#fancy cloth lamp

[george-does-a-thing]

[glowettee]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆Studying Doesn’t Have to Be Ugly: How to Romanticize the Process⋆⭒˚｡⋆

✨ Studying can be beautiful, babe. It’s not just about the textbooks, deadlines, and stress—it’s about creating a vibe that makes showing up feel magical. Let’s transform the grind into a glow.

Here’s how to start:

Create a Soft Space Your study space should be an invitation, not a punishment. Fairy lights, pastel decor, a candle that smells like vanilla and lavender—make it a vibe. Even if your desk is tiny or you’re studying in a corner, a cozy blanket and cute stationery can transform the energy.

Treat Yourself Like an Academic Queen Bring a latte, herbal tea, or even sparkling water to your study session. Put on your comfiest, chicest clothes (hello, oversized sweater + headband combo). You’re the main character in this story—live it!

Mood-Boosting Playlists Switch up the silence for something that helps you focus and feel good. Try lofi beats, classical piano, or even soft instrumental covers of your favorite songs. Bonus: Create an aesthetic playlist name like “Soft Girl Study Vibes 🌸.”

Romanticize the Rituals Highlighting your notes, flipping through pages, even just sharpening a pencil—see it all as part of a little movie montage. Add aesthetic sticky notes and a dash of glitter to your notes.

Set the Scene Clean your desk before studying. Imagine you’re preparing for a fancy guest (spoiler: it’s you). Add a few personal touches—a framed photo, fresh flowers, or a cute lamp.

Remember: The goal is to love the process, not just the result. ✨ When you create a dreamy environment for yourself, the work becomes a little lighter, and you’ll find it easier to stay consistent.

💌 What’s your fave way to romanticize studying? Reblog and share your tips below, queen! Let’s glow together. 🌟

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[naturesapphic]

Hi! Would you be able to do a CEO!older!Natasha romanoff x Younger!fem!reader fic where reader is part of a startup advertising company while nat is the feared CEO of a well known advertising company and both met in a fancy wine bar only find out they’re business rivals in the advertising industry. Fluffy and some steamy smut please

Business rivals

CEO!older!natasha romanoff x young!fem!reader

Warnings: strict nat, fluff, smut

Word count: 1,002 :)

Walking into the bar, you were hit with the smell of alcohol and some type of fancy perfume. You walked up to the bar and sat down and ordered a strawberry martini. Feeling a presence behind you, you looked behind you to see a beautiful red head in a black suit and tie. “May I seat here?” She asks in a strict but kind voice. You gave her a smile and nodded your head. The red head smiled back and sat down next to you. “What are you having sweetheart?” The red head asked and you chuckled at the pet name she gave you. “A strawberry martini.” You replied and she shook her head. “Why don’t I buy you something stronger hm?” She suggested and you shook your head.

“No thank you. I need to stay as sober as I can. I have to go to work tomorrow.” You explained to her and she nodded in understanding. "I have work too but ! can just call out if I really need to." She smirked as she called over the bartender and ordered a bottle of vodka. Your eyes widen in surprise at her choice of alcohol and she just gave you a playful smirk and wink. The two of you talked for hours at the bar and learned so much about each other but what she was about to say now was something you weren’t expecting her to say. “I’m actually the CEO of stark advertising.” She confessed and you felt your whole face turn pale at her words. The redhead noticed how your whole demeanor change and she asked what was wrong.

“You work for stark advertising. You are Natalia Romanov, You are my rival!” You exclaimed with wide eyes and Natasha’s eyes widen themselves. “Shit…” she muttered under her breath while you sat there dumbfounded. “You are feared and an asshole..but getting to know you…the real you…I don’t see it…” you confessed to her and she looked into your eyes with a mix of mischievousness and softness in them. She got a little bit closer to you and carefully took one of your hands in hers, making you look up at her. “I really like you y/n. If you could just give me a chance…we can even go back to my place tonight if you want.” She suggested and you nodded, deciding to give her a chance.

~ at the house ~

You didn’t know how you were half naked on her bed with her on top of you but that’s what’s happening. Lips are connected and moving as you swiftly take off Natasha’s clothes. She was completely bare, her pale skin gleaming in the lamp light that was shining on the bedside table near the bed. Her short red hair that sits on her shoulders frames her face. You were in awe of her and she interrupted your admiration but leaning down and kissing your neck sloppily. You were a complete mess and she was barely doing anything to you. Natasha while kissing your neck and leaving hickies behind, was busy taking the rest of your clothes off, leaving you fully naked as well. Her bare body pressed up against your had you spiraling and not thinking straight.

Her gentle but yet firm touches and the smell of her hair, the softness of her body, the noises that come out of her mouth when you hit a certain spot, had both of you in a frenzy. Natasha was satisfied with your neck and started leaving kisses down to your breast. Your nipples harden by the coldness that filled the room and she took one of your pink buds between her lips, suckling softly. You bit your lip at the sensation and gently raised your hand to run your fingers through her red locks making her eyes snap up at you. She sucked on both of your nipples before kissing down to your stomach to your pelvis. She kisses all over your thighs until she got to your dripping cunt. Using her index and middle finger, she spread opened your lips, revealing your wetness and your throbbing hole.

Natasha smirked and licked her lips. “Is this all for me doll?” She said huskily that made your pussy clench. “Y-yes nat…all for you..” you whimper out, causing her to chuckle. She leaned down and attached her lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You let out a strangled breath and you shut your eyes tightly, feeling the pleasure all through your body, like a shock. She lapped at your pussy then went back to sucking on your clit, mixing the two together to get you to orgasm quickly. Which happened because not even a few minutes later you felt the tightness in your stomach and you let go. You came all in her mouth and Natasha greedily lapped it all up, not leaving a drop behind. You panted in the middle of the bed, recovering from the orgasm that nat just gave you.

“Fuck nat…” you breath out and Natasha let out a chuckle as she goes up and lays beside you, pulling your sweaty body to hers. “That was amazing.” You tell her as you roll over to face her, her arms still wrapped around your body. “I’m glad it was…” she said softly as she moves some of your sweaty strands of hair away from your face, causing your face to heat up. The two of you laid there admiring each other until y’all fell asleep in each others arms.

A/n: I haven’t been very good with endings but thank you @unlady-like-12-25-36 for the request! I hope you enjoyed it and that everyone else did too! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all :) special thing coming up this week ;)

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Gilded Cage

The penthouse you're in is beautiful, the closet filled with the finest clothes, the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods, the only problem is; you never asked for this. The Arkham Knight doesn't seem to care. Part One of this series. CW: kidnapping ~1.5k words

You don't know who the Arkham Knight is. You don't know why he kidnapped you from your apartment and locked you away in some penthouse far too fancy for someone with no sway in Gotham.

None of it makes sense. You wouldn't even know his name if you didn't overhear the men dropping off food and necessitates for you talk about him.

They never get too close to you, which eases some of the panic in your throat, but they've only ever spoken to you once. One of the men had dropped a notepad on the marble counter and grumbled something about writing down whatever you need before leaving you to yourself. Being so alone in a gilded cage almost makes you wish they'd say more.

It's not like you haven't tried escaping, but you're on the top floor of some building you only recognized as being in the Diamond District because you can see the glowing symbol of Wayne Tower in the distance. The one time you did try to break down the door, you found out there are in fact guards stationed outside your prison.

You've never been hurt. Never gone hungry or cold. There's a television and more books than you'll ever have time to read. (You try to ignore how many of them are your favorites. It has to be a coincidence.) The kitchen is always stocked and the apartment is always cleaned. (You haven't quite figured out when that happens.) Anything you've ever asked for is delivered and sitting on the glass table when you wake up.

You had only asked for diamonds and pearls once. Curiosity and frustration had gotten the better of you, and when sets of shiny jewels greeted you in the morning, you wanted to faint.

They sit stuffed in a drawer now, and your hands shake when you check to see if they're still there. They sit alongside a note written in messy script, the one asking if you'd prefer a dress or a suit to match the choker made of sapphires. Or perhaps something to match the headpiece encrusted with rubies?

You're starting to think being alone for so long is making you crazy. You wake up sometimes at night, shifting against the soft sheets and feathered pillows and your heart neatly stops at the glowing eyes in the doorway.

Fear stops your voice from coming out and by the time you've worked up the courage to hit the lamp, whatever it was is gone. He's gone. The first time, you told yourself it was a nightmare. The second, a trick of the light. But the third, when you woke to the rough texture of gloves tracing the curve of your jaw, that was real.

You had frozen. Eyes shut tight and heart racing. The touch was gentle, almost non-existent, and if the near silent, rhythmic breathing hadn't reached your ears, you would have believed it to be a dream.

You don't know how long you stayed like that, your kidnappers' fingers brushing your face while you pretended to sleep. The feeling disappears eventually, and you fall back asleep. You lie to yourself when morning comes, that it was something you imagined.

You've lost count of the days, the weeks, it's been like this. You're not even sure what to call the situation. You're not a pet. You're not a hostage. A prisoner? Yes. But prisoners are never treated so lavishly without a reason.

Curiosity gets the better of you. How could it not when 'why' always haunts your thoughts? You pretend to be asleep. Night after night, you wait for him to come again. But it's like he knows. He's aware that you're waiting.

So, you write on the pristine notepad. You ask to be let go.

There's nothing on the glass table when you wake up, but the notepad is empty of words. The day seems to pass in a haze.

By the time night comes again, you're livid. You'd throw things at the glass enclosing the balcony if it wasn't something you tried already.

You stalk your way out of the bedroom, intent on making coffee and staying up until you can finally face the person who's trapped you here.

Your bravado disappears at the sight of the figure standing in the middle of the room.

The glowing lights of the city illuminates his silhouette. The military style gear, the eerily familiar glowing eyes, the guns holstered at his thighs. All your words and curses and questions stick to your tongue.

"You can't go home," a modulated voice tells you.

"Why?" You breathe out, eyes darting over his figure. You're not scared. You can't explain it, but as frightening as he should be, as terrifying as this situation should be, he doesn't feel unsafe.

He doesn't answer, doesn't move. If it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders, you'd think he wasn't human. Silence falls for a longer than you know what to do with, "This your home," he says, voice even and factual.

"This isn't a home," your protest, anger flaring, "this is a prison cell!"

He steps towards you, menacing and threatening as he hisses, "This is nothing like a cell. You know nothing. You're safe here. Provided for. I've given you everything you could need."

"I'm alone here!" You snap out, despite your better judgment.

"I'll get you a pet," he says firmly.

"I don't have anyone to talk to," You respond harshly.

"I'll send someone to keep you company," he responds easily, like placating a child. But you don't miss his hands clench and unclench.

"I want to go outside," You answer, and you hate how your voice pitches into a whine, a plea, "I want fresh air."

He pauses, studying you, "I'll figure something out."

"Why are you doing this?" You finally ask, tears pricking your eyes. You don't want to cry, don't want to show him any weakness, but you're so tired and he's the first person you've talked to in ages. "I'm not anyone special. You don't gain anything by keeping me here. Please. Please, I wanna go home."

He tenses, then steps towards you steadily. You flinch when he stops just in front of you, turning and ducking your head. He takes your chin in his hand and guides your face back up, carefully wiping the tears that drip down your cheeks.

"You are special. More than you could know," he says quietly, like it's a secret. He says your name softly, like it's important, "You're going to stay here."

"I don't want to," You choke out between tears. He just doesn't acknowledge it, just keeps soaking up your cries with the pads of his glove.

You stay like that until your tears dry up and your body feels shaky. He exhales softly and tilts his head down, resting his helmet against your forehead. You would be eye to eye, you realize, if not for the mask.

"You're going to stay here," he repeats gently.

"Why?" You ask, voice weak.

He pulls back, his hand hesitating against your face before reaching for his helmet. He removes it with a practiced motion, and your whole world freezes.

Your breath catches in your lungs and your heart screams JasonJasonJason.

He doesn't try to explain. You don't have the words to ask. "You're going to stay here," he tells you again, voice low and careful.

"But-" You start, eyes darting over his face, the 'J' branded into his cheek.

He says your name, demanding and firm, "You're staying."

You swallow the rest of your words, and he nods in approval, "I'll get you what you asked for, okay?"

The helmet is back on before you even finished your bewildered nod, gaze locked on him. "Good," he murmurs, voice unrecognizable behind the mask. He's moving away, walking towards the door, leaving you.

You grab his arm, panicked, "Wait–"

He pulls your hand from his arm gently, "I'll come back."

"You haven't explained anything–" You try again, desperate and confused.

"You don't need to understand anything. You just need to stay here, tell me what you want, and let me take care of everything else, alright?" The Arkham Knight– Jason tells you.

You nod weakly, letting your hand drop back to your side.

"Good. Get some sleep," his voice sounds empty through the modulator.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" You ask, voice breaking.

He wavers by the door, "I come back everyday," he admits eventually and sees himself out the door of your prison.

You all but stumble to the plush couch and collapse as the door locks behind him. Jason is alive. Jason kidnapped you. Jason's held you in this luxury apartment for weeks. Jason left you jewels worth more than your entire savings account. Jason is alive. Jason visits you every night. Jason is alive.

Jason is alive. But you're still trapped. Still stuck in a cage with no explanation why and no matter how pretty it is, he's still locked you in here. But it's Jason. Jason wouldn't hurt you. He has to have a good reason.

The thought haunts you until you drift off, drawn to sleep by the soft velvet against your skin. You miss it, when the door cracks open again, and a down blanket is drawn over your body. You don't even twitch, when scarred hands start to trace a familiar path over your face.

Part Two

[pseudowho]

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento #2, Indentured Servitude

Sighing, and draping the dishcloth over the sink, Kento walked to the living room. He was fully prepared. He couldn't wait to settle down for the evening. There was nothing he could possibly have left to do.

You were sat on the sofa, curled up, scrolling on your phone. Kento approached slowly, cautionary, waiting. His eyes narrowed at you as he got closer, and closer, hovering by his seat. You did not look up. You didn't make a sound.

Achingly slowly, and with abject suspicion, Kento lowered himself to sit on the sofa beside you. Until--

"Kento, could you just get me--"

"A glass of water? Yes. It's right there on the coffee table, beside a fresh cup of tea. A fresh cup of coffee, too, on the chance that you just fancy a coffee actually. Your hot water bottle is here, nice and warm. I cleaned the blanket today, it's behind your head. There are snacks beside you, some sweet, some salty, some chewy, some crunchy. I've got your book that you probably won't read, but just in case, it's here. Here's the TV remote, and the other TV remote, and the remote for the lamp. Your phone charger is plugged in, and the cable is tucked in the cushion beside you. The laundry is done, the dishes are cleaned, our clothes are ironed for tomorrow, and I've ordered those storage boxes you wanted."

You looked up at Kento mulishly, nodding slowly, finger still hovering over your phone. You smiled sweetly. Kento's eyes narrowed further, a challenging smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Is there anything else you need, darling?" You batted your eyelashes up at him.

"...no, don't think so."

Kento sighed again, and moved to sit down.

"Oh, actually! Some socks, please. My feet are freezing."

You heard Kento grumble all the way to the dresser.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 3: The Wheels of Fate Started to Turn

Previous | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

You feel sick when you wake. Muscles weak and body shaky. It takes more effort than you would like to peel your eyes open. You haven’t sat under a UV lamp in a while and it’s starting to show. The cocoon of sheets feels so good you don’t want to get up, to peel yourself away from them.

You realize Johnny and Kyle are gone as you sit up, all alone in the center of the massive bed. The room feels darker without them, somehow. Emptier. You roll over to climb off the bed, interrupted by the sound of paper crinkling under you. You feel around the mattress only to find a thick envelope with ‘Fancy’ neatly written across the front. As you open it, your breath catches in your throat at the contents. It’s nearly double what they said they’d pay. More than you could have ever hoped for. It makes your hands shake to hold that much money all at once. Once the shock wears off, a folded up piece of paper catches your eye.

Hey lovie,

Sorry to take off without saying goodbye. Had some business to attend to. Figured we should let you sleep. Hope you won’t be too mad ;)

We left a little extra for spending the night. Nothing like cuddling up next to a soft, warm lady.

Let’s do it again soon.

Kyle + Johnny

The handwriting changes to a messy scrawl that you have to squint to make out.

P.S. You look bonnie in my shirt. Gonnae be thinking about that all day. Feel free to take it with you.

P.S.S. I want it back unwashed.

You can’t help but snicker to yourself. Damn dirty dog.

You have no reason to deny him, though. So you slip the t-shirt on over your dress as you get ready to leave. The dress feels far too constrictive for the early morning. This is why you don’t do nights - walking out looking like a mess in the itchy day old clothes. You give up looking for your panties which seem to have evaporated, not too keen on putting them back on anyway.

Before you can tip-toe your way out to the front door, you find yourself pausing. The kitchen light is on, illuminating a figure working over the stove. Curiosity gets the better of you and you circle around the counter to see John sorting ingredients in nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. Strong, nicely hairy chest on full display.

And they call you and slut.

“Good morning.” He flashes you a bright smile. Of course he noticed you. He probably smelled you before he even heard you leave the bedroom.

“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude.” You mumble awkwardly.

“No, no. I was hoping you’d stop f’me. My boys treat you alright?” He eyes your shirt.

Being asked that a second time throws you off. Why the hell do they care so much? “They did.”

“Good. Good.” He smiles warmly. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

You scoff. “You? No offense but I’d rather take my chances with the nearest dumpster.”

“Contrary to popular belief, some of us remember how to cook.”

You glance at the half-dozen cart of eggs and perfectly fresh vegetables neatly arranged across the counter. “And you just happened to have human food on hand?”

He pauses. “…I may have had some delivered.”

John turns back to the stove, muttering something under his breath about ‘too smart for her own damn good.’

You pad over beside him to look down at the food, staring at the spread. You point at some red thing you don’t recognize. “What is that?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The tomato?”

“Tomatoes are purple.” You poke it. “And more squishy.”

You meet his eye and for a brief moment, you think you see pity. Something sad swirling in the blue of his irises. He schools his face back to neutral before you can be sure you saw anything at all.

“Well, hopefully you trust an old codger like me to make you a half-decent omelette.”

You snort, leaning back on the kitchen island. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

You both lapse into silence. He does seem to know what he’s doing - carefully chopping the vegetables and carefully folding the omelette in the pan. Maybe he had a human wife at some point or something. Most likely. That’s not uncommon, especially back in the 21st century. Practically a trend. You tilt your head as you watch him move, brow furrowed. He’s so weird.

What could you have said to them to make them treat you like this? You’re almost afraid to know - that block of time so buried in the recesses of your mind there’s no hope of ever recovering it. That doesn’t mean you haven’t tried since that day, but you know we’ll enough that it never works. You don’t have a single guess as to what it could have been.

Maybe you didn’t say anything. Maybe they’re just weirdly tunnel visioned. Vamps do that often enough - hone in on a target of affection. For any reason from looking like a dead loved one or they just have an enticing scent. Except they’re not usually this… nice. Normally they’d just drain the object of their affection and be done with it. Not ask them to sleep over for the night and cook them breakfast in the morning.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a plate is set in front of you. It looks… perfect. At least you assume that’s what a good omelette looks like. Nicely golden. It looks alien. Food from another world - another time. You glance up at John as he watches you expectantly. It won’t hurt to entertain him, you suppose. Even if it does end up being shit. You cut a small bite, tentatively bringing it to you your lips. You brace for something awful.

Except it’s incredible. Perfectly cooked and seasoned. You can’t help but let out a content little hum before practically scarfing it down. You haven’t had food like this in… ever, actually. Neither this fresh or well made.

“So you like it?” John smiles.

You nod happily with a mouth full of food before remembering where you are. Steeling yourself and slowing down, returning to the more reserved persona. “It’s good.”

John huffs out a laugh, turning his back to you to clean up. “I’ll drive you home when you’re finished.”

You pause mid bite. “Oh, no, I can take the train-“

“Do you really want t’walk all the way to the depot in those heels?” John cocks an brow, blue eyes dragging from your face, over your body and down your legs. There’s a slow burning intensity in the movement that sends a shiver down your spine.

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do. The last thing you need is to owe a vampire for anything. They’ll take your debts to the grave. It happened with your neighbor once - you learned early on to be wary of any offer made by one of them. Never make a deal with one of the devils.

“You won’t be indebted for it.” John chuckles as if he can read your damn mind. Maybe he can.

You chew your lip. It’s at least an hour walk to the metro station from here. You don’t want him to see where you live, though. It will ruin the illusion. Images flash through your mind of the craggily walls of your apartment building. The syringes that line the sidewalk. There’s that massive blood stain on the front steps they still haven’t cleaned up after five years.

But then you meet his eyes. They’re so sincere. So bright. Whatever that tug is in your chest that keeps giving into them pulls again. It’s unraveling you, making you insane. Surely that’s it, you’re finally going insane.

“Okay.” It comes out weaker than you’d like.

John grins a though you gave him the greatest gift in history. It makes your face hot - leaves you shifting awkwardly. You’re not used to that much emotion carved into their marble features. This coven is too expressive. It’s putting you on edge, leaving you with your guard up. Against what, though? What’s the point? Shouldn’t you be happy and play into their more excitable nature?

It’s too unfamiliar. Too otherworldly to see human emotion on their god like features.

A cool finger hooks under your chin, lifting your face to meet John’s gaze. “You think too much.”

You scoff and tear your face away from his hand. Thinking keeps you alive. The girls that don’t think don’t survive past their teens. You have to be smart to stay alive here. To even have a hope of keeping up with creatures who contain centuries of knowledge and experience. Who are so far ahead in the race the best you can do is limp along in the dust.

A valet pulls the car around. John changed into jeans and half zip sweater. You would die before admitting to the small bit of disappointment at him donning a shirt. You expect the black SUV from the night before to pull up. Instead, you’re met with a basic sedan. It’s still nice - obviously new. The seats are a soft, well cared for leather.

“So is this what you do? Invite prostitutes over for omlettes and tea and then drive them home?” You blurt as John starts the car. That itch to dissect their thought processes continues to plague the back of your mind.

“Tea?” He repeats, a brow raised.

“Simon made me tea last night.”

John laughs. “Kyle really did fuck your throat raw, then?”

You whirl on him, eyes wide.

“Don’t act so surprised. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Said you took it beautifully.” John sighs. “Bit jealous I didn’t get to watch the show. A good cigar and whiskey in hand? The perfect night, I think. Might have to recreate it…”

That last bit sounds more for him than for you.

You shouldn’t blush. You’ve been doing this long enough that there’s no reason to blush anymore. You have no right to be flustered over something as simple as sex. It’s the way he says it, you think. The way desire drips from every syllable as though he’s never said anything more true in his immortal life.

You just hide behind a huff and look out the window. “You’re all very weird, you know that?”

“Are we, now?” John rests his elbow on the door and his head on his hand. He weaves through the chaotic city roads expertly.

“You’re too…” You wrinkle your nose, pausing. The word gets lost on your tongue.

“Human?”

“If you say so.”

John chuckles. “You’re just as weird, you know that?”

“I am not weird!” You snap indignantly.

“If you say so.”

You have to do a double take when he pulls up to your apartment. Is it really that fast by car? What was that, ten minutes? The train is a nearly twenty minute ride with two fifteen minute walks. The walk is nearly three hours - two if you take the back way.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, voice dropping to a low drawl. You shake your head to clear it, pulling your respirator out of your coat.

“Don’t you need a-“ You stop when you meet John’s deadpan expression. “Oh, right.”

“Appreciate the concern, love.” He chuckles. It’s a surprisingly warm sound.

You reach for the door, respirator in hand and at the ready. You pause when John lays a hand lightly on your shoulder. Turning back, your eyes meeting his. There’s that storm again. The one he looked at you with before. Something roiling underneath the surface.

“Fancy?”

“Yes?”

“Before you go.” John leans forward. “C’mere.”

You assume he wants a kiss. It wouldn’t surprise you - a little thank you for the ride. Frankly, you should have thought of it first. Instead, he ducks his head to the side at the last moment. His hand tangles gently but firmly in your hair to pull your head to the side, leaving your neck craned and exposed. You freeze. Fear takes over - your heart rate immediately spiking. Your hands fist his coat, pushing as hard as you can against the unmoving mountain that is his body.

“John-“ Your voice cracks. “Please don’t-“

“Need t’ make sure you’re safe…” He mumbles.

A fang catches your skin. You freeze.

It drags across your neck, down the arch of your artery. You suck in a hear breath, the skin not quite breaking under the touch. Before you can speak or begin pushing again or even try to get out of the car, he bites down. A yelp escapes you as his teeth slowly sink in - only through the top most layer of skin. Not enough to puncture the artery or even for his other teeth to bite into your skin.

Your whole body shakes. “What’re you-“

John shushes you as he pulls away, eyes locked on the cut he made on your neck. You can feel the wet blood beginning to drip down your neck. His hand stays in your hair, holding you in place. The blue of his irises seems somehow brighter, pupils so narrowed they don’t look to be more than pinpricks. After a few beats he seems satisfied, letting your hair go and sitting back in his seat.

“Just a precaution, love.”The vampire looks you over, eyes suddenly painfully soft again. “Take care of yourself.”

Your eyes flick between his. A cold, rushing fear pumps through your veins. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you finally come to your senses, taking the chance to dash out of the car and toward your apartment. Fight or flight pushing away any ability to ask what the fuck that was. By the time you turn around to check behind you, John is far down the street.

You rush to your bathroom mirror, tossing your respirator to the ground as soon as you’re in your front door. It’s not deep. He didn’t even lick up after himself - a thin trail of blood pooling around your clavicle before continuing down. It wasn’t about drinking. You hiss as your fingers lightly test the tender skin.

What the fuck?

He’s a vampire. At the end of the day that’s all he is. No facial expressions or ability to cook will undo that he’s a different creature entirely. Was that what this is about? Reminding you what they are? The power they have? You wouldn’t put it past one of them, the sick fucks. What kind of fool were you to think they’re at all different.

After a shower and finally changing into some pajamas (minus a certain vampire’s tshirt that he will not be getting back) you go to grab your lamp. It doesn’t take long to set up the UV light, just dragging it out of storage and setting up the shade above it so that the rays concentrate downward onto your skin. You slowly sink to the ground. Exhaustion clings to your bones. They feel brittle and heavy simultaneously.

You sigh, curling up under the warm light like a cat. You have to be smart about how long you stay under it - the damn thing runs up the electricity bill like nothing else. Plus, too long under it can cause serious skin damage. As much as you’d rather go without, you’ve seen what happens to those that do.

You half heartedly re-count out the envelope of money, still feeling overwhelmed at the sheer amount of it. At the whole situation at hand. You realize quickly enough that despite having the money to do almost anything you don’t actually… know what to do. Despite the plan being to save up and get out of the slums you never really planned for what to do once you were out of the slums.

The realization that you never truly believed you could do it, even unconsciously, is a little heartbreaking.

Do you keep working at the club? Hope that these clients like you enough to keep up with your new lifestyle? Pray that they enjoy fucking you for long enough to save up? Do you even want to see them after what John just did? Do you look for another job? There isn’t much you can get when the whole of your resume is stamped with WHORE in bright red letters.

With a low groan you slump back on the floor and throw your arm over your eyes. Everything is so fucked. You’re lost in it and it’s all fucked.

Normally, you would avoid information about the people that come in and out of your club. They’re looking for discretion, after all. A place to hide away from the dealings of life. A fantasy. If you were smart, you’d stick with that habit. Especially when it comes to the ones that literally compel you to forget their business.

John just lost the right to any discretion after that stunt in the car.

You open up your shitty laptop that requires five hail mary’s to start. It greets you with the top headlines of the day, all just as enjoyable as you’d expect.

UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE FOUND IN FOUR MORE JANE DOES

NEW DRUG CYTH TAKING THE UNDERGROUND MARKETS BY STORM

CORPSE FOUND WITH BLOOD LEAKING FROM PORES

You close them out, for your own sanity, and type John’s name into the search bar. A few things come up - some company called One-Four-One with the most nothing description about what kind of company they are. They “develop products and services” - aka they’re a shell for shady bullshit. They’re listed as the benefactor for some lower city charities and given responsibility for several mergers and buy-outs in the upper city. All the things you’d expect from a corporation.

It’s too clean, though. You’ve been living in the underbelly long enough to know what a front looks like. Not that you’re surprised. Every vampire corporation is a cover for a million other little inner workings you will never be privy to.

The only pictures of John are a few from press reports. His imposing figure standing behind some ugly podium with a logo hastily plastered across the front. He has a commanding air about him behind all those microphones - like a preacher or a politician. Fitting.

Johnny and Kyle have a far more risqué library. Images with models and other beautiful women. The kinds of things you’d expect from young, playboy vampires stretching over the past century at least, according to the archive dates. The boys aren’t the focus of the images - it’s all paparazzi for the women - but they’re in them nonetheless. How the hell did Johnny manage to squeeze into a pair of leather pants like that?

Simon doesn’t even seem to exist. A total ghost. No matter how deep you go you can’t find a trace of him. You manage to get all the way back to the 1990s in the archive and still come up with jack shit.

You’re left with more questions than answers and a distinct understanding that you shouldn’t ask any of them. You knew that already, though, and you have no plans to let John Price close enough to speak to you anytime soon.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep up until you wake, alarm blaring in your ear that it’s time to get up and go to work. It never ends. You still feel so fucking tired, body heavy and eyes stinging. A haze settles over your mind as you fall into your constant routine. Makeup, hair, dress, respirator on, walk, train, respirator off, walk.

Your locker in the back room fights you, forcing you to practically break it open. Just another thing to leave you feeling angry and useless.

“I heard they got Red.” The girl beside you whispers. She’s mousy, new. A gossiper. She even tried to talk to you, at least before she found out that you apparently steal clients.

The girl she’s speaking to side eyes her. “What do you mean got ‘er?”

“With that new drug - Cyth or whatever.”

“Cyth isn’t real. It’s just people making up shit to cover up what the vamps are doing. As if we don’t already know.”

“But what about-“ You don’t hear the rest of what she says, her voice drowning out as you leave the back room.

Time seems to crawl by at the club without the men. You hate it. Not just the slowness of the day but the fact that they’ve had that effect on you. That these creatures you barley know have invaded your thoughts. Wormed themselves into the nooks and crannies of your psyche. Marked you - however temporarily that may be.

The patrons avoid your eyes. You serve their drinks, and where they would normally make a salacious remark or grab onto you they just offer a huffy thanks and ignore you. The tips are garbage, even the other serving girls notice and begin to basically steal your tables. It has to be the bite.

Why, though? Plenty of serving girls have fresh bite marks and they aren’t getting reactions like that. You can count four on the main floor right now.

At least once the day is over, it’s over. You can go home and hide away. Be angry in peace. Maybe make a plan for what to do. Maybe you can leave the city you and your friends talked about as teens. Except they’re all dead now and you’re pretty sure there isn’t anything outside of the dome anymore. At least not anything you could get to.

The other girls don’t walk with you to the metro anymore. The streets are never truly empty in the main city. There’s no real day or night. It’s only the places humans inhabit that become abandoned during the “night.” As you exit the lower city station, the streets empty out. It’s just you, footsteps echoing off buildings. The smog in the air only makes it darker - even harder to navigate.

Until a second pair of footsteps appears, fast and growing louder by the second. Before you can even begin to run or check behind you a force slams into you, sending you tumbling down onto harsh concrete and into an alley.

You’re cornered. There’s nowhere to go. Before you can grapple for your garlic spray the vampire has your wrists in his hand, pulling you up to dangle in front of him. The backs of your hands and arms scrape against the rough brick of the building he’s pinned you too. It hurts, cutting deep into your skin under the pressure of his strength.

The thing hisses, ripping off the neck guard attached to your respirator. The whole thing goes clattering to the ground. You choke on the poison air, lungs immediately rejecting it.

You tip your eyes to the obstructed sky. Of course it would end this way. It’s the end for you all, isn’t it? Just another body in an alley. Another free apartment for people to fight over. Another headline for people to frown at on the train. You wonder if they would use your name or just leave you as another Jane Doe.

What do the real stars look like, anyway?

He takes a long inhale and freezes in place. You can barely make out wide, frenzied eyes. A hood blocks any of his other features. His breath hastens, chest heaving against yours. What the hell is he waiting for?

Suddenly he reels backward, hissing and spitting. Muttering words you don’t understand. It drops you so suddenly that you collapse to the ground. Unable to gain any footing, still coughing and choking.

“What-“ You’re not even sure why you want to ask it a question. Before you can at all the thing runs away down the alley. Your hand travels up to your neck.

The bite.

A coughing fit sends you doubling over and you blearing grope around the ground for your respirator. At least it didn’t get smashed, you sigh in relief - clipping it back around your face and neck.

Your hands shake and you turn, staring up at that massive skyscraper hanging above the city. It’s taunting you. You feel like you can almost see John staring down at you, toying with you. An anger flares in your body so hot you almost feel as thought you’ve caught fire. He wants to fuck with you? To make you feel weak? To try to lay some sort of claim?

Fine. You can play ball.

A/N: John “you don’t need to know what’s going on, love, just do what I say” Price and Miss “don’t fuck with my independence” Fancy

I don’t love this chapter but I gotta get plot moving and grooving.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

I just read your domestic Theo headcannon and it’s sooooo cute 🥰 like kick your feet and scream into your pillow cute. I was hoping you’d have one for Matthew but I’m gonna keep an eye out for when your requests open and hit up your inbox again. Thank you for sharing your amazing writing with us!! 💕💕

I actually don't have any headcanons for this week, so, I'll this one.

Unlike Theo, he's a horrible cook. He really tries learning. Eventually, he can do easy meals just fine. Like pretty much anything in a box with little prep. I'm sorry, he's just not good at it.

BUT, he definitely will sit in the kitchen while you cook and will try helping. Like help cut up vegetables or stir or something easy.

Surprisingly, I think he would be really good at little home projects. Like maybe he'll build you a little spice rack, or he'll patch any holes in the walls, small things like that. But like plumbing, electrical, HVAC stuff, he can't do it, he's calling someone.

Like I said in Theo's one, he's one of the ones who will let you decorate the house. He wants to be surrounded by you when he's home. You're his comfort and seeing those little decorative pillows on the couch, or the ugly lamp you picked out makes him so happy since it's you.

Only thing he wants is big family photos on the walls. He wants them every year. Especially if/when you have kids. He'll literally have a whole wall with your family pics, your wedding pics, baby pics of your kids, ultrasounds. He likes it because even when you aren't home, he can see you and the kids when he is.

Has a home gym so he can workout with you, or let you mess around with him. Like sitting on his back while he does pushups, or having you hold his legs while he does sit ups and gives you a kiss each sit he comes up.

Very much loves dates with you. He really couldn't care less if it's just at home in comfy clothes, or dressing up and going somewhere fancy. He just wants to be with you.

Loves play fighting with you. Like full on throwing or tackling you on the bed or couch or even the floor and watching you struggle to get free from his grasp and tickles. This does move over to the kids if/when you have them, though obviously much gentler.

Literally can't sleep without you. He has to be touching you. Doesn't matter how. Doesn't matter if it's just him holding onto your arm or having you warm your cold feet on him. He likes the reassurance that you're there and will make sure you two always sleep together, even if you're fighting.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[acelvrr]

Op characters + their rooms (modern au)

pt.1 ft. Ace, zoro, law

Ace

- whoooow it stank

- LED lights are always on blue cuz my mans always in his feels.

Only turns them red when he’s tryna get the mood on if u know what I mean 😽

- For your own mental health don’t look under his bed or else you’ll get flashbacks to the Tacos you had last Tuesday

- only cleans his room when you are coming over (his definition of cleaning is throwing everything under his bed)

- has his tv opposite his bed so you guys can cuddle and lie in bed whilst watching a movie

Netflix and chill 😼

Zoro

-Room smells like body spray mixed with a hint of lavender because of his lavender sleep mist

-Basic ass room

Argues that he doesn’t need to decorate it because all he does is sleep and workout in there

- everything is either black or grey

- has more dumbbells in his room than clothes

- Buys a super expensive mattress that ‘helps with back problems’. (he got scammed by Nami)

-then shortly after got scammed again, this time into buying overpriced pillows.

Would’ve only bought one if he wasn’t with you

- Has a framed picture of you on his side table and he gets flustered everytime he looks at it 🤭

Law

- clean freak and also very freaky

- changes his sheets everytime someone comes over

- practically lives at his desk, he’s so studious 🤭

- his desk can get veryyyy clattered and messy

- has a towering bookshelf full of textbooks and other books he hasn’t read yet

- whilst he’s studying he always has candles lit , humidifier on and white noise playing in the background

-He rarely ever switches his ‘big light’ on, always used warm toned lamps and is big on using natural light.

-has a few posters up but nothing too fancy

- you are the only person he actually likes having over

-also has a mirror opposite his bed because he’s freakyy

but moves it before going to sleep cuz he claims he doesn’t want any paranormal activity to take place

(he’s just a nerd that spends wayy to much time on Reddit reading about niche topics)

[lacyscabinet]

im so sick of the pure smut too,,, you should do a fall vibe fic where theyre both cold and trying to warm each other up or something

A/N: I feel you anon, I mean, I'm okay with smut I just don't read it because of personal preference😭😭 BUT IT'S LITERALLY ALL I SEE UNDER THE ELLIE TAG. Anyway, I love this request THANK YOUUU<333 also I'm veeeeeery new to the tlou fandom on tumblr so let me know if ya'll like my writing and PLEASE let me know how I can improve, feedback even if negative is always appreciated over here!!! I wish all of you an amazing day/evening/whatever time it is in the timezone you're in!!!🤍🤍🤍

Absolutely not proofread!!!

NAVIGATION

PICTURES TAKEN FROM PINTEREST!!! CREDITS TO THE OWNERS!!!

Free radiator

The wind howled outside as you made your way to Ellie’s garage, the icy air biting the skin of your cheeks. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, shivering as you pushed open the heavy door. Inside, the dim light from the lamp Joel had put in the room illuminated a bunch of scattered items and clothes thrown on the floor. Let's just say that Ellie wasn't exactly the best at keeping her room tidy.

“Hey, you made it!” Ellie’s voice broke through the silence, warm and inviting, bold contrast to the chill that still reigned in the garage.

She was sitting on her old couch with a steaming mug in her hands. Her hair was tousled, and her cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold.

“Barely!" You chuckled, rubbing your hands together for warmth "It’s freezing out there, my fingers were about to fall off.”

Ellie laughed “Come here, I’ve got hot tea. It’ll warm you up.” She patted the space next to her, and you felt a rush of happiness as you moved closer.

You took the mug from her, savoring the rich . As you sipped, the warmth spread through you, melting away the cold as you quietly thanked her with a kiss on the cheek.

After finishing your drink, you looked around the garage, and a shiver ran through your body. “What should we do to warm this place up?"

“Blankets!” she declared, getting up from her seat. She rummaged through a nearby drawer, finally pulling out a colorful quilt that looked like it had seen better days.

You couldn’t help but laugh when she wrapped the fabric around you two, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth. “This is much better,” you said, snuggling closer to her side.

Ellie grinned, her eyes shining. “See? Who needs a fancy heater when you’ve got blankets..." she paused for a second and then looked up at you "...and me?”

“True, you're my personal radiator ” you teased, leaning your head against her shoulder.

You just relaxed in her warmth, closing your eyes and smiling when Ellie's hand reached behind you to rub your back.

But at one point, Ellie reached into her pocket "I was almost forgetting" she said while revealing a small silver bracelet "I saw this on patrol, it made me think of you” she said, her cheeks a shade of pink.

Your heart fluttered as you took the bracelet, adorned with a couple of little plant shaped charms “Ellie, this is beautiful!” you exclaimed, slipping it onto your wrist.

Suddenly, she stiffed a laugh.

"What?" You asked confused

"The plants charms remind of when we climbed on that stupid tree last summer" she said, her voice softening.

You both laughed, the memory of the reckless climb still fresh in your mind. “And you fell down on Joel's flowerbed” you added, grinning.

“Okay, okay! Enough about that!” she said, playfully shoving you.

After that, you weren't exactly sure of how the situation evolved but a wrestling match soon started between the two of you, trying to claim more of the quilt. You squealed, both of you laughing as you tangled together in the blanket, your hearts racing.

Eventually, you both collapsed back against the plush couch, breathless and smiling. The cold seemed more bearable now.

After a few moments of quiet, you turned to Ellie, your voice soft. “I’m really glad we have this time together" you whispered, thinking of all the time she had to leave early for patrol only to come back home late, and of course, exhausted. Not leaving much time for the two of you.

"You make everything feel right.”

Ellie’s eyes twinkled as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

She just smiled.

As you shared that quiet moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you.

With a content sigh, you leaned into her, giving her a kiss, letting the warmth of her presence envelop you as the wind made the leaves dance outside the window. And right there, in that old and cold garage, you knew you were exactly where you belonged.

A/n: this was so much fun 😭 let me know what you guys think 🤍🤍🤍🤍 MUAH

[harunayuuka2060]

Crowley: You'll be working as a janitor if you want to stay here for free.

MC: That includes food, shelter, clothes, and shower privilege, right?

Crowley: Why... yes. But nothing fancy.

MC: I don't expect that you would anyway. Where are the cleaning supplies?

Crowley: U-Uhm... *smiles* The ghosts will provide you.

Grim: Ugh... Why are we cleaning?

MC: *cleaning the windows on the 3rd floor* No one's asking you to clean, Grim. It's my job, not yours.

Grim: But it's scary to stay in Ramshackle alone!

MC: What are you scared of? Spiderwebs? Old floorboards? Tch.

The students: Haha! Look! A janitor!

Student A: Hey! My room's messy! You should clean it next!

Student B: And my room too!

The students: *laughs*

Grim: Nrrhhh!

MC: Grim, hand me the bucket.

Grim: Huh?

MC: Just hand me the bucket.

Grim: Okay. What will you do with tha—

MC: *throws the dirty water to the students below*

The students: *yells in disgust*

The students: Yuck! Smells like mud!

MC: Ara~ Sorry, sorry~ My hand slipped. *smiles*

Student A: You bitch! You did it on purpose—

MC: *looks at them menacingly* Huh? I said that my hand slipped. Didn't you hear me?

The students: *gulps* *talks to themselves and leaves*

Grim: Nyahaha! Losers!

MC: Grim, go get me a clean bucket of water.

Grim: Huh?! But you just dropped it.

MC: The water in it was dirty. Go get me a new batch. I'm too lazy to climb off.

Grim: Nrhh! Fine!

Crowley: Thank you for your hard work! I expect that you'll do the same tomorrow.

MC: *yawns* *waves their hand dismissively* Go away. I still need to cook.

Crowley: Alright. Please excuse me and enjoy the rest of your day. *then disappears*

MC: *mutters* That still freak me out the fuck...

Grim: Hench-human...

MC: What?

Grim: I'm hungry...

MC: Alright. I'll cook now. Just gnaw on the lamp post while you wait.

Grim: Nryah! No way I'll do that!

MC: *laughs*

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWO

CHAPTER ONE TWO THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

She wakes up in his bed without any recollection of how she got there and what happened. But does it matter? She'd be stupid to deny a hot, rich guy like him, wouldn't she? No matter what he demands of her...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Butt plug. Hand job/blow job. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.8k

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

She wakes to a low thumping inside her head and a strange taste on her tongue. It's a known hurt, usually brings up memories of parties, too much to drink, dancing till her feet give up. But she can't remember anything. And it's painful to even try to remember. It gets worse when she opens her eyes and finds herself in an unknown room.

On a bed. A stranger's bed.

Her first instinct is a little flutter of her heart, panic, unease, frantically looking around while she sits up slowly and bunches the covers around her shivering body. A quick feel beneath them gives her a short-lived peace of mind. She's not naked, but some of her clothes are missing. She swallows thickly, clears her throat, tests her voice.

Only to suddenly meet the stare of a man sitting opposite the bed, on a couch between two large floor-to-ceiling windows showing a familiar cityscape. She freezes when he looks at her with dark eyes, a little glint in them, a smirk on his lips as he watches her. She wraps the blanket tighter around herself.

“Good morning,” he says, voice deep, a low thrum in the air.

“Hi,” she replies hoarsely, her rapid heartbeat echoing inside her hurting skull.

“How do you feel?”

“Head hurts,” she mumbles, not even wondering why he would ask that. Not wondering anything at that point, really.

“There are some painkillers on the nightstand, and water,” he replies with a nod to her left.

She follows the hint and sees a large glass of water and two small pills next to it. And her skirt, neatly folded on the edge of the table. Leaning over to grab the things she needs to hopefully feel better, she keeps her eyes on him, cautious, hesitant. Once the pills are down and the glass empty, she inhales deeply, that awful taste gone from her mouth. One less thing to worry about. Though it gives her the chance to feel other things.

Like the stickiness between her thighs.

Shifting on the bed, she looks around, dares to break eye contact, gets a lay of the land, or at least the room. Huge. Minimalist. Just the bed, two bedside tables with a tiny lamp each, no clutter, a large couch on the opposite wall with a pompous rug in front of it, two doors to her right, one on the left. A single large plant in one corner. Fancy wooden floorboards, white walls adorned with exquisite trim. A luxurious light fixture built for a museum above her.

She looks back at him, her mind racing. “Do you remember me?” he asks when she meets his gaze. She nods. Of course she does. She's been coming to his club for weeks, and he finally noticed her. She has no idea how she ended up in his bedroom though.

He stands up, a tall frame clad in a fancy black suit with a white shirt, handsome and intimidating. Somehow even wealthier than she expected. His steps are confident as he approaches the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Did we –” she starts quietly, scooting back a little as he sits down on the edge, facing her.

“Did we what?” he replies, his lips curling up slightly. “Use your words, darling.”

She shivers, a strange feeling coursing through her as his words sink in. “Did we have sex?” she then manages to say, feeling her cheeks warming up.

“No,” he says, braced on one arm as he watches her closely. “Do you want us to?”

Now her head is burning, and she looks away with a sharp inhale. His laugh is low and rough. She breathes loudly through her nose.

“Is that not why you came to me?”

Their eyes meet again, she bites the inside of her cheek. Has it been that obvious? It's been a stunt, a challenge from her friends, a silly little dream. She's had no idea it would actually work. Whatever it was that made it work. There hasn't been much planning, to be honest, with how drunk she's been, high on adrenaline and endorphins, too happy to care about possible consequences.

She flinches when he extends a hand and brushes his fingers against her side, curls them into the blanket. Her heart is racing as he slowly pulls it away, exposing her. She doesn't fight it, just freezes, hugs her knees to her chest, crosses her feet, when the covers fall away. Why doesn't she fight it? Why should she? He's hot, rich, gives her the attention she's been craving her whole life. She'd be stupid to push a man like that away.

But he doesn't touch her, just looks at her, eyes wandering over her body, while she sits on the bed, shivering, waiting, her mind spinning.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and she frowns at the question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His eyes meet hers, his gaze intense, dark, somewhat hungry. There's a playful twitch to his lips, and he leans back, licking them. “Probably the same reason why you approached me,” he replies quietly, his voice low with an almost dangerous edge to it. “To fuck you absolutely senseless.”

His words make her gasp, eyes widening at the bluntness. Still she feels that throb between her legs, the warmth seeping into her panties. She shouldn't be this excited, and she forces herself to not make it too obvious.

Grinding her jaw, she looks away, towards the large windows. She has no idea what time of day it is, the sky is gray and the buildings she can see are only various shapes in a different shade of gray. She must be downtown, it's too high up to recognize anything. She's never been in any of the taller buildings of the city before.

His hand is on her foot, long fingers curling around it, and she whips her head back to him, inhaling sharply. “Is that not what you want?” he whispers, his thumb drawing circles on her ankle.

She breathes faster, no longer as sure as she's been last night. It's not helping that she cannot remember anything other than approaching him at the bar. There's the faint image of being pinned to a wall, making out in the darkness. But nothing more. She swallows, staring down at his hand.

“I... I don't know...” she mumbles. His thumb stops moving, he tilts his head at her.

“Are you a virgin, sweetheart?” he asks bluntly.

She clears her throat, ears burning under her hair. “Uh, yeah,” she admits, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. His touch feels too warm, too invasive all of a sudden.

“Do you want to leave here a virgin?”

She doesn't like the way he says that, it makes goosebumps ripple over her skin. He takes his hand away, and she looks at him. She's expected him to grin at her, look suggestive, leering and creepy, somehow, but his expression is full of genuine worry, lines on his forehead, a furrow between his brows. Dark eyes as intense as ever, but warmer. And so freaking handsome it's really distracting.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she can only shake her head. His face relaxes, the hint of a smile grazing his lips. “Good,” he says and stands up. She flinches at the sudden movement. “Go take a shower,” he then orders, pointing to one of the doors to her right. “There's some stuff you can use in there. Wait here when you're done.”

His tone is authoritative, not leaving any room for complaints or hesitation. “Yes, sir,” slips out of her almost automatically, and he smiles wider.

“Good girl,” he says, winking at her as he walks around the bed towards the door leading out of the room.

He leaves her sitting on the bed, shivering, a strange tension in her stomach. She doesn't even try to comprehend why his last two words to her felt like something she's never experienced before, like a warm shiver running down her spine, a caress deep within her. An itch she never knew she needed to scratch.

The bathroom is almost as huge as the bedroom, black and white tiles, warm wooden tones in the vanity and cabinets lining one wall to accent the lack of colors. There's a big bathtub in front of a large window, the lower half of it covered by expensive looking blinds, showing only the gray sky beyond. The shower is enormous, could easily fit five people. But she's alone in it, standing under the spray, still pondering what is happening. What she's agreed to.

Has she agreed to anything though? Well, denying to want to leave or to remain a virgin couldn't be more straight-forward.

What's gotten into her?

Sure, he's handsome, wealthy, owns a night club, lives in an apartment overlooking the city, quite a catch, but he is still a stranger. Just a man she's grown a little infatuated with over the last visits to his club. She's always seen him lounging at the bar, looking over the dance floor, dark eyes scanning the crowd. She's seen him hooking up with random girls, leading them into the back.

And she wanted to be one of them.

A silly wish, and now she stands naked in his shower. It's almost too good to be true. No, it's foolish, dangerous even. She doesn't know him. Did she really agree to be taken back to his place? She can't remember. Why can't she remember? The painkillers work, but the low thumping is still there, muffled and no longer as agonizing, but still there, in the back of her mind, like a mass of unanswered questions burning through her nerves.

Inhaling deeply, surrounded by the steam of the shower and the faint scent of him that clings to the room, she tilts her chin up and lets the water run down her head, over her warm face, through her hair down her back, little rivulets following the curves of her body. Gosh! She's never felt this nervous before.

But in the end it's just sex, isn't it? Better to lose her virginity to a rich guy in his fancy place than to a drunk guy in a dirty alleyway. It can't be that bad, right?

When she steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, her gaze falls onto the little pile on the vanity. Rubbing her hair, she inspects it – and freezes. It's underwear, white lace with the hint of shimmery satin, intricate, barely able to cover anything, bra and panties, but that's not what makes her insides churn. It's the little metal thing lying on top, the teardrop shape with a small handle like a knob, adorned with a big sparkling jewel. She may be inexperienced, but she knows exactly what it is. He left her a freaking butt plug.

Shivering at the thought of putting anything up her ass, she ignores it and focuses on the packaged toothbrush he's given her. Putting all her energy into brushing her teeth, drying her body, blowing hot air through her messy hair, she quickly forgets about the implication that special gift holds. When she puts on the white underwear, she leans towards the mirror and wipes at the steamed-up surface to look at herself. A gasp escapes her.

Not only does she look so different in the lace set (the white little embroidered flowers barely covering her nipples or her sex, the thong sitting deep between her butt cheeks, leaving nothing to the imagination), but she also notices the large bruise on the side of her neck.

Her finger traces the deep purple mark, and she shivers. The memory is faint, but she can feel it as she remembers last night (or what remains of it), how he's sucked on her skin, his warm mouth, even warmer tongue, licking over his work. She swallows thickly. The throbbing is back, low inside her, her stomach tense. It's either fear or anticipation, she can't be sure just yet.

When she exits the bathroom with her hair cascading down her shoulders, trying to cover more of her chest, she lets out a little yelp when she sees him sitting on the couch again, one leg over the other, lowering his phone when he notices her. His eyes are on her immediately, and she tries to cover herself with her hands as she walks backwards to the nightstand, trying to grab her skirt.

“No need,” he says, his voice firm, and she freezes, hand extended, fingers brushing over the fabric. She frowns at him, and he shakes his head. “You'll only wear what I tell you,” he adds, and the harsh tone lets her exposed skin pebble, his words barely registering inside her suddenly empty mind.

She inhales sharply, holding her breath. She's never felt this exposed and vulnerable, embarrassed that he can see her like this. Even though he'll probably see a lot more of her very soon. The thought scares her as much as it excites her. To say she's conflicted is an understatement.

When he stands up abruptly, she flinches, and even more so when he is with her in a few quick strides of his long legs. His hand closes around her wrist, pulling her towards him. She has to look up at him now, her chest rising and falling faster, heart thundering loudly, something hot gathering deep in her belly. He watches her closely, a stern look in his eyes, as his other hand slides down her side, over skin and lace, curves around her rear, and she shrieks when she feels his fingers dipping into the cleft between her ass cheeks.

He lets go of her, his eyebrows furrowed. She bites her lip as he scrutinizes her darkly, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. He comes back with the little metal thing between his fingers, and she feels her stomach tensing up even more.

“You didn't like my little gift, huh?” he says quietly, almost menacingly.

“I... I did–didn't know how to... use that...” she admits in a breathy whisper.

“Hmm,” he hums and steps closer to her, one hand cupping her face as he leans towards her, the other holding up the plug, dangerously close to her lips. She stares at him, stiffening, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Open your mouth,” he tells her.

She hesitates, and he pushes his thumb and forefinger into her cheeks, forcing her jaw apart. A muffled whimper escapes her, and she grabs at his wrist instinctively. His gaze darkens.

“Tongue out,” he whispers, his voice that low thrum in the air, stern and strict, and she knows she shouldn't hesitate anymore. Slowly she extends her tongue, flat, mouth open, her eyes wide as she watches him when he lowers the metal object onto it. “Come on, lick it or it goes in dry.”

A cold shiver crashes through her, every muscle clenching in anticipation. Struggling to swallow hard (which isn't easy with her mouth open), she flicks her tongue around the cold object, holding his gaze. He pushes the plug deeper between her lips and forces her to close her mouth around it. She feels her eyes watering as he pushes it in and out, coating it in her saliva, warming it up. It's humiliating, to say the least. But she's afraid it's only the beginning...

He plops the plug back out of her mouth, then quickly pulls her against him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. She can barely react as he manhandles her onto his lap, draped over it, ass raised, stomach pressing into his hard thigh, hair falling over her head. She claws at the fabric of his pants, squirming on his lap, her head spinning as she tries to understand what's happening. “Hold still,” he tells her, but it's almost an instinct to writhe more, fight against what he has planned.

The sudden slap of his hand against her ass cheek is loud in her ears, and it takes a moment before the pain attacks her senses. A pathetic little cry escapes her, and she kicks her feet. Another slap to the other cheek makes her yelp again, the sting to her soft skin like nothing she's ever felt before.

“Hold still!” he repeats, and she whimpers, buries her head in his leg, and forces herself not to squirm, despite the throbbing pain. She feels tears in her eyes, her mind blank with shock. Her breaths are frantic, little wheezes of panic. “Shh,” he makes, his hand gently caressing the irritated skin now. She relaxes a bit, but only until he pulls her thong to the side and she feels something cold pressing against her sphincter.

“No!” she whines out, unable not to squirm, and he sighs deeply. Instead of spanking her again, he brushes his finger along her cleft, warm, a teasing tingle, a little rough, but better than that hard plug. Until she hears and feels him spitting on her, something warm and wet gathering on her skin, his finger spreading it around slowly, and then he dips his fingertip into her tight hole.

She gasps and tenses up immediately, only making it worse. He doesn't care, slowly works his finger deeper, wriggling it slightly, easing the tight muscles. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, quietly whimpering, frozen in place. Surrendering to the fate she seemingly called upon herself. By the time he forces the plug into her ass, she's sobbing, unsure how to feel about the object poking out of her – and what that says about his other plans for her.

He helps her stand then, big hands on her upper arms, looks down at her as she looks up at him through her tears. Sighing deeply, he wipes at her wet face, smoothing her hair, shaking his head. “You'll learn to love it,” he whispers before he leans in and presses his lips to hers for a soft kiss, a gesture she hasn't expected after whatever just happened. His words barely register, the underlying threat (or promise?) for more overpowered by her own shame and confusion.

Leaning back, one hand on her face, thumb on her bottom lip, he watches her, something dark glinting in his eyes. His other hand moves along the curve of her spine before he gives her another slap to her tense ass cheek. She cries out, flinching away, feeling her muscles clenching around the metal thing inside her. He only laughs and grabs her hand, pulling her after him.

She puts her bare feet into the ground, and he looks back at her, eyebrows raised. “C-can I... get something m-more to wear?” she asks quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

He tilts his head, chuckling. “No need,” he says again. “It's just us, baby, don't worry.” She doesn't know how to feel about that.

“Please?” she tries again. “I'm... cold...”

“Are you now?” he whispers, his hand moving up to her chest, his thumb pressing against her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. “Doesn't look like it.”

She lowers her head, inhaling sharply, blinking away new tears.

“Little advice, darling,” he says, putting his finger under her chin and making her look at him. “Never lie to me.” His words are cold, his eyes dark as he stares at her. “Understood?”

She swallows, nods slowly. He grabs her chin, narrowing his eyes. “Y-yes,” she says, quickly adding: “Sir.”

He lets go of her and gives her a smile, his hand on her head, patting it softly. “Good girl,” he whispers. Her insides tense up, something cold trickles down her spine while something warm throbs inside her core.

He takes her through his vast apartment, but she's too focused on walking behind him to really look around, his hand big and tight around hers, her bare feet tapping over the wooden floor, and she feels practically naked in that sorry excuse for underwear he's forced her to wear.

Force, there's no way around it now. He's forcing her to do this, no matter what she might have agreed to. That plug in her ass that twitches with every step she takes? She didn't want that and yet it's there now, tightly gripped by her confused muscles, the shiny knob brushing against her thong, giving her shiver after shiver. But she's too stunned and overwhelmed by it all to even think about finding a way out of this.

Is this still what she wants? Has she ever truly wanted this, whatever this is? She has no idea, she just knows, somehow, that whatever he tells her to do, she'll do it if he keeps calling her good girl. It's a strange realization, two simple words, but they make her feel special, like she's never felt before. Just thinking about it makes her core ache, her muscles clench, her nipples perk up.

She's caught in her own mind when he stops in front of a set of couches, a u-shape in a large room, a plush rug beneath her feet, more of those big floor-to-ceiling windows, the gray city beyond the glass, so far away it seems. He watches her, she realizes when she looks up at him with a slight frown, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. Letting go of her hand, he sits down, leans deep into the cushions, both arms resting on the back of the couch.

“Straddle me,” he says quietly as she shifts nervously on her feet in front of him. Swallowing, she moves her gaze from his eyes to his crotch, to his wide spread legs. A confident sitting position, exuding dominance. And she knows she shouldn't hesitate, but it still takes her a moment to follow the order.

Slowly she moves closer, one leg on either side of his, cautiously pushing them together a bit to allow her to kneel on the couch and sit down on his strong thighs. Her hands find his shoulders for support, and she watches him as closely as he watches her. Her heart is racing when she settles on his lap, trying not to focus on the fact that her legs are spread wide enough to give him a good look at the scandalously thin fabric of her thong, barely hiding anything.

He tilts his head as she retrieves her hands and folds them in front of her sex, head lowered, shoulders stiff, still unsure what she is even doing here. Suddenly he grabs her waist, large hands splayed around her body, making her look back at him with a little gasp.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes boring into hers. It's not a question of consent, it's another command, and she can't help but agree yet again.

“I... I want this,” she says under her breath.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

She inhales deeply. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he urges, fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want...” she starts, chewing on her lip, her eyes wandering away from him, her cheeks burning up in embarrassment. “I...” Her mouth feels dry. “I want you to... to...” She swallows thickly. “...to sleep with me...”

His laugh sounds almost mocking. She looks up with her eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursed, discomfort written all over her face. “So fucking innocent,” he mutters, shaking his head, amusement or malice making his lips twitch. “Say you want me to fuck you. Come on, use big girl words, baby.”

She presses her lips together, shifting on his lap. “I... I want you to... f-fuck me...” she repeats quietly, clenching her jaw, trying to hide the shaking of her voice, embarrassment burning deep inside her belly.

His hands move up her sides until he grabs her face, pulling her closer towards him until his nose brushes against hers. “You want me to take your virginity?” he whispers darkly, his breath fanning over her face.

“Y-yes,” she whispers back, her heart beating harder.

“You want my cock in your cunt?”

She flinches at his words, but nods into his hands.

“Say it...”

She swallows, breathing loudly through her nose. “I... I want your... your cock... in my... my c-cunt,” she stammers, feeling the blush spreading all over her body, her eyes watering under the intensity of his gaze, his closeness, his grip on her face, the dominance in his voice.

He smiles, quickly pressing his lips to hers. “Good girl.”

She closes her eyes, a deep shudder rushing through her body like a wave of relief. He pulls her against him, wrapping both arms around her, just holding her while she rests her cheek on his shoulder, savoring his warmth, the unexpected intimacy of a simple hug. But simple doesn't seem to be something he likes, because his hands wander lower, cupping her rear, fingers kneading her soft flesh, teasing between her cheeks, rubbing along the thin strip of fabric, pressing against the base of the plug.

Forcing herself not to flinch, she just leans against him and lets him touch her, her hands squished between their bodies, dangerously close to the warm hardness between his legs. With how he handles her butt, she's forced closer against him, her fingers brushing along the bulge, and when he suddenly pulls on the plug, she jerks away and into him, pelvis slamming into his lower stomach, and she can feel him through the thin fabric of her thong. Hard and hot.

His hands move back to her hips, pulling her away again. He looks at her, curiously with a dark glint in his eyes. “Have you ever touched a cock, darling?” he asks quietly.

She licks her lips, shakes her head.

“Seen one?”

Another shake of her head. His amusement turns into surprise, while the shame of her confession makes her blush even more. He gives her a strangely sweet smile, one hand on her warm cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her lips.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” she replies, her heart racing. His eyebrows rise up, and she quickly adds: “Sir?” He just looks at her, pointedly, demanding. “I... I want to touch it...” she then whispers, biting her lip. “Your... your cock...”

He caresses her cheek, smiling. “Such a quick learner,” he praises. “Well, go on then, make your wish come true,” he continues, leaning into the cushions, pushing her backwards a little, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he watches her intently.

She stares at him for a moment before she understands the command. Shifting on his lap, her fingers move towards his belt, shaking uncontrollably, her mind reeling, heart beating out of her chest. Somehow she manages to unbuckle his belt and open the button and zipper of his pants. Without too much thought, her hand curls into the opening, fingertips brushing against warm skin.

Looking up for confirmation, she sees him nodding, and when she frees his hard erection (the sight more intimidating than she expected) by pulling the fabric down, his lips curl up into a smirk. “Don't be shy, just grab it.”

She does, two small hands around his girthy length, his flesh hot and hard, veins bulging against her palms. A little throbbing motion from deep within. Unsure what to do, she just squeezes her hands around him a little, until he puts his big hand on hers and starts moving it, showing her how he wants her to touch him. He's surprisingly patient with his teachings, guides one of her hands up and down his shaft while he places her other to cup around his testicles.

Her breaths are frantic little puffs of air, her cheeks are burning in embarrassment, but when she looks at his face instead of his angrily throbbing cock, she sees him smiling at her, a soft expression she hasn't expected, almost proud, and she inhales deeply and focuses on the task at hand – literally.

Eventually he takes his hands away and lets her do her thing, and she follows the movements he's shown her, moving her hand up and down, shifting the soft skin over his hardened core, closing her fist around his tip, smearing the precum leaking from it around his length, while the fingers of her other hand knead the soft flesh of his balls. It's almost relaxing, meditative.

He's breathing deeper, louder, and she can see his face tensing up, as if he's holding himself back. She continues stroking him, pumping him with all she has, until he grabs her wrist and stops her, his eyes almost black from how dilated his pupils are. She's too stunned to fight him when he suddenly manhandles her onto the couch next to him, on her knees, facing him, and he forces her head down with an iron grip to her hair. She yelps in surprise.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps, voice deep and rough. She swallows hard, stares down at his cock twitching inches away from her face. But she follows the order, her lips trembling as she parts them, tongue out flat, and before she can prepare herself, he's forced her head down on him. His tip slips into her mouth, warm and wet, a slightly bitter taste on her tongue. “Close your lips around it and suck,” he orders, his grip unrelenting.

She feels her eyes watering, her chest heaving in panic, her hands bracing around his thigh. He holds her in place, waits for her to do so, and when she hollows her cheeks, he inhales sharply. She breathes loudly through her nose, feeling his cock hard and heavy against her tongue, poking into her gums. It's just the tip, but it fills out her mouth to the point she's afraid to choke on it.

“Keep... pumping,” he breathes, hoarsely, on the verge of losing it. Her hand finds the rest of his dick, and she starts moving it up and down his length, still so much ground to cover, so big she's somehow glad he doesn't force it deeper, or even down her throat.

His body is shivering beneath her, the hand in her hair tightening its grip until it hurts. Muffled whimpers escape her, but she keeps sucking on his tip, precum and saliva filling her mouth, dripping past her lips and down her chin. She moves her tongue as best as she can, flicking it around his spongy crown, while stroking up and down his throbbing girth quick and hard.

A grunt escapes him, and she feels him twitching inside her mouth and against her palm. He grabs her head with both hands and holds it down, it's a sharp pain that makes tears roll over her cheeks, but it's nothing compared to the sudden jerk against the back of her throat that makes her flinch in panic.

She tastes it, hot and salty and thick, as he comes inside her mouth, spurt after spurt, filling her cheeks until she can't hold it anymore and has to swallow. It hurts to do so, and she opens her jaw a little wider, letting most of it drip down her chin as she gulps for air.

He relaxes beneath her, his grip easing on her head, releasing her. His hand pries her tight fingers off his cock and holds it himself while he pulls her back a little. She looks up at him from under her clumped lashes, vision blurry, mouth and chin covered in a thick layer of spit and cum. She feels too lightheaded to be embarrassed about how she may look, and when he gives her a weak smile, she cares even less.

His finger traces along her chin, gathers his cum and slowly pushes between her trembling lips. It's almost an instinct to lick around his fingertip, and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. He keeps cleaning her and she keeps licking up his essence, the taste growing on her despite the initial bitterness. He wipes his palm over her mouth, smearing the last remnants over her lips, before he holds out his hand to her, soiled palm up, watching her closely.

She shifts on her knees, her body shivering, overwhelmed by all these new experiences, but she manages to cradle his big hand with her smaller ones and leans down to trace her tongue over his lifelines, lapping up the rest until his hand is clean. He nods approvingly and grabs her chin to guide her back to his crotch. “Clean,” he says quietly, and she only nods and bends down to bring her tongue to his cock once more.

His fingers dig into her hair, gentle caresses this time, light scalp massages, while she licks around his tip, sucks up the last drops of cum from his slit, moves up and down his shaft with her lips sucking lightly, while her lungs burn and her head throbs. It's as if it's the only thing that exists anymore, his cock, his pleasure, his contentment. Only to get the soft touches and gentle words, those two words he has yet to say to her for her service, her obedience.

He pulls her back once she's done, quickly putting himself away again while she leans on her knees, head bowed, licking her lips, swaying slightly as if drunk. It's a strange kind of serenity. Calm, head empty, his taste lingering on her tongue. Nothing more to worry about.

Shifting beside her, he pulls her onto his lap, strong arms caging her in, her head resting on his shoulder as he holds her, one hand rubbing up and down her back. “You did good,” he whispers, and she shivers, soaking up the praise like a sponge, saving it for later.

“Thank you,” she breathes against him, and the hand on her back pauses.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks.

She swallows, inhaling deeply. “For... for saying that I did good, for... teaching me, for...” She feels her cheeks burning up, head clearing enough to feel embarrassed again. “For... letting me touch and... and taste you...” she adds in a low mumble, burying her face in his collarbone. For not forcing me to do more, she thinks.

He laughs softly, resuming the rubbing of her back. “It's nice to start the day like this, huh?”

She only hums in response, melting into his body as he holds her. They sit like this for a long moment, it feels strangely natural, intimate and warm. Something she could get used to. Something that scratches the itch deep within.

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

End notes: It's only going downhill from here...

By the way, you may or may not have noticed that these characters don't have names: and that's on purpose. I want to keep this as vague as possible, focusing solely on their connection. If you need to address them, I guess Sir and Darling would work? But really, it's just He and She now.

(And if you wanted to, you can imagine them being your favorite fictional characters also. I didn't describe their appearance either, despite it being an older, taller man and younger, shorter woman. Anything goes.)

And yes, our female character is very naive, very submissive, very innocent indeed. I hope it's not too much. She has a crush, okay? And we all know (hopefully) how that can turn brains into mush.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾️TWO◾️THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE

SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[ymechi]

Who is the real Creator?

Sorry this took so long I have so much to say but I have no idea where to start. I hope you guys are okay with how it ended and the decision I made. This is a yandere au but with Nahida it is platonic (and the rest of the underage characters).

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, self harm (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, this is part 5, part 6

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Reader began to unpack their stuff, it was mostly clothes and books, everything else like cooking utensils was unnecessary as there were attendants who would handle stuff like cooking and cleaning. Reader guessed that was the perks of being an Archon.

The room was a bit of a mess the large doors were open and the boxes littered the floor with various trinkets and Readers personal belongings. 

One should not look down on how much stuff one can gather, even in a foreign world. Soon they would be able to write poems with how well their vocabulary had gotten.

Reader took out a shirt and folded it neatly putting it inside the nicely carved wardrobe. They felt a little out of place in the spacious and very fancy room. Yet there was a certain charm towards it, Reader especially loved the tall glass windows that let the sunlight in.

"I see you are already settling in."

"Oh, Nahida! I did not see you there, yeah I thought it was best to do it while I could."

"You know there are attendants if you ever need help, please don't feel too bad it's their job after all."

"Well if you put it that way. . . I guess I could use a hand with the rest of the clothes." 

Reader had underestimated how many clothes they had, it was boring to fold them and sort them all. They had bought most of their clothes and personal items as both Nahida and Reader did not know the extent of the tension that Darling's reveal would cause.

They looked through the boxes and one object caught Readers eye. It shined as the sun reflected on it. Reader took it out and observed it. This was a gift Darling had given them, it was a Fanoos that was intricately carved and made out of polished gold. The lantern's glass was made out of various colors in geometrical shapes. Overall it was very beautiful something Reader would like.

Speaking of. . .

"Nahida what will happen to Darling after. . . you know?"

Nahida watched the lantern that was in their hand without saying anything and then looked at Reader with a smile.

"It was decided that they would go to an isolated temple in Inazuma for their own safety. Even if they are innocent we can't be too careful what others might do."

Well, at least Darling would be safe there was no need to worry after all they had the Raiden shogun. Inazuma would be far away though.

They looked at the Fanoos, it would be pretty to add it near the nightstand. . . There was already a lamp there, so they decided to put it on a bookshelf instead.

"It looks very nice on the shelf there," said Nahida.

"Yeah, I am glad you think so too," replied Reader.

Reader saw a familiar hat figure silhouette from the open door. It was Wanderer as they had expected, curiously he was carrying several moving boxes as well.

"That is right I forgot to tell you Wanderer decided for extra security to move in here as well, I saw no reason to turn him down."

"O-oh but is it fine for him to just move like that because of me?"

Wanderer must have heard the conversation as he turned to look directly at them. He nodded toward Reader who gave him a small wave. After the status of Readers creator-hood was revealed Wanderer had taken to being polite to Reader but after some more nagging on their part, he had mellowed down a bit. He did tease them from time to time as was normal between them.

Reader hoped with time they could go back to the usual scowling Wanderer who did not hesitate to say what was on his mind.

However, that did make Reader ponder why he turned polite while Nahida stayed the same.

Reader must have been staring at Nahida as the Archon looked at them with a tilted head.

"I see you two are talking behind my back, not very nice I must say."

"We were just talking about your new living arrangements," she looked at Wanderer with an innocent look, "you know, it made their grace feel really bad."

Reader snorted at Nahida's jab at getting into Wanderer.

Wanderer looked surprised but sighed looking at Reader with a sincere expression they did not expect to get today.

"There is no need to concern yourself with that I chose to move out of my own violation, no one forced me to."

Reader gave an awkward smile and wrung their hands together.

"Alright, but I still feel bad-," Wanderer sighed at Reader, "let me finish! I feel bad so if you need any help come to me okay?"

Wanderer looked like he was about to turn down the offer until Nahida interjected.

"Actually since you both are moving in how about we all take a shopping trip to buy decorations, you can then ask Reader for advice on what to buy, two birds in one stone."

"A shopping trip sounds nice," Reader said and looked at Wanderer with hopeful eyes.

Wanderer closed his eyes and sighed.

"It seems you won't let this go, fine then let me put these stuff down and we can go down to the market."

Nahida and Reader looked at each other with a smile. It was going to be a fun trip.

.

.

.

The sunset this day was a bright crimson and was fading into orange at the horizon. There was no cloud in sight. the people were gathered near the central temple in Sumeru. One of the Creator's temples. Reader grimaced.

They adjusted their hood once again feeling nervous not to get caught. Wanderer held their hand more tightly and they gave a squeeze back feeling thankful.

Soon one of the heads of the religion came out near the podium.

The people were confused and some were curious but it was clear soon everyone would find out what the gathering was for.

Nahida stepped up as well, and she began to speak. Then the priest took over and Reader watched everyone's face turn to shock and outrage.

Impostor.

Reader clenched their jaw and held Wanderer's hand tighter. He did not flinch or let go.

Nahida and the priest calmed the people down in the end but there was still much tension left.

By the end of it Reader and Wanderer left the place.

.

.

.

They met Nahida outside of a meeting room. She looked exhausted and Reader's heart ached. With clumsy hands, they took out a juice bottle they had.

"You look tired, please take some."

Nahida gave a small smile and nodded.

"Thank you."

Her voice was small and a bit hoarse no doubt from all the talking. Once again Reader felt awful not being able to do anything, especially since Nahida was a dear friend.

"Please don't worry about me I am fine, as an Archon this is one of the many duties I must attend to," her face turned more serious looking at Reader, "I am afraid we are not done yet this is your turn now."

Reader's shoulders squared and they nodded. Right, it was their turn now. No more running away and this time they were not alone either. Reader looked at their friends and gave a reassuring smile.

Nahida smiled and nodded at them before turning and opening the door.

It wasn't as intimidating as they had imagined when they entered the room. It was decided for Reader's sake they would ask the acolyte and Archons who would be able to attend to come and not tell anything of the importance of the meeting. Naturally since the recent announcement from the church most would be busy, only those who had time would come and it would not be a large group. It was better for Reader to start off small Nahida had recommended and they agreed.

The Archon’s that were able to attend were unsurprisingly Venti and Zhongli. Yet most people in the room would be unaware of the importance of such figures.

As they entered Nahida stepped in front of them while Wanderer walked behind them, they felt rather safe this way.

The others who had arrived were Diluc, Lisa, Cyno, Kujo Sara and Chlorinde. Quite the cast had come. Now all of their eyes were on the trio but mostly on Reader as they stood in front.

Nahida stepped up to speak but Reader beat them to it putting a hand in front of her, all while still looking at their audience.

The sky outside was just as red there was an odd silence in the wind. The shadows on the acolytes' faces deepened and their eyes became glaring embers of accusation evident on their eyes.

Impostor.

They had thought a lot about what to say, and there were many words and accusations they wanted to scream at the top of their lungs until Reader's voice became hoarse and dry. Yet what were words when actions could speak louder?

They took out the same kitchen knife from before on that day from their pocket. They did not bother to look at their reactions. Reader took out their palm and cut it and watched as it bled a brilliant gold. They were still unused to the sight themselves and took a moment to admire it.

They heard a sharp breath. Before anyone could speak they threw the knife onto the table.

Reader then left the room.

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Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo @yu-ulda @samohxt2-0 @pinkpainc @vianitry

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters vs. Wrapping an Oddly Shaped Present

It's a well-known bane of Christmas time: you've gotten somebody a stuffed animal or a tennis racket or a small, tasteful antique lamp...and now you have to wrap it. If Cosmere characters had Christmas or wrapping paper, how would they approach this unique challenge?

1. Siri

Uses way, WAY too much wrapping paper...but she gets the job done.

2. Vivenna

Carefully measures out the correct amount of wrapping paper...which is inevitably not enough, meaning that the paper doesn't quite meet in the middle. She has to cut off the extra strip of wrapping paper and tape it across the middle to finish the job.

3. Kaladin

Tries over and over again, but each time, the wrapping paper comes up short and can't quite cover the present. Finally, at the last possible moment (15 minutes before unwrapping time), he gives it one final try...and nails it.

4. Sebarial

Hires a professional gift wrapper to do it for him, loudly claiming that it's because he's far too lazy to wrap a gift by himself.

5. Kelsier

Wraps cardboard box instead. Inside the cardboard box is another, smaller box which is also wrapped. Inside that is, you guessed it, another, smaller box that is also wrapped. But if you keep going, you'll eventually get to the smallest box, inside which is a note, which says, "Look in your bedroom closet." The gift is there. The whole process takes 30 minutes and he does this every year.

6. Steris

Carefully figures out the exact geometric shape needed in order to properly and neatly wrap the gift. Nails it.

7. Navani

Has her team researching the best ways to wrap gifts of this particular shape. In the end, Navani invents a whole new type of math while getting it done herself.

8. Dalinar

Simply hands over the gift, unwrapped.

9. Wax

Puts a fancy bow on the unwrapped present and leaves it under the tree.

10. Wayne

Does not wrap the gift, exactly, but does hide it somewhere which is kinda like wrapping it.

11. Vin

Has only just mastered the art of wrapping a square gift. Sazed takes care of it for her, and it looks beautiful.

12. Adolin

Just gives it a good, honest try--yes the wrapping is a bit weird looking and he uses a lot of tape, but it's done and you can really tell he did it himself.

13. Jasnah

Has never struggled to wrap a present of any shape in her life. She just does it. It looks amazing.

14. Shallan

Manages to wrap the gift in a way that makes it appear to be an entirely different gift--think "wrapping a tennis racket so that it appears to be a stuffed bear." Lightweaving may or may not have been involved.

15. Yumi

Uses lots of smaller pieces of wrapping paper to cover different parts of the gift, so that in the end it is all properly wrapped.

16. Painter

Uses bamboo-print cloth to wrap the present instead. Just puts the gift inside, gathers the edges of the cloth together and ties it off. Easy.

17. Tress

Her first attempt at wrapping an oddly shaped present is admittedly poor, but once she becomes the go-to person who wraps all oddly shaped presents for everyone she gets really, really good at it.

18. Lopen

Luckily he has this one cousin, see, who's just REALLY good at present-wrapping.

19. Renarin

Puts the gift into a box first so that it is easier to wrap.

20. Sarene

Uses a gift bag.

[furiousgoldfish]

To all of you who are feeling behind on survival skills, worried you won't be able to succeed in life because you're not allowed to learn/not able to learn, I want you to know that some basics are extremely easy to get once you're able to try it on your own, or even just have one person explain it to you.

When I ran away from home, I didn't know how to cook, I wasn't allowed to learn, and first month or so, I was preoccupied with just learning how to cook. What I learned was that it was far more easy than my parents ever made it seem. If you're trying to cook just for proper nutrition and not make some fancy meals, most of what you have to do is heat the groceries, and salt them. If you cut up some vegetables and put them in water an add salt, you will have a soup. If you lay them on a tray and put them in the oven, you've made food. You can put stuff in a pan with some oil and stir it on heat and you have a meal. For basic eating, it can be really that simple. I also was able to pick stuff up just from my roommates, who would happily answer my questions, and a lot of people out there will happily explain to you how they make a certain food, and of course, there's video tutorials for specific meals, if you want to make something more complex. Once you have absolute freedom in the kitchen, you will pick this up rapidly.

I have never used a washing machine prior to running away, and then one person showed me once how to use one, and that was that. I was washing-machine certified after that. I gained extra knowledge about cleaning it on the internet, and some people randomly had tips for me about it. I learned to handwash later as well, and that works good too.

I've struggled at the beginning, to find easy and cheap ways to get stuff; the most common way to get things is to go to the store, but I didn't have a lot of money, and buying things was too expensive for me. I've since discovered just where to find the second-hand markets, how to get people to give me their old clothing so I never have to buy any, how to temper with stuff I have so I wouldn't have to buy anything, at this point I even know how to fix shoes and sew my own stuff. I've fixed blinds on almost every window in here, without even knowing how, I just dismantled everything and figured it out. I've put together closets and lamps. I've learned to open up my own laptop and change the parts inside, I've even changed the screen on my own, by watching a video on how it's done. I've learned how to repaint walls, how to tend to plants, how to maintain a living space. Often I'd see someone else who is able to do these things, and just ask. People who are not parents have no reason to gatekeep this information, and they proudly told me how they do it.

I've learned to organize my stuff to the point where I'm able to easily clean a big mess, and I don't get overwhelmed with things anymore. I've had to do some reading on the internet to figure out the situation with finances and economy, and I also asked some people, got wildly different answers from every person. When I have the opportunity to chat with someone who has a specific job, I ask them about what they do, and have them describe to me how that field of work functions. It gave me insight into a lot of inner workings of society that were previously a mystery to me.

I was able to figure this all out while having zero faith in myself; I believed I was stupid, incapable of survival, honestly thought I would be dead within few months. I was reading army survival guides so I could survive in the wild if I ever got homeless. I was learning even without believing that all of this would help me, it's only now looking back at everything that I understand how much knowledge I gained just from trying it and doing it in every possible way until it clicked.

The most complex for me, were the social skills, since I'm still easily scared of people. But I am slowly making progress on that and finding better ways to deal with people's behaviours. Being curious works well because people love when someone is curious about them and shows interest in what they do. It's been a revelation that outside of my home, I really can just ask any question I am interested about, and will usually get some kind of an answer, and not 'how do you not know this already'. Outside of abusive homes, you're not expected to know everything, without ever being told.

While survival skills and independence are deeply forbidden in an abusive situation, being out of one will practically guarantee you that you'll get them. Sometimes you'll be forced to learn some stuff like cleaning and cooking and you'll have no choice but to learn, and it will become easier the more you do it. But nobody will make you feel bad for not doing it right the first time, there will be no punishment, no berating, you're free mess it up any amount of times, without any consequences. I would say that maybe you wasted some time and effort, but no time or effort is truly wasted when you're learning something; rather it takes that time and effort to learn. But it's not painful, it's not shameful, it's not forbidden anymore. You can learn a lot of things at your own ease and convenience, without worrying about someone's opinion on what you're doing. You can also learn dumb things and never be criticized or called out on it, you can do absolutely ridiculous stuff that brings you joy and no harm is done.

I know feeling behind sucks, and it feels shameful and horrible, but the good news is that you can catch up very quickly, and not only that. If you really want to have a lot of survival skills under your belt, and you keep learning, you will soon know more than most people do. You can out-do any person out there if you have a passion for it. I had people who were telling me how to do basic stuff, surprised at me knowing more than they knew, just months later. It's a great feeling!

[kandy-sticks-zaza-blogs]

🍯Beelzebub Redesign🐝

Since Viv didn’t do her justice or make her fat I decided to do it myself.I made her orange and yellow because pink and blue doesn’t suit her at all also they did she make her a furry???Like isn’t she a bug??? I decided to make her have a skull wings and a suit because who gave her some horrendous clothes that doesn’t make sense? She would be more like her biblically accurate looks,a bee,a hornet and a honeypot ant. Also her markings look like a sticky honey.Her proboscis is shaped like a butterfly,a mandible and a stripes like a bee. I really hate her OG design when she’s revealed,why did she choose the worse combination species???

I make her more accurate party girl vibes bc my Mom always goes out with a fancy dress and make up a lot when I was young and made her bracelet look like a bee hive. Make her based off the muse from Hercules Disney movie and Regina George personality from Mean girls or G1 Cleo from monster high.Also added some tiny crown because it shows that she’s loyalty.Why Viv makes so many skinny people when she is fat herself?Orange represents her Gluttony because Gluttony is orange.The lava lamp honey hair mow hawk and tail confused me when I looked at it also why fennec fox?? Also the choker is a yikes.Also those weird V symbols on her head is weird.