#*spins gun seductively*

[moineauz]

may i request a ticket for mosaic the memento with boothill?

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐���𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆ノ𝐌��𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 — boothill !

synopsis: lovers that collect each other, piece by piece and display it in peculiar ways.

side comments: tysm for requesting!! I definitely had fun with this and boothill in general. I took the concept quite literally hehe.

extra: gn reader, angst & fluff, mentions of marriage, established relationship word count: 1, 184

When eyesight failed, you turned to the wind's caress, the hum of incessant chatter, and the mechanical click of Boothill's shoes like a heartbeat made of flesh and bone.

Penacony thrived and bounced with promise and prose that night, as it has every night; brimming with the convivial spirit of a cocktail. While morphing desire into the tangible.

Nevertheless, Penacony is a pest: a jewel sowing songs of seduction, Time spent in Penacony rots the living flesh.

"You're thinkin' too much again."

Languidly, you turn your head towards the man leaning against the door frame. His limbs slacken as a tender grin pressed onto his face. It was as beckoning as a blast of dust and powder. A soothing grace found in jagged cliffs.

"It's Penacony," you begin scrupulously, "It's difficult not to think of-"

A small nail bolt hits the ground, a ring reverberating throughout your hotel room: a sour psalm. Your eyes observe the nail as it spins toward the tip of your boot; halting it in its path.

Boothill scrutinizes your eyebrows and how they crease, your placid countenance replaced by blunt displeasure. You cast a faint sigh, rolling your wrists until you discerned a click. A practice Boothill has inscribed into your skin it seemed. To Boothill, your faint, pervasive sighs are like wisps of smoke billowing in feeble puffs. It is the kind that Boothill could keep within the biting palms of his hands like a cloud of mist rolling over a slumbering horizon.

"Boothill," you chide askance, the nail now tightly wrapped under the guileful length of your fingers, "You're falling apart, again."

Boothill emits a delicate laugh; carrying through the thick atmosphere of your hotel room like fog being pushed to the side. "Oh? It's Nothin' to worry bout'," he exclaims, his grin acute and unrelenting like a child.

You scoff, your face solemn. "You're a fool then."

Boohill raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "A fool?" he begins with a tone of toying inquisition, "And what kind of fool would I be then?"

"The kind that never listens," you seethed as you turned your back and rummaged through your satchel. The click and ring of colliding components rebound from the disquieting walls. "Tell me, is it that difficult to keep your gun down?"

Instead, Boothill's legs carry him to the side of your bed; hoisting himself up before lying down on his back, his right hand gingerly tapping against the plating of his chest. One beat after another, one rise of your chest like sundown, one click before the drop.

The room grows reticent as does Boothill's incessant chatter. You considered him like a fly; one swat never ceased his lingering. His buzz and wagers compelled you to an ineffable cusp of undoing. He tugged at your hair, sauntered over your plans and tenderly pressed his treasured gun against your skull like a prayer of undying fidelity: the kind that reaches from the mounds of soil, dust and dirt. A skeleton crawling on the face of the Earth.

However, you kept the bones of that same serrated skeleton in your coat pockets. When the night yielded its youth, you traced your glided hands over its ridges like one recites verses in a destitute, ceaseless pursuit for solace. You hauled the bones of your dead on your back, straggling through sand dunes and sun. Thus, you ensured the bones would never corrode or break. For safekeeping, you thought.

"It always surprises me," professed Boothill, his body still limp on your bed, "That you carry every part of me in that damn satchel of yours."

He then scoffs, amused, "It's ridiculous."

A subtle, witty smile unwinds on your lips before you exasperate, "Well, I find it more ridiculous that a full-grown man needs his spouse to cover his boo-boos."

"Ha!" exclaims Boothill, a smirk unveiling itself, "And what's so wrong bout' that?"

You simply hum at this question, still absorbed by the sensations of various metal pieces grazing against your skin. "Boothill," you betokened "Which wire is thinner? The one on the right or the one on the left?"

Boothill promptly glances at the side table, "The one on the right."

You reach for the wire on the right, no inkling of doubt smearing the page of your chest.

Boothill never pressed his knee down or slipped a circular piece of metal on your finger.

On the contrary, you professed your devotion while uncoiling the vast forests of his wires found in his spinal cord and replacing the plating of his shins. Like a doll being unwinded: its button eyes stitched concurrently to become whole.

Boothill pondered the concept of marriage and discerned it to be ludicrous. However, there was a peculiar charm found in the title "My spouse" like windchimes that crash and sway, casting their dreams into an afternoon breeze.

He reminisced how you ripped his chest open and raised his metal heart in the plane of your hands like an offering. He entrusted you.

You dismantled him with each screw and wire; rerouting and disconnecting nerve after nerve, daring not to draw a breath in fear of failure. His entire being rested upon the pull and press of your fingers and the thrust of your arms. Boothill observed beads of sweat trickling down your forehead and the tentative purses of your lips. He could recount the strands of hair that brushed against your cheek and the bitter pit of envy and spite that grew in him like a weed. The wind could stroke your cheek and the Earth could wrap you fold upon fold until you became the foundations of life itself. Nevertheless, Boothill comprehended how insatiable he was. He envied how the folds of death seemed to embrace you closer than he could ever offer you.

The vibrations of your proposal still ring in his head and run up his spine with the zeal of electricity and the parting words of tenderness. Thus, how could he ever say no?

"I'm almost done with your leg," you muse, your eyes bouncing from Boothill's reposed face and the length of his leg.

"Why'd you ask to become my spouse, ( Name )?"

You blink, the movements of your hands paused while the clock continues to cast its familiar tick-tok. "Don't call me that," you remarked indifferently, your hands promptly resuming their work.

"Then what do I call you?" drawls Boothill, his eyes fixated on the tenacious shifts of your expression.

You emit a half-amused scoff before avowing, "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

"Alright then," teases Boothill, "We can play it that way." He pauses, then prompts, "Why'd you ask to become my spouse, doll?"

With that simple phrase, you gingerly place your tools down and lean forward. The poignant warmth of your breath skimming over Boothill's smooth cheek. A blinding smile tugs at the corners of your lips and the placid facade carved in your face broke with brilliance like the yolk of an egg. The corners of Boothill's eyes pooled with awe.

"Because I was tired of carrying pieces of you in my pockets."

general masterlist. request page for event.

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 6 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - As chaos begins to stir, (Y/n) starts to notice Art sharing an odd connection with her.

Notes - Still following the events of Terrifier 3 with minor insight of (Y/n)’s background/childhood 👀

Word Count - 3,803

Warning(s) - Canon-typical violence/gore, minor trauma/flashbacks

Song Inspiration -

The Pretty Wild - Sleepwalker

ZAND - I Spit On Your Grave

Cinema Strange - En Hiver

Art motioned for the Santa to undress, gun still threateningly pointed at him. 

(Y/n) swallowed another shot, having grabbed another bottle from behind the bar. Her head began to spin, though not drastically as she teetered a thin line between buzzed and drunk. 

She turned and made her way over to the two men, chuckling to herself as the older of the two began to strip. 

“Make it sexy for us, Santa. Give us a show.” She pressed back against Art, swaying her hips tauntingly to encourage the phony. Art’s face contorted into pleasant surprise, tilting his head around to watch (Y/n)’s playfully seductive movements and placing his free hand on her hip. 

He looked back up when her motions stopped, the two of them breaking out into laughter as the man in front of them tried his best to do what she asked. She held onto the clown for support, wheezing and hunched over, holding onto her stomach while Art slapped at her back in his own fit. 

They wiped away their tears, eyes drifting to the red suit and boots that now sat in a pile on the floor. (Y/n) cleared her throat and looked over at Art. “I needed that.” She sighed and he nodded in agreement. 

Art then pointed to a chair sat at one of the few small tables, then pointed to a platform where the Christmas tree and snowman sat. (Y/n) winked, moving to grab the chair. She heard the now stripped Santa begin to shout desperately as she dragged the piece of furniture over, lifting it and setting it down center-stage. 

Seconds later, the man was aggressively pushed into it, nearly tumbling backwards. Art passed the gun to (Y/n), moving to his bag while the latter lazily pointed it in the man’s direction with a bored expression. 

“Y’know, I really expected more of a fight out of you. A little disappointed.” (Y/n) voiced as Art returned with a few lines of rope, beginning to tie down the man’s limbs to the chair. 

The clown looked back at her as he did, nodding in agreement with a pout. 

“That’s okay though, we’ll make up for it, won’t we?” Art looked up at their poor victim with a sickening smile, unnerving him to the bone. 

He then stepped back, revealing his work with a flair to the nearly drunk woman who applauded him. He motioned for her to hand over the gun back to him and she obeyed, stepping away to collect the discarded Santa outfit and setting the articles of clothing on a nearby pool table. 

As Art pulled off his second shoe, he suddenly smacked it across Santa’s face, laughing to himself when he grunted and walked over to where (Y/n) stood. He stopped in front of her, waddling a turn to face his back towards her.

She reached up and unzipped his suit, watching as he slid it off of his slim figure and tossing it into her arms to which she grumbled at him before folding it and setting it on the table. She did the same with the rest of his accessories, mindful and delicate with them as he began to dress himself in the new red attire. She adjusted and buckled his belt, fiddling with the clothing until they deemed it satisfactory. 

“Something’s missing.” (Y/n) mumbled as she scanned over his figure. Art looked around, spotting the mask that still hung on the restroom door and grinned down at her. He made his way over with a pep in his step, snatching it off of the hook and bringing it back to the table. 

He pulled off the wig from it, taking off the Santa hat on his head and replacing it with the artificial hair. 

“Yes!” (Y/n) gasped, grabbing the hat again and placing it on the clown. She stepped back, eyeing him up and down as her stomach began to flutter. “Clowny Claus, indeed.” She hummed and bit her lip. 

Art wagged a finger at her, telling her not to get ahead of herself and jabbed a thumb at the man behind him, struggling against his restraints. 

“Fine.” (Y/n) pouted and crossed her arms. Art winked at her before fluffing his hair delicately, slowly turning around to reveal himself to the bearded man. 

“Oh - y - you look good, Clowny…” The man choked out. “You look good.” Art blew him a kiss at the compliment and waved him off. “Oh yeah, it’s never looked better…” 

The clown bounced over to his bag placed on the pool table, (Y/n) sitting on top of it and watching as he rummaged through. 

“Look, I’ll go now, then. You know, you’re - you’re Santa Claus, right? So I can go.” The man continued. Art looked up at (Y/n) and stuck out his tongue with a roll of his eyes, making her giggle and kick her feet. He looked back at the man with a sarcastic grin, going back to rummaging. The man began to sob, crying for help as (Y/n) simply watched him casually. 

Her eyes then dragged down to the bag, catching the tank as Art slowly pulled it out. He cradled it in his arms, turning around to face the man once more with a devilish grin. 

“Oh - Clowny!” He cried out as Art stepped closer to him to stand at his side. 

He flipped up the nozzle to his shoulder, waving his hand across the tank as a presentation, panic filling the man’s eyes. 

“What the hell is that?” His voice shook. 

Art just held his smile and took the nozzle in hand, flipping it back down and hooking a strap attached to it over his shoulder. 

“Oh god, oh god… Clowny… Clowny, look at me.” He panted. Art’s smile dropped, slowly blinking with downturned lips as he listened to the man with boredom. “Clowny, I’m not really Santa Claus.” He confessed and (Y/n) slid off of the table, moving closer and snapping a photo of his desperate expression. 

Art lifted the nozzle and dramatically pointed it at the man with a threatening smile. 

“No, no, wait! Listen to me -“ He rushed. “I have a name.” (Y/n) clicked her tongue and crossed her arms, both her and Art leaning onto one leg impatiently. “I have a real - no - I have a real name!” 

Art nodded sarcastically, mouthing a yeah and motioned to him as he looked at (Y/n) to say look at this guy. 

“My - my name is Charles Johnson -“ Art propped a leg up on the stage, aiming the nozzle as the man again. “- Clowny, and I have a wife, a wife! I have a wife and two kids!” 

“Aw, he’s a family man.” (Y/n) taunted sweetly and took a step forward, expression and voice hardening as Art grinned and chuckled. “A family man at a bar late at night with two women on his lap while the wife stays at home and takes care of everything.” She looked over at Art who gagged, then back at the man. “Right?”  

“No, no -“ Art jerked the nozzle to point down at his leg and watched as the man gargled on his own words in fear, shaking his head vigorously in denial. “No, it’s not like that! Clowny, listen to me! Clowny, I beg you! Listen, I have four gorgeous grandchildren! And their names - their names are Brian and Denise and -“ 

Art suddenly toggled the release, liquid nitrogen spewing at the man’s body as he screamed and shook at the rapidly freezing sensation while the clown wagged his head with laughter. 

As before, the supply was cut off and it came to a stop, the nozzle lifted up towards the ceiling. Art turned joyfully back towards the table to set down the tank, grabbing something from his bag. As he did so, (Y/n) glared into the man’s eyes. “I have no problem with a family man.” She commented. 

Art lifted a brick hammer, waving it teasingly for the man to see. He then lunged forward, ramming the hammer into one of his shins over and over as it crumbled to gory pieces just as it had with the rat. The man’s voice cracked as he screamed, thrashing around in the chair.

The clown came to a halt, pointing at the man and laughing. However, (Y/n) didn’t share the same joy, still holding the same darkened expression as anger quickly began to simmer and grow to a boil. “What I do have a problem with is someone who suddenly gives a shit about their family when their own ass is on the line.” 

“No, no, no, that’s not - that’s not -“ The man warily eyed Art as he stepped around to his side.  

“I think it’s only fair.” (Y/n) told the squirming victim flatly with little to no sympathy, hands folded in front of her. Art gave him a mischievous nod, the hammer beating against his hand next. “It’s not like things will be any different for them. Seems like you’re pretty absent, as it is.” She continued to talk through his torment. 

Art stepped back to the table to retrieve the tank once more, rocking it in his arms in a small dance as he made his way back over to them. 

With the nozzle aimed directly in his face, Art gave him a small wave while (Y/n)’s head tilted.

In a final scream, he was met with a face full of the substance, immediately frozen as it made contact. Art dragged it out longer than the last, prompting (Y/n) to look around the rest of the room curiously, taking in the smaller details she never noticed before. 

Once finished, Art set down the tank beside him with a wide grin, then it dropped as he placed his hands on his hips and examined the mess in front of them. With an idea, he held a finger up and pulled the hammer from his belt excitedly, readying it for a third time before smashing in the man’s face. 

He released whatever scream he could manage, but it was useless. 

When satisfied, Art gave it a thumbs up and he and (Y/n) shared a look, the latter shrugging. Art then reached out and peeled the man’s beard from his face, holding it up to his own and tilting side to side happily, mouthing a ho ho ho. 

“Now, you’re a real Santa.” The woman chuckled and he nodded, folding the skin in half when he caught sight of the snowman beside the chair. 

He pointed at (Y/n) with an idea, reaching out and plucking the carrot nose from the decoration before shoving it into the caved-in head in front of them. Somehow, the man still muffled a scream and (Y/n)’s eyebrows rose, impressed. 

With this in mind, she looked down at his other, undamaged shin, countenance unreadable with her arms crossed as they stood in silence. 

Art jumped in surprise when she snatched the hammer from his belt, watching in dramatized bewilderment as she beat in the man’s good leg, hearing him gargle out blood from above her as her own frustrations scratched at her throat. 

(Y/n) huffed, giving the carrot nose a good hammer-in before turning and tossing the hammer onto the table as Art watched her with genuine shock. 

She dragged her feet over to the women’s restroom, eyeing her reflection in the mirror as she turned on the faucet. She cupped her hands, filling them with cold water before splashing her face and cleaning the blood off of herself as she sighed into the sink. (Y/n) looked up at herself, glaring as water dripped off of her chin and nose. 

She turned and grabbed a few paper towels, patting her face dry before swinging the door open and walking out. Art had just finished stuffing his own suit into the bag with a focused expression, straightening up when he saw her and waved with a bright smile, beard now adorning his face. 

(Y/n) offered a half-assed smile in return and he frowned, watching as she prepared her camera to start taking photos of the mutilated body. 

Snap.

Two voices yelled at each other in the middle of the kitchen, hands flailing towards the little girl sitting innocently on a chair at the table. 

She took a deep breath, attempting to shake off her thoughts.

Snap.

“Where’s Dad?” A small voice asked as she was carried to her bedroom. 

“Dad’s working late. He won’t be home for a while, sweetheart.” Her mother tried to soothe.

Her heart picked up its pace, hands beginning to tremble as she looked at the man through her lens. 

Snap.

The little girl peeked out from her bedroom door as she watched her mother crying at the dinner table. 

She looked at the sliding glass door behind her, spotting the reflection of a monochromatic clown.

(Y/n) gasped and whipped around to face Art, breath shaky as he stared at her with his signature grin, though it didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Were you just -?” She whispered, dumbfounded. He stepped forward, grasping her jaw delicately and raising his eyebrows at her. 

She couldn’t move, staring as he held her gaze with great intensity and her head began to tickle. Her thoughts slowed, coaxing her into a more calm state of mind, focusing on the clown in front of her. Sobering up, she felt disappointed when Art pulled away and blew her a kiss, following him with keen eyes as he moved to pick up his bag. 

He stretched out his free arm towards her, opening and closing his hand in a silent ask as if nothing happened. (Y/n) stayed where she was for a moment, dumbfounded and eyeing him, then sighed and walked over to him, slipping her hand into his much larger one and following him out of the bar. 

“How did you do that?” (Y/n) questioned quietly as they walked. 

Art shrugged in reply, tossing her a mischievous grin before looking forward once more. 

“Okay, well how long have you been doing that?”  She looked up at him, vulnerable. 

He looked down at her, eyes darkening in a silent warning.

(Y/n) felt a chill run down her spine and she looked down with a melancholic expression. She felt Art squeeze her hand a few times, pulling her closer. She sighed and nuzzled into the warm fabric of his new suit, the cold snowfall beginning to seep into her clothes. He moved to hook their arms, bringing her into him as they turned into a middle-class neighborhood, Christmas lights and decorations adorning a few houses they passed.  

They came upon one of the more extravagant houses, gutters lit the same as others with their colorful lights, but also the trimmed trees on the lot as well as the walkways and edges of the lawn. 

The two of them looked at each other and Art bore an excited grin, raising his eyebrows before nodding towards the house. (Y/n) simply nodded, eager to get inside of the warm abode as she began to shiver. Art placed his hand on her back, urging the two of them to head to the front door. 

As the clown went to test the knob, the door pushed open slightly and he paused, tucking in his chin with a jerk with lips downturned in surprise. He looked over at (Y/n) and shrugged, quietly pushing the door open for both of them to step through and locked the door shut. 

Their footsteps sounded thunderous in the silence, wandering further into the cozy home with an equally decorated interior. Art gently sat down his oversized bag by their Christmas tree, digging through and pulling out a spare one that was crumpled up and handing it to (Y/n). He pointed to the wrapped presents around the base of the tree, then to the bag and she nodded. 

Carefully, she peeled open the bag and began picking out the ones that weren’t particularly large, trying to fit as many as possible. 

“Go away!” They faintly heard a boy whine from upstairs, pausing their movements and glancing at each other. 

Art’s neutral set face turned mischievous, (Y/n) spotting a dull glimmer out of the corner of her eyes. He slowly rose to his full height, tediously pulling out a long-handled ax from his bag. He then winked at her and turned towards the staircase by the front door, taking his time as he made his way upstairs. 

She casually went back to filling her own bag as his steps faded. “Juliet, I told you to stay out of my -“ The boy’s voice was abruptly cut off, the following sounds of wet squelching simply background noise as she loosely knotted her bag closed and sat on the couch. The house grew silent once more, then there were the creaking footsteps of Art upstairs. 

(Y/n) stilled, eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment. 

Shortly after, the sounds of more squelching returned and she nodded, her shoulders relaxing. She swung her legs up onto the couch to lay across it, throwing an arm over her eyes. 

The noise that would typically disgust any normal human being was comforting in that moment. It reminded her that Art was still there with her as it became white noise, accompanied by the winter wind outside whistling against the windows as both nearly lulled her to sleep. 

Nearly. 

A woman screaming jolted her out of her relaxed state, sighing and crossing her arms in front of her as she stared up at the ceiling as she heard a door slam. 

“Timmy, Juliet, run!” The woman screamed, followed by the sound of wood being broken in. 

Multiple pairs of feet stomped around, then there was a pause. Then another scream. It seemed to grow louder and the same footsteps plundered down the stairs.  

“Somebody fucking help me!” The woman shrieked and (Y/n) watched lazily from the couch as she rammed herself into the door, struggling to unlock it as Art closed in on her. “Oh fuck, help me!”

Looking away when he raised his ax, she turned onto her side and folded her arm beneath her head. She closed her eyes once more when the woman’s screaming seemed to die down, Art having finally gotten to her. 

Not a minute later, she heard another scream and (Y/n) sat up, curling up on the couch in an upright position as she watched Art, but was careful not to look at the bloodied woman as he swung at her a second time. 

Hesitantly, (Y/n) inched her gaze towards her as she trudged into the living room, coughing up blood. The woman fell to her knees, finally noticing the stranger sitting comfortably on her couch as if it was her own home, watching the scene unfold with a bored expression. 

As the woman was distracted, Art crept up behind her, the former whimpering when she caught sight of an ax head readying itself over her shoulder. It quickly turned into screaming as Art swung at her arm. (Y/n) looked away once more, eyes closed as she rested her head against her arm that was propped up against the cushions.  

After a few minutes of him hacking and smashing, she felt him tap her shoulder and she lifted her head to look at him. He pointed at the bag she filled and gave a thumbs up in question. 

“Yeah, it’s done.” (Y/n) stretched before standing and eyeing his suit, giving in to temptation and wrapping her arms around him. 

Art pointed at a bloodied spot on his suit and sliced his hand at his throat while shaking his head. 

Her voice was muffled by the fabric, face buried in his chest. “I don’t care, we have five years of making up to do. I’ll just shower while we’re here.” 

She felt Art shrug and his fingertips tickled her back as he caressed it, ax still in his other hand. When she let go, he rubbed his hand over his stomach with a pout. 

“Well, let’s check the kitchen. I’m sure they have something.” 

The two of them wandered into the said room, the clown setting down his ax on the island countertop. His face showed excited surprise, rubbing his hands together and grinning when he spotted a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. He sat down on one of the barstools in front of it, kicking his feet up on the other and leaning back as he delicately took a cookie and broke it. 

(Y/n) watched as he dipped it in the milk, bringing it up to his mouth and biting off a large chunk of it. She giggled when he shimmied his shoulders, body shaking delightfully with a smile of glee. “That good, huh?” 

Art nodded at her with closed eyes, dipping the second bite in the milk again, (Y/n) walking over and kissing his cheek.

“I’m gonna go find the laundry room for your other suit.” He gave her a thumbs up and her hand brushed down his arm as she passed him back to the living room. She dug through his bag and pulled out his black and white ensemble, making her way upstairs and opening and closing a few different doors before reaching the master bedroom. 

Mindful of the blood and tissue, (Y/n) stepped over the mess and opened the closet door, wandering inside curiously. She eyed the different clothes, pondering between a few before she decided on a longer, soft cardigan and took it from the hanger to hang it over her shoulder.

Making her way back downstairs, she looked behind a few more doors before smiling to herself when she spotted a washer and dryer, cabinets hung above them. She opened the washer and looked through the cabinets, pulling out detergent pods and putting a couple of them in the small load. 

She stripped down, goosebumps rising on her skin as her now bare feet stepped on the cold tile. She quickly slipped on the cardigan, throwing the clothes in the washer and starting the cycle, filling the room with a low hum. 

She then suddenly heard a girl scream. “Huh?” She wondered out loud incredulously and wandered through the house back to the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway just as Art swung his ax at a little girl on the floor, raising a single brow in confusion. 

Art stopped and looked at her, face sharing the same confused expression as he pointed at her new outfit. 

(Y/n), in turn, pointed at the dismembered girl. 

Tag List: @hoe-for-daddywise @callsignwidow

[flowerxbunnie]

OK BESTIE LISTEN

i heard “roses are red, watches are gold. get on your knees and do as you’re told.” I NEED IT IN A MATT FIC PLEASEEEEEE

okok so maybe matt really reallyyyy wants to spend money on a pretty girl. you sign up on a sugar baby website for that coin, and y’all start talkingggg. he flies you out and books a hotel 👀 there’s a red dress and like a gold and diamond watch on the bed and rose petals and wine, w that on a note. and he gives you a time and place to meet him for dinner and is giving you the eyes alllll night. and yk the resttttt

Sugar Daddy

Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, fluffy ending

@lustfulslxt

DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come with you and spy from another table? I’m terrified you’re gonna get your head chopped off with an axe,” Jaycee says while lint rolling my dress.

“Girl I promise I’ll be fine. Most of the time these guys can’t even walk without a cane, let alone chase me down with an axe,” I laugh, checking myself in the mirror again. “Plus I’ll have my location on. One bad vibe and I promise I’ll let you know.”

I smile and hug my best friend, pulling away and spinning around to show her the back of the dress.

“How do I look? Think I’ll get a big payout tonight?” I say while raising an eyebrow in a jokingly seductive way.

“Honey I KNOW his wallet is gonna be screaming and crying at him after you’re done with him. Do you have to… you know…?” She does a ring shape with one hand and pokes her finger in and out.

“Fuck him?” I laugh, swatting her hands down. “It just depends. A lot of these guys just want a pretty girl to keep them company. Like some of them I literally just eat dinner with and that’s it. But if they want little something extra and I’m feeling up for it, why not?”

“What does he look like?” she questions.

I shrug before quickly trying to explain it the easiest way I can after I see the worried look on her face.

“So first of all, this sugar daddy app is referral only, so it’s definitely safe. He has to have been referred by another sugar baby, passed a background check, proven he can pay out, submitted a photo of himself to the owner of the app, all that jazz. But it’s kinda like a blind date.. on my end? Like he knows what I look like but not my name.. but I’ve never seen him… I know the first letter of his name… Anyway I don’t know why exactly it’s a thing, but it was created by former sugar babies and I think it’ll be cool to give it a shot!” I spew all this information at her as she stares at me just blinking.

“Oh…okayyy…” she trails off before adding “Please please be safe, Y/n. You know I’m just a phone call away!” She kisses my cheek and walks back to her room.

I pull out my phone and open my messages with M.

-Onyx hotel at 6pm. Reservation will be under the name Adam Smith. They’ll get you in no problem.

Adam Smith causes me to raise an eyebrow, but I order an Uber and sit around for for a while before looking in my full length mirror again, smoothing out my black dress and fluffing my hair. I spray a vanilla scented perfume onto the pulse points of my neck and grab my bag. I dig through it and make sure I still have my pepper spray and stun gun. I know I’ll be fine, the app is super well rated and trustworthy, but you never know what some of these dudes will try.

•••

The Uber pulls up to the door of a massive hotel. I’m no architect but it looks like the doorway is carved from marble. I step out of my Uber and thank my driver before making my way into the doors of the Onyx, a door greeter offering to show me to the desk.

“Hi, I have a room booked under the name Adam Smith.” I smile as the lady behind the desk types into her computer to pull up the file.

“Got it right here sweetie.” She reaches under the desk to get the room key and slides it across the counter to me. “All the way to the top floor, make a right and it’s the door at the end of the hall. Have fun with Mr. Smith,” she adds in at the end, and I swear I can see a smirk on her face.

I make my way to the elevator, now flustered, and press the button for the top floor, my heart beginning to beat a little harder as I realize I’ll be meeting M face to face in a few short moments. Before I can think too hard, the elevator doors slide open. I step out and make my way to the end of the hall, my heels clicking with each step and echoing off the walls. I pull out the room key and take a deep breath before sliding the card into the reader and watching it blink green.

“Don’t fuck this up, Y/n. You need this money.” I think to myself.

I push the door open and I’m met with the scent of champagne and sweet roses. It smells like luxury.

“Hello, M?” I ask, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I’m met with a still silence. I put my bag down by the door and survey the room. It’s massive, marble floors with intricate wallpaper donning the walls. There’s even an office area with a desk, notepads and various office supplies. I notice an open pen on the desk, but I’m honestly too scared to touch anything. It all looks fucking expensive. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see a message from M pop up on my lock screen.

-You make it in okay?

-Yes, where are you?

-Check the bed.

I make my way over to the queen size bed and gasp. I see a red satin dress laid out surrounded by rose petals. It’s gorgeous, way better than the dress I picked for myself tonight. There’s a note beside it, and when I pick it up I find a black velvet box that was strategically hidden underneath the paper. I unfold the note and read the smooth handwriting,

“Roses are red, watches are gold.

Get on your knees and do as you’re told.”

I immediately break out in a blush, smiling to myself just from seeing M’s words on the page. Guess I know what I’ll be getting myself into later. I read further down the note and I see something else scribbled out.

“I’ll be waiting, my lady in red.”

I pick up the black velvet box and open it, shocked once I’m met with a shining gold watch encrusted with diamonds around the face. I pick it up gently out of its cushioning and flip it over, an “M” carved into the gold underside of the watch. Fuck, that’s honestly hot. Marking me already? I slip it onto my wrist gently and fasten the clasp, the cold watch against my wrist giving me shivers but it fits perfectly.

I slip off my black dress and shimmy into the red one, smiling as it zips up and clings onto me like a glove. I feel like pure luxury right now, checking myself out in the mirror before I see my phone light up on the bed.

-Uber is outside. See you soon.

I swear this man is already driving me crazy. He ordered the nicest Uber I’ve ever been in and made sure I had a glass of champagne ready to be poured to sip on during the ride. We pull up to a restaurant I’ve never even heard of and my driver gets out to open my door for me. “Watch your step, sweetheart.”

I walk to the reservations counter and give them the same name I was told to give to the hotel, and I’m led to a table in the back of the restaurant. My heart is beating out of my chest at this point. This is the first blind date I’ve been on at all, let alone with a potential sugar daddy. What if he’s hideous or weird or creepy?

I’m pretty sure my eyes fell out and rolled onto the floor when I saw M. He’s a young, hot brunette with striking blue eyes that feel like they’re burning holes into my skin.

“Your waiter will be over shortly,” the hostess smiles and walks back the other way.

M stands up to pull my seat out for me, but not before grabbing my hand and placing a soft kiss onto the backside, making my heart skip a beat before I sit down and he pushes me closer to the table.

“Not what you were expecting, I’m guessing?” He questions, his eyes locked onto mine with a smug smile.

“No not at all. I mean, I’m not mad about it I just-” I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my nerves before speaking again. “Usually the men I meet are shriveled up and on their last leg. You seem so young to be doing this kind of thing.”

He laughs and nods. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“A lot? So you’ve been doing this for a while, then?” I question, grabbing the glass of water that was waiting on me and take a sip, my berry red lipstick leaving a mark on the rim.

“Not too long. Maybe six months?” He looks up in thought. “Yeah like six or seven.”

“What’s your real name, Mr. M?” I ask in a lower voice, playing up the mystery vibe.

“I’m Matthew… or just Matt. And yours, pretty lady?”

“Y/n. Pleasure to be getting to know you better, Matthew.”

•••

We drink and eat and talk for what feels like hours, getting to know the ins and outs of both of our experiences in the sugar daddy world. I learn that Matthew is an influencer who makes crazy money and doesn’t know what to spend it on. He explained to me that he’s always had a love for gift giving, and when the money started rolling in and he realized he could get any girl he wanted, it combined and spiraled into almost a fetish to spend money on beautiful women.

I surprisingly understand where he’s coming from and we talked about that for a good chunk of the night. I felt like I was kinda playing therapist in a way, helping him see the reasons for why he does these “taboo” things from a nonjudgmental perspective.

After we finish dinner and drinks he orders another Uber and walks me out, opening the door for me and placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me down to my seat. I scoot to the seat behind the driver and watch as Matt ducks down to take his seat and shuts the black car door. I click my seatbelt and look up to see him scooting closer to me and settling in the middle seat, flashing a smirk my way.

The ride back to the Onyx is filled with glasses of champagne and shared giggles while we listen to the Uber driver tell us the story of his life that we definitely didn’t ask for. Matt’s hand nonchalantly lands on my thigh at some point during a giggle fit and I swear I freeze, not out of fear but anticipation. His fingers trail to the inner part of my thigh while his thumb rests on top tracing back and forth, sending butterflies through my entire body. He just looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the driver and egging him on, asking stupid questions like, “So then what did you do once they threw your shit on the street??”

It’s all a blur, his hand wondering aimlessly up and down my thigh with no intention to venture under my dress just yet. His smooth skin catching and reflecting the lights of the city as we journey through traffic. I feel like I can’t really concentrate on the conversation and I barely speak. This man is gorgeous inside and out- it’s like I’ve known him for years. It’s weird and it’s making me so flustered, but thankfully we come to a stop outside the Onyx and I can release the breath I’ve been holding in.

Matt steps out and walks to the driver’s window, handing him an envelope and shaking his hand before stepping towards my door and holding his hand out for me. I grab onto it and I feel a weird feeling shoot across my body just from the simple feeling of his skin on mine. He doesn’t let go as we make our way though the doors and into the lobby. He shoots the lady at the front desk a wave and a smile before we turn the corner towards the elevators.

The ride to the top floor feels like it takes triple the amount time as it did when I did it alone. Matt moves to stand across from me with his back leaned against the wall, stealing glances occasionally. There’s a silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s filled with a tension so thick I can almost physically feel it. We exit as we reach our floor and he lets me lead the way.

“That dress fits you so perfectly, sweetheart,” he whispers as he trails behind me.

I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I chuckle and try to keep the blush from spreading across my cheeks. We reach the door to the room and I stop to dig through my purse for the key, but before I finish Matt reaches around me, his chest touching my back, and swipes his own key. His veiny hand turns the handle and pushes it open before we step inside. I sit my bag down on the desk and reach down to take off my heels before I’m interrupted by his deep voice.

“Let me take them off. Sit on the bed.”

“Oh, yes sir,” I say in a teasing voice, raising my eyebrows and walking over to the bed before settling on the edge.

He moves to stand in front of me and grabs my right ankle gently, running his hand up to my knee before placing my heel onto his belt. I watch as his fingers delicately trace the strap around my ankle and find the clasp, undoing it before slipping my heel off and tossing it to the side. He repeats the same actions on my left leg, but once this heel is removed he drops to his knees and props my leg onto his shoulder causing me to fall onto my back and gasp.

He reaches down to grab my other leg and props it onto his other shoulder. His eyes snap up to meet mine, a look of lust written all over his face. I can feel myself starting to throb, a puddle forming between my thighs as he tilts his head towards my inner thigh and brushes his stubble along the tender skin.

I usually don’t get this into the sex with the other men I meet. They’re almost all over the age of 50 with some kind of ailment and it’s just not my vibe. I need the money so I do it, and I won’t lie, I’ve ended up being shocked and enjoying it a couple of times. But Matt has barely even touched me and my body is craving him desperately.

He spreads my legs as his lips cover my thighs in wet kisses, trailing achingly close to my core as he pushes my dress up around my hips.

He looks down at my panties as if he’s an artist admiring his work, running his thumb along the fabric and feeling the arousal that had made itself visible. He meets my gaze and increases his pressure, tilting his head in awe as if he’s poking an animal in a cage. Soft whimpers start involuntarily leaving my lips, my hips rocking against him.

“Fuck, look at you already squirming for me.” He licks his lips and leans forward, flattening his tongue across the fabric causing me to moan and grip the sheets from the pressure and warmth.

He watches as I react and blinks slowly before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, biting at the hem and letting go roughly. The elastic stings my skin but he quickly places kisses along my skin to soothe it.

“F-fuck, Matthew.” I can’t help but roll my eyes back, going insane from all the teasing.

He uses his index finger to pull my panties to the side, letting out a deep groan when his eyes meet my dripping pussy. He wastes no time before burying his head between my legs, his tongue dancing up and down my core.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he almost whines as he comes up for a breath.

He continues lapping me up and I’m a mess underneath him, cursing, arching my back off the bed, gripping at the sheets, pulling his hair. Anything to release the tension building up in my body.

He pulls back, bringing his hand down and teasing my entrance with his middle finger before easing it in. I moan out as he curls up into my g spot, which prompts him to repeat the motion repeatedly. He brings his head back down to suck on my clit, making unbreaking eye contact.

A knot is twisting in my stomach at the sight of his blue eyes staring into mine, him working relentlessly to bring me to my peak. My legs begin to tighten around his head but he doesn’t fight it. He picks his pace up and begins humming deliciously into my pussy.

“Let me see that pretty face while you’re cumming on mine.” he says breathlessly dipping back down to flick his tongue across my clit.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and stare down at him, and his eyes look like they’re almost begging for me to release.

“M-Matt I’m gonna… fuck I’m gonna cum,” I whine before feeling the tension in my stomach snap and my orgasm flush through my body. I can see the smile in his eyes as he watches me come undone, making a mess of myself while crying out his name and clenching around his finger.

“Was that good, princess?” He asks, standing up and undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand while pushing his hair out of his face with the other.

“Best one I’ve had in a while,” I pant, trying to get my breathing back to normal.

He simply smiles and slips his button up off, tossing it beside the bed. He grabs both of my hands and pulls me into a sitting position then reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Let’s see how good those pretty little lips look around me, hm?”

I blush and reach for his belt, making eye contact as I undo it slowly and unbutton his pants. I see his jaw clenching as I take down the zipper and begin to tug at the waistband. My breath hitches as his dick springs up and brushes my face in the process. That same smug grin he keeps doing creeps onto his lips as he takes himself into his hand and pumps his cock steadily while looking down at me.

His free hand comes up to grab my jaw, his thumb parting my lips and teeth. He brushes the rough pad of his thumb across my tongue gently a few times before pushing it to the back of my throat, chuckling when I gag and pull away. He slides his head into my mouth and closes his eyes in pleasure.

I grip his base and pump with a twisting motion a few times before taking all I can of his length into my mouth. I begin to bob my head back and forth, stopping at the tip to swirl my tongue around his head every so often. His breathing gets heavier as I run my free hand up and down his abdomen, my nails leaving a trail of red marks in their wake.

He brings both hands into the lengths of my hair and twists it once around his hands before tugging my head back and thrusting himself further into the back of my throat.

“Look at you taking it so well, such a good girl for me,” he groans as he continues pumping in and out of my mouth.

He throws his head back and I can feel his dick twitching, so I pull back and hold my mouth open with my tongue out, ready to swallow his load.

“Ready to take it down your throat, hm? I have something else in mind, baby. Get on the bed.”

“Get me out of this thing first,” I beg, standing up with my back to him motioning to the zipper on my dress.

I feel his warm hands touch my hips and trail up my sides before brushing across my back and tugging the zipper down, pulling the straps off my shoulders and letting the dress hit the floor. I can feel his breath on my back as I feel the clasps of my bra coming undone slowly. I slip it off and toss my panties aside before crawling up the bed. I press my chest to the bed and arch my back as I feel the bed dipping beneath his weight. I feel his presence behind me before two hands come down to knead my ass and give it a light smack.

“It’s like you already knew how I wanted you,” he laughs and pulls my hips toward him.

“Lucky guess,” I giggle, my breath hitching soon after as I feel his hard dick sliding up and down my folds.

He slaps his tip against my entrance a couple times before pushing into me and sucking in a harsh breath.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he says as he bottoms out and holds for a few seconds.

I’m aching for movement so I wiggle my hips back and forth, feeling the fullness and how he feels against my walls. He grips onto my hips and squeezes, pulling out halfway before pushing all the way back in harshly.

He picks up his pace and the room is filled with moans and the sound of our skin slapping together. I can’t help but throw myself back into him, desperate to somehow have him deeper than what’s possible- it feels primal and animalistic. His sweat drips onto my back as he pants and keeps a steady rhythm, and the noises coming out of me are something I’ve never heard myself do before.

His thrusts get slower and slower, more unpredictable, before he pulls out and flips me onto my back, legs wide open for him.

“Touch yourself, baby. Let me watch.” he demands as he stays on his knees between my legs jerking himself.

I bring my hand down to my clit and rub small circles, watching as his eyes rake up and down my body. I bring my free hand up to my breast and pinch my nipple between my fingers, rolling and tugging gently.

His mouth hangs open and I watch the muscles in his arm contract as his grip tightens. I bring my finger up from my pussy to my mouth, tasting myself on my fingers and getting them wet before returning to my core, rubbing back and forth on my clit faster than before knowing I’m about to spill over the edge. I bite my lip to stifle my cries as my high crashes through my body, my head rushing and body tingling.

This must have been enough for Matt to break, and he watches intently as he spills his warm load onto my pussy, drips falling down onto the sheets underneath.

He falls down to lay beside me on the bed, both of us dizzy and dazed. I watch his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he catches his breath, not laying for too long before he gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth.

“Can I?” He asks, sitting between my legs and holding the rag out, a much more innocent look on his face than the last time he was in this position.

I giggle and nod, appreciating him wanting to help me clean up. This is such a different experience than any other one I’ve had in this line of work. It felt so much deeper and personal. I can’t let my mind play tricks on me, though. He’ll have another girl in this room before another week passes. I’m just another sugar baby he can get off to and forget about. I keep the smile on my face despite the way I’m feeling, knowing I need the money and I can’t screw this up by bringing up any sort of emotion.

He tosses the wash cloth into the bathroom trash before picking his shirt up from beside the bed and walking over to me.

“Uh, you can wear this.. if you want?” He says seeming unsure of himself.

“Oh, my original dress is in the drawer over there, that’ll probably look more normal than a big button up when I go back through the lobby,” I giggle and sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.

“I meant like.. if you wanted to stay a while? I don’t have anything comfier but I figured it’s better than a dress,” he trails off, shifting on his feet as he looks around the room.

Stay? I’ve never had any of these men clean me up before, let alone offer for me to stay.

“Y-yeah, sure. I mean, that sounds great! You don’t have anything else going on tonight?” I question, trying to gauge his reaction.

“No, nothing going on. I just..” he picks at the skin on his fingers before claiming a spot beside me on the bed and staring intently into my eyes.

“Did you feel it too? I’ve never felt that way with any of these hookups before. I feel like you get me. Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being a fucking idiot and reading too much into it. Let me get your check,” he says shaking his head and abruptly standing up.

I grab his hand and hop to my feet beside him, trying not to smile like a fool.

“No, no.. forget the check, Matt. I felt it too.”

He exhales a deep breath before gripping my face with both of his hands. “I want to get to know you properly, Y/n. I don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you.”

I press a kiss onto his lips and pull away smiling.

“Give me the damn shirt.”

[ratsoh-writes]

A long time S/O hits their resident bonefriend with the joke of "Are you seduced yet?" with no other context given.

Sans: his SO is wearing three day old pajamas, has their hair unbrushed and there’s a big Cheeto stain on their shirt. With hearts in his eyelights, sans goes “oh so seduced~”

Papyrus: “EVERY DAY IS A BATTLE BETWEEN MY SELF RESTRAINT AND YOUR SEDUCTIVE POWER MY DEAR SUCCUBUS DISGUISED AS A HUMAN DATEMATE! AND YOU ALWAYS WIN~” smooth papyrus. Now give your datemate a smooch

Star: he laughs and spins you around to pepper some kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders “ASK ME THAT AGAIN AFTER IM FINISHED WITH YOU AND WE’LL SEE~” he’s not the seduced one here right now~

Honey: “well we’re literally soulbonded nyehe” you ask him this like 10 times a day, and his answer is always the same. How could he not be seduced?? You’re his soulmate!

Red: given that you’re wearing sweats and a tshirt depicting a naked human skeleton shooting a machine gun, red snorts after looking you up and down. “Pff, take off tha’ shirt then we’ll talk doll~”

Edge: he likes this kind of teasing. With a purr edge picks up his SO making them wrap their legs around his waist so he can smooch them without having to lean down. “ALWAYS MY DEAR~ I CAN NEVER KEEP MY EYES OFF YOU~”

Mal: oh yea he’s seduced. He loves when you wear the collars he makes for you. With a purr, mal tugs on the collar forcing your head down so he can give you a rough smooch. “MMM~ HOW CAN I NOT WHEN YOU SPARKLE SO PRETTILY FOR ME BABE~”

Cash: “nyehehe sure, you’re the picture of seduction baby”. And despite you wearing a teenage mutant ninja turtle onesie and crocs over the feet, you know he meant every word

Oak: he’s staring off into space when you ask, so in order to catch his attention. You wave the sandwich in your hands in front of his face. “Huh? Oh yea you’re super cute babe. .. can I have a bite?”. You love this dumb-skull

Willow: he pats the kitchen counter, motioning for you to climb on and take a seat. That way he doesn’t have to lean down too much to give you a nuzzle. “YOU ALWAYS SEDUCE ME MY SWEET ADORABLE LITTLE HUMAN DATEMATE. YOU ARE THE LIGHT IN MY SOUL~”

[thatguywhodoesstuff]

A Fist Full Of J X Thad Incorrect Quotes

(Its been a while since I’ve done one of these, so here’s the sequel to these three posts)

———

(J and Thad are flirting with each other, yet again)

Uzi: And you two are sure you're not dating?

J: 100%.

Thad: Of course not! Why would you think that?

Uzi: (Sarcastically) I wonder why that possibility would even cross my mind, Thad. I fucking wonder.

———

(Playing Twister)

Lizzy: Right hand red.

(Thad tries to place his hand on a red space, only to end up on top of J)

Thad: (Blushing) Uh…

J: (Aggravated and blushing) You're doing this on purpose, aren't you!?

Lizzy: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice.

———

J: Come on, V. Nobody actually believes that Thad is in love with me.

V: (To everyone in the classroom) Raise your hand if you think that Thad is helplessly in love with J.

(Everyone, including the Teacher, raises their hand)

J: (Blushing) Thad, put your hand down.

———

J: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Thad: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

J: …You mean ring bearER, right?

Thad: (Eyes hollow) ...

J: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

———

J: Is something burning?

Thad: (Leaning seductively on the counter) Just my desire for you.

J: (Unimpressed) Thad, Uzi is literally on fire.

———

(J asks N for some relationship advice)

J: Can I tell him that he looks nice?

N: Sure.

J: Can I tell him I respect him?

N: Maybe, if he asks.

J: Should I show him an oil painting I made of us surrounded by our three cats and four dogs?

N: (Taken aback at this) …I’d save that for later.

———

Lizzy: (Teasingly) Ooh, somebody has a crush.

Thad: (He rolls his eyes) Pfft, I don’t have a crush on J I just think she’s cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about her.

(Later that night)

Thad: (Wide awake at 3 in the morning) Uh oh.

———

Thad: Did it hurt when you fell-

J: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

Thad: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

J: ...

Thad: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

———

Thad: How do I tell J that I want her to yell at me like she’s Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

———

Thad: I think I'm falling for you.

J: (Blankly) Then get up.

———

J: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Uzi: (Not even looking up from what she’s doing) Did Thad say 'I love you' and you said 'Thanks'?

J: (Blushing) THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

———

Thad: I have a lie detector in my shirt.

J: …What? Weirdo. Take it off, then.

Lizzy: (Grinning) Why do you want him to take off his shirt?

J: (Blushing) WHAT- NO I DON’T…

(Thad’s chest starts beeping)

J: (Her blush deepens)

———

N: Who do we know that has handcuffs?

Thad: Well J and I-

J: (Elbows him and shakes her head)

Thad: ...wouldn't know.

———

(J has just managed to save Thad from a collapsing building)

Thad: (Getting up off the ground) Thanks, I owe you one.

J: (Brushing herself off) That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

———

Thad: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.

J: Hi, I’m ‘things’~

Thad: (Blushes profusely)

Uzi: (Rolls her eyes) Ugh…

———

J: Love is weakness and an evolutionary mistake.

V: (Unimpressed) You are literally making a Valentine’s day card for Thad.

J: (Pointing the hot glue gun towards V) You’re on thin fucking ice.

———

N: Why don’t you go talk to him?

J: (Sarcastically) Oh. Yeah, sure.

Uzi: What? So you go tell him he’s cute, what’s the worst that could happen?

J: He could hear me.

———

N: I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter “s”.

Uzi: (Dully looks over at J and Thad) Is it “sexual tension”?

———

Thad: But what about J? She was my SOULMATE!

Lizzy: (Exasperated) You said that about a football once!

———

N: So you’re dating Thad?

J: What? No! I’m just buying him an accessory since he has terrible fashion sense.

V: (Blankly) That’s literally a wedding ring.

———

[broidobe]

𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔡𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

requested by @rocketqueen1989x ! i am writing the other one you requested too!

☾a student struggles with their grades and attitude until their teacher, axl rose, offers a controversial form of "motivation," resulting in a tense, passionate encounter.☽

☾warnings: smut, teacher-student dynamic, swearing, power imbalance, THIS IS CONSENSUAL AND READER IS 18+ ☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

you sit in class, trying to focus on the lesson, but your mind keeps wandering. you've been struggling lately, and your grades have been slipping. you know you need to get your act together, but it's hard to care when everything seems so overwhelming.

as the class comes to a close, you start to pack up your things, ready to make a quick escape. but before you can make a move, axl rose, your teacher, speaks up. "you, stay behind," he says, his voice low and husky.

you feel a shiver run down your spine as you realize he's talking to you. you try to play it cool, but you can't help the flutter in your chest. you've had a crush on axl for what feels like forever, and now he's singling you out.

as the rest of the class files out, axl walks over to his desk and leans against it, his eyes fixed on you. "so, what's going on?" he asks, his voice firm but gentle. "your grades have been slipping, and i've noticed you've been having a bit of an attitude problem lately."

you feel a surge of defensiveness, but axl's calm demeanor puts you at ease. you try to explain, but he interrupts you, his voice taking on a slightly stern tone. "look, i know you're better than this. you're a smart kid, but you're not living up to your potential. and that attitude of yours? it's not going to get you very far."

you feel a spark of anger ignite within you, but before you can respond, axl continues. "but i think i know how to help you." his eyes seem to bore into your soul, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "you see, sometimes, people just need a little… motivation. a little push in the right direction."

he pushes off from the desk and takes a step closer to you, his eyes locked on yours. you can feel the tension between you building, and you know exactly what he's suggesting. you try to play it cool, but your heart is racing, and your pulse is pounding in your ears.

"are you sure that's a good idea, mr. rose?" you ask, trying to sound calm, but your voice comes out husky and unsure.

axl's smile is slow and seductive. "oh, i'm positive," he says, his voice low and husky. "you see, i've found that when people are struggling, sometimes they just need to… release a little tension. and i'm happy to help you with that."

he takes another step closer, his eyes burning with intensity. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, and you know you're in trouble. but you can't help the way you feel, and as he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, you know you're putty in his hands.

"let's get one thing straight," he says, his voice low and husky. "i'm not going to go easy on you just because you're struggling. but i am going to help you… in my own way."

he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "you're going to have to trust me," he whispers. "and you're going to have to do exactly as i say."

you feel a surge of excitement mixed with a little fear, but as you look into his eyes, you know you're ready to take the leap. you nod, barely able to speak, and axl's smile is all the encouragement you need.

as he pulls you into his arms, you know you're in for a wild ride. he spins you around, pushing you against the desk, and his hands move over your body, touching you in all the right places. he rips your shirt open, the buttons flying everywhere, and his lips crash down on yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

you feel a moan building in your throat as axl's hands move over your body, touching you in all the right places. he pushes your bra up, exposing your breasts, and his lips move down your neck, tracing a path of fire over your skin.

he spins you around, bending you over the desk, and his hands move to your pants, ripping them down your legs. you feel a rush of excitement as he exposes your ass, and his hands move over your skin, touching you in all the right places.

"let's get that attitude adjusted," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

you feel a surge of excitement as axl's fingers move over your pussy, touching you in all the right places. he pushes you down, his body pressing against yours, and you feel his erection straining against his pants.

he rips his pants open, his erection springing free, and you can't help but gasp at the sight of him. axl's eyes lock on yours, and he whispers, "i'm going to fuck that attitude right out of you."

and with that, he thrusts into you, his body moving against yours, and you feel a rush of pleasure. you're aware of nothing but the feeling of his body against yours, the sensation of his erection moving inside you.

he pounds into you, his body slamming against yours, and you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation. you're aware of nothing but the feeling of his body against yours, the sensation of his erection moving inside you.

as you cum, axl's lips crash down on yours, and you feel a rush of pleasure. you're aware of nothing but the feeling of his body against yours, the sensation of his erection moving inside you.

and as you collapse against him, exhausted, axl's smile is all the encouragement you need. you know you've been adjusted, and you can't help but wonder what other lessons axl has in store for you.

he pulls out of you, his erection still hard, and you feel a surge of excitement. he spins you around, pushing you against the wall, and his hands move over your body, touching you in all the right places.

"i'm not done with you yet," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin.

and with that, he thrusts into you again, his body moving against yours, and you feel a rush of pleasure. you're aware of nothing but the feeling of his body against yours, the sensation of his erection moving inside you.

you're trapped in a cycle of pleasure, unable to escape, and you know you're at axl's mercy. but you wouldn't have it any other way.

[sosa2imagines]

Right back at ya.

Warnings- Jealousy, gun violence, pole dancing.

The bass thumps through the club, vibrating the floor beneath your feet. You and Lloyd had been enjoying the night, drinks flowing and conversation easy. But a woman, all slinky dress and heavy perfume, had set her sights on Lloyd, and he, in a playful attempt to make you jealous, wasn't exactly discouraging her advances.

A smirk plays on your lips. You weren't threatened, not one bit. In fact, you were mildly amused. Taking a confident stride, you reach for Lloyd's half-finished scotch, downing it in one smooth gulp. “Someone needs a dance partner…” you declare, your voice husky from the drink. The woman looks at you with a scowl, you ignore her.

You go to the bathroom, you did manage to find a pair of scissors. Cutting your dress on each side, like slits.

Lloyd watches, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as you head towards the centre of the dance floor. The music shifts. The familiar pop beat washes over you, and you move with it.

‘Here we are, a careful distance Here's my heart, what's left of it In this town, I used to listen Once, Once, Yeah’

Your confidence takes centre stage. You glide across the floor, your body moving in perfect rhythm with the music. As the first verse plays, you execute a series of basic steps like grapevines, hip rolls, and isolations, showcasing your control and fluidity.

‘I had hope, blind faith Had as much as you can take’

The chorus hits, and you gracefully ascend the nearby pole, the smooth metal cool against your skin. Your movements become more sensual, your legs wrapping around the pole as you perform a slow spin, your eyes holding Lloyd's gaze with a playful intensity. Because of the cut, your thighs are on display.

‘Ashes burn the morning after Only know I'm here to stay I was so, I let you see me That was dumb, but that's OK Tripping down to your place What is love anyway’

You continue your ascent, showcasing your strength and agility by twirling around the pole gracefully, your body forming a perfect line against the pole. As you descend in a controlled slide, your eyes lock with Lloyd's, a silent challenge in their depths.

‘Who or whatever you do Don't let anyone love you Touch them where it hurts And then you'll leave’

The final chorus explodes, and you erupt into a flurry of impressive moves. You spin, you dip, you showcase intricate footwork around the pole, your confidence radiating outwards. The entire club is captivated, their gazes drawn to your captivating performance.

Lloyd, his earlier amusement fading, watches you with a mixture of awe and something akin to possessiveness. The other woman is forgotten, a mere afterthought in the face of your captivating display. He can't tear his eyes away, his gaze tracking your every move, a silent apology forming in his eyes.

‘I'm only gonna let you kill me once I'm only gonna let you kill me then some I'm only gonna let you kill me Once, Once, Once, yeah’

As the song reaches its climax, you descend from the pole, the crowd erupting in cheers and whistles. A line of guys gathers around you, mesmerized by your seductive performance.

Despite the numerous men surrounding you, you weren't scared. In fact you were waiting for the sound, that is sheer music to your ears.

As one of the guy, was about to approach you, the sound of gunshots suddenly cuts off the applause and cheering from the crowd. The guy who was about to approach you is startled and backs away, clearly scared. The sound of the shot causes a bit of chaos and commotion in the room, breaking up the previously euphoric atmosphere. And you smile.

Lloyd, was the one who fired the shot, silently threatening the guys, who were approaching you to stay away. In a silent but powerful display of his protection and jealousy, he ensures that no one can encroach on you or try to take you away. It was a subtle yet powerful display of his love and possessiveness.

You return to Lloyd, a playful smile on your lips. “Ready for a real dance partner?” you ask, extending your hand.

Lloyd takes it, his own smile sheepish. “Absolutely,” he says, his voice low with a hint of something more. The playful competition is over, replaced by a renewed appreciation for the woman who had just set the dance floor on fire.

His woman.

The night, once threatened by a bit of childish jealousy, now held the promise of something far more captivating.

TAGLIST- @imyourbratzdoll @nekoannie-chan @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @emerald-writes @winterslove1917

[mindyco]

Shit, it's almost 1AM, but this idea just crossed my mind and I kinda needed to write it. Totally not held at gun point ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊヮˋ )ଓ⁾⁾ Artwork credit: @myt_s3

Scenario: The brothers' reaction to kabedons!

As you attempt to kabedon Lucifer, he raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.

"Oh, trying to assert your dominance now, are you?" he teases, his voice low and enticing.

Before you can react, he swiftly spins you around, pinning you against the wall with a gentle force. His gaze intensifies, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and desire.

"But remember, I'm the one who always takes the lead," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as the air crackles with undeniable tension.

You make your move to kabedon Mammon, but he skillfully dodges with a playful smirk.

"Nice try, human, but you'll need more than that to catch me," he boasts, flexing his muscles.

Undeterred, you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, burying your face in his back. "You may be fast, Mammon, but you can't escape my affection!" you exclaim, your voice filled with playful determination.

He grumbles but can't hide the hint of a smile as he surrenders to your embrace, secretly enjoying the attention and the warmth of your touch.

As you move to kabedon Leviathan, his face turns a shade of red. "W-what are you doing?" he stammers, his voice a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

Instead of evading you, he tentatively leans in, his cheeks flushed. His hands hover uncertainly before hesitantly resting on your waist.

"I… I didn't expect this," he stammers, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and adoration. Slowly, a shy smile graces his lips, and you both sway gently, lost in the intimate moment.

Satan's eyes widen as you attempt to kabedon him, but he quickly catches your wrist, a mix of surprise and curiosity on his face.

"Well, well, what's gotten into you?" he asks, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

Instead of evading, he leans in closer, his lips hovering near your ear. "If you're trying to catch my attention, mission accomplished," he whispers, his voice tinged with a hint of seduction.

You feel your heart race as his touch sends electric sparks through your body. It may have started as a playful gesture, but the intensity of the moment leaves both of you craving more.

You move to kabedon Asmodeus, but he gracefully evades your grasp with a giggle, twirling around you.

"Oh, darling, you'll have to do better than that!" he exclaims, his voice filled with excitement.

Determined to win, you chase after him, playfully trying to capture his attention. Finally, you manage to corner him against a wall, your breath slightly uneven from the chase. With a mischievous smile, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"You're quite persistent, my love. I adore it," he purrs, his touch leaving a trail of warmth on your skin. The moment is filled with laughter and the promise of delightful mischief to come.

As you try to kabedon Beelzebub, he chuckles heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You're brave, but you'll need more than that to overpower me," he playfully taunts, flexing his formidable muscles. Undeterred, you wrap your arms around his bicep, leaning into his strength.

"I may not be able to overpower you physically, Beel, but being close to you is enough for me," you say sincerely, your voice filled with affection. His laughter subsides, replaced by a soft smile as he gazes down at you.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet and holding you securely against him. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the comforting beat of his heart. "You're my greatest joy," he whispers, his voice filled with unwavering devotion.

You attempt to kabedon Belphegor, but he effortlessly dodges with a yawn, seemingly uninterested.

"You'll have to try harder than that to catch my attention, human," he remarks lazily, stretching his arms.

Determined not to be discouraged, you pout and playfully wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his chest. "I don't need to try harder. I just need you to notice me," you say softly.

Belphegor's nonchalant facade cracks, revealing a faint smile. He drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he rests his head atop yours.

"Trust me, I notice you," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and a hint of vulnerability. The simple act of leaning against each other brings a sense of comfort and belonging.

～ 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Glory and gore go hand in hand part 2

Dark Fic!

Mob! Donnie x OC Ava Charles

Warnings: Violence, almost sexual assault, blood mention, fighting/fist fighting, Stockholm syndrome kind of, kidnapping, vomit mention, 

Summary: Loosely based on the film Red Eye. Ava thinks she’s found a way to escape after her failed seduction attempt, but the streets of New York can be more dangerous than she anticipated. 

A/N: Sorry it took me over 2 years to update it to a part 2. Hope it was worth the wait (It isn’t, trust me lol). If I ever get around to doing as part 3 there will be some NFSW stuff coming up, trust and believe. Much love to you all xox

The room was spinning. You took a quick glance at the clock next to the bed and saw “07:43″ before whatever was in your stomach threatened to come back up. Pulling the covers off your body you made a dash for the bathroom and puked up not much of anything. There was a throbbing inside your skull that you didn’t think would go away any time soon- a concussion, you guessed, was the cause of all of this.

Memories came back. Lips on yours, the warmth of a body pressed against you, sudden movement and then everything going dark. It was too much, you had to push that out of your mind. Picking yourself up from your knees in front of the toilet you made your way back to the bedroom. Donnie was waiting in there for you. He looked refreshed. He smelt like cologne and had clearly changed since you last saw him. You, on the other hand, had messy hair, clumps of sleep in your still tired eyes and your mouth tasted like bile. What a sight you must have been.

You climbed back into the bed without acknowledging him, he didn’t deserve it. The spinning had started to slow down and sitting still was the only thing stopping you from spilling your guts again.

“Good morning, sleepy head. I trust you slept well” There was mockery in his voice.

“Oh, like a log. Thanks to you” there was no hiding the resentment in your voice. You still weren’t looking at him but heard something get thrown on the bed. Looking over it was a single packaged croissant and a bottle of Gatorade- the blue one. Ugh. Begrudgingly you drank from the bottle and ate what he gave you. You hadn’t eaten since the afternoon the day before and it showed by the way you wolfed it down. Donatello watched you intently, much to your discomfort.

“Look, about last night...” you began

“You mean you pointing a gun at me and threatening to kill me? Is that what you’re talking about?”

So he wasn’t going to let it go. Shit. 

“Can you blame me?” you blurted out. Goddamn it, this guy really is holding you hostage, planning on killing your father (possibly you as well) and your one attempt to save your family is going to be taken as a personal slight against him? 

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“No, don’t suppose I can. I can still be angry about it, however.”

“Makes two of us” you muttered. That elicited a smile from him, clearly your self hatred was amusing.

In the morning light you got to have a proper look at the room. It was lovely. Cream walls with sage green accents, a vanity table next to the window and a huge wardrobe and set of drawers. Your head was still spinning and your stomach hadn’t quite settled, still promising to twist and contort to make you puke up what you’d just consumed. His cologne wasn’t helping. The dude smelt like a perfume section at a department store, no, the smell wasn’t intensifying, he’d just gotten closer.

Now sitting on the bed, Donatello placed a hand on your thigh a looked into your eyes. He didn’t speak straight away, as if he was waiting for something from you but you didn’t know what.

"What?” you said rather indignantly “Why are you staring at me?”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly into a smile, a devilish one at that.

“I think we need to set a few ground rules, to keep everyone happy. First rule, no making a scene. You involve anyone else in what’s going on, your dad dies. Rule number two, no leaving the hotel room. I think this one is pretty self explanatory. And rule number three is: you hold a gun to me again, I do worse than knock you out”

Who are these rules supposed to keep happy? You thought. They only protected him. But, he was looking at you expectantly.

“Sure, whatever” you muttered “Have your rules and then fucking kill me”

“Oh, I plan to. No be a darling and go clean yourself up. I can smell the vomit from here”

Embarrassed, pissed off and still, quite frankly, scared of this man you took yourself to the bathroom and had the longest shower of your life. Any way you didn’t have to be in the same room as him, looking at his smug fucking face.

________________________________________________

The day was much of the same, Donatello mostly took calls and conducted some kind of business online. You didn’t pay much attention, you didn’t really care. In your mind there was a countdown. 6 days. 6 days until his “employer” decided what to do with you and your father. 

By late evening you could hear your stomach growling, you didn’t want to go to the mini fridge in the living room because that’s where he was so you just suffered the hunger pangs and stayed in your room. Occasionally he would come to check on you. Sometimes he’d speak, most of the time he’d simply make sure you were still there. The final time he came in, he spoke again.

“I’m going to get dinner. What do you want?”

“Nothing” you sulked

He rolled his eyes and took a few more steps inside the room “you know you won’t starve to death in 24 hours, right? Might as well just take the free food”

“Fine. Something with Salmon”

At that he left. He left! The second you heard the door to the hall close, you were up and out of bed rushing to the handle but, it was locked. What the fuck kind of hotel locks you in your room? This made no sense. You knelt on the floor, an overwhelming feeling of despair creeping up through your body until it formed into tears. You were never leaving this room. You wondered how he’d do it- kill you, that is. Would it be quick? Painful? Who would find you? Would anyone ever find you? You weren’t sure how long you’d spent on the floor, forehead pressed against the door crying but that’s when you heard footsteps coming back towards the room. Fuck, surely he wasn’t back already? A knock at the door-

“Housekeeping, can I come in?”

Hope! You wiped away your tears and stood.

“Yes, yes come in! I’ve umm, I’ve lost my key. Can you let yourself in?”

The door gently opened and a middle aged, friendly faced woman stood there. Her name tag read “Sandy” and you’d never been happier to see someone in your life.

“Just here to change the sheets and such. Won’t be long, dear”

You grinned at her “Take all the time you need, I was just popping out, actually” with that you practically shoved past her and made your way, as quickly as your condition would allow, down the hall. Donatello would probably take the elevator so you took the stairs, looking over your shoulder at every little noise to make sure no one was behind you.Eventually you made it to the lobby, this would be the hard part. He could be back any second. All you had to do was make it out into the street, couldn’t risk using the lobby phone to call your father. From the door way, you scanned the lobby. Not many people, a queue of 2 lining up to be checked in, the clerk behind the desk and 3 people sat on a sofa in front of the fireplace drinking and talking. No Donatello. You took a deep breath and briskly walked towards the door.

The November air was unforgiving and in the rush of finding a way out you hadn’t brought your coat. You were freezing, had no idea where you were and no money. You didn’t think this through but at least you were out. Free! But apparently freedom meant risking hypothermia. You hustled down the street, unable to take in the beauty of the freshly fallen snow, or the gentle glow of the street lamps as you rushed under them. Maybe there was a coffee shop or somewhere you could ask to use their phone. Do you call the cops or your dad first? If you call your dad, he can call the cops, you supposed, and even if something happened, you’d get to hear his voice one last time. No! You pushed that thought out of your mind. You had to get to a phone.

Some little artisanal coffee shop stood on the corner, you rushed towards it trying to dart around the 3 men who stood in your path, that’s when you felt a hand gripping your arm. You spun around, partially from shock and partially from the hand pulling you towards them. It was the 3 men. They were big and broad and visibly drunk now that you got a closer look.

“sweetheart!” the one gripping your arm slurred out “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here in the cold? No jacket no nothing. Let me warm you up” He pulled you towards him. You tried to free your arm but his grip tightened.

You began to seize up, shivering out of fear as well as the cold. Suddenly the street looked emptier than you remembered, it was late, after all, and the terrible weather would keep most people in. 

“come on, give us a kiss” the second one said leaning towards you. You realised you hadn’t said a single word, it’s a if the fear had frozen your voice box. You put your free hand on the first guy’s chest and used all your strength to push him back, the alcohol made him not so nimble on his feet and he tilted slightly- loosening his grip just enough for you to free your arm and run. But you couldn’t run, not really. Every step you took made the stitches around your abdomen burn and cry out for you to stop. After two blocks, you had to stop running. 

you were ahead of them and they were drunk. There was a dimly lit ally to your left, maybe if you hid behind the dumpster there, they’d give up? It was worth a try.

Crouching, now, in your position behind a dumpster you tried to steady your breathing as much as you could. Footsteps approached and then voices.

“C’mon sweetheart!” One called out “We just wanna get you out the cold! I’ve got something nice and warm for you here” 

You shuddered shuddered at the thought but, before you could take another breath the third one jumped out at you.

“I got ‘er!” he screamed at the others, pulling you up from your crouch by the back of your shirt. 

They all cheered in unison and gathered around you. This was it. You traded one danger for another. They grabbed at you, trying to reach under your shirt, pawing at your body as you twisted and turned to try to escape but their grips on you were firmer this time.

“Not letting you get away again, little darl-”

Suddenly he was on the floor. There was blood on the snow around where his face lay and he was out cold. The other two let go of you and turned to face their aggressor, dropping you to the ground as they did.

You covered your face with your hands, you heard the second guy’s face collided with something hard, the dumpster was your guess. He gave out a pained cry as his skull was bashed into it again and again until you heard his body drop into the snow.

“L-look I don’t want no trouble” the third one said backing away. “It was just a little fun was all” You heard his squeal as whoever it was laid into him. It didn’t take long but he was begging and gasping for air before one final blow silenced him. You didn’t want to look, you couldn’t. Whoever this was surely had to be worse than what you’d faced already today. Your shoulders slumped and hot tears fell down your face as you hoped the cold would take you.

“You ready to go back?” A familiar voice asked you. 

Donatello.

You looked up, his face didn’t seem angry in fact, he looked almost concerned. The shadows that surrounded him made his look taller and bigger than ever. For once you were grateful to see him. He took a few more steps towards you, taking off his winter coat and draping it over your shoulders before reaching down to help you up. You don’t know if it was the cold or the shock or the adrenaline wearing off, but once you were on your feet, you wrapped your arms around his waist and sobbed into his chest. He held you back, learning down to press his face against your head.

“Come one, lets get you back into the warm” he said against your hair.

You nodded.

[nataliasquote]

Promises | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha and Anastasia didn’t know love… not until they found it in each other. But the Red Room was cold, in more ways than one

Warnings: Red Room, death, blood, shooting

Pairings: young!natasha x young!OC

wc: 2.6k

Notes: this one hurts but I’m proud of it. Another oldie again

- ⧗ -

30 pairs of pointe shoes became 20.

20 filled beds because 10.

10 black leotards became 5.

30 terrified girls became 5 ruthless ones, eyes trained... emotionless killers.

Their dainty arms capable of a swifter death than a gun. Slim fingers able to twirl a knife like someone would spin a pen.

Sleep not filled with dreams of puppies and ponies, but the haunting features of their victims. The screams, the looks of pain and anguish on their faces that each girl took in only moments before each life was ended.

Each life less important than the last.

The air was cold. No signs of love. No comfort. Just stone cold harsh reality that they had grown accustomed to. Freezing their young hearts to not feel pain.

Teaching them to crave the feeling. The satisfaction of a clean kill. A bullet straight through the heart. A silent knife slice to the throat, lodged in the stomach of an unsuspecting victim.

Somehow, the inside of the ice covered building was colder than the outside. The only sounds were barking orders and screams of pain. Each gut wrenching noise not affecting the 5 girls who remained.

Their faces were cold, no expressions as they fought through the day. No words of conversation passed between roommates, no cheers of congratulations as sparring matches were won.

These girls weren't friends. They were competitors. And losing to someone else meant death.

But there was an anomaly within. A flicker of light in the endless pool of darkness. A spark.

Hope.

Natasha Romanoff. The girl most likely to succeed. She was the top girl. Loved by all the trainers, she was the favourite. Her ruthlessness, her seductive ways were well beyond her years. So much strength in a tiny 15 year old body.

Yet she risked throwing it all away. For a girl.

Anastasia Vladimenkova.

The dark haired girl who was an incredibly skilled dancer and knife thrower. Her accuracy was unbeatable, but her sparring was not up to the same standard.

Somehow, the tiny piece of Natasha's heart that still remained took pity on her and trained her secretly at night, so she wouldn't be killed off in the next ceremony.

The girls formed an odd friendship, if you want to call it that. They didn't know love, but somehow found it in each other. And suppressed feeling spiralled quickly, so the friends turned into lovers quickly.

They would sneak out at night for stolen kisses and private moments, hands just roaming each other's bodies, trying to hold on to the last moments they got with each other. No one knew when their last day would be.

But the ceremony was looming over their shoulder, knowing their group of 5 would become 4 by tomorrow evening.

It was 2am and Natasha had taken Anastasia to the shower room, as the barred window let the moonlight shine down onto the cracked tiled floor, lighting their faces slightly.

Their bodies were pushed into the corner, Natasha's back against the cold stone as Anastasia laid her head on her chest. The atmosphere was different, they could both feel it.

"I don't want tomorrow to come." the brunette whispered,  breathing in Nat's scent as she spoke.

"I know. I don't either. Especially not if it means I lose you."

Anastasia swivelled round and sat opposite Nat, her hand on her cheek. "You're not gonna lose me. You know they don't put us against each other. We're too valuable to them."

Natasha sighed, the moonlight in the small bathroom window catching her eyes. The moon and stars looked so free, something the redhead craved more than ever. "I don't want to be an object anymore. I want to run away. With you." She turned her head back to Stasia and pulled her closer, their faces inches away from each other.

Green eyes stared into chocolate brown ones, fear dancing across their pupils. They could be as hopeful as a child on christmas, but it wouldn't stop the brutal ceremony from tearing them apart tomorrow. No one could predict the outcome, and it was something Natasha hated.

"I don't want to lose you. I cant lose you." The redhead whispered, her eyes glinting as tears filled up to her waterline.

"You have me right now. And I love you."

That was enough for the teenagers to gently press  their lips together, eyes closed in the blissful moment. It wasn't passionate or lust filled like it should have been, because the girls had never been exposed to that. The kiss was light and sweet, their lips moving together but nothing more.

"Natty." Stasia mumbled against her lover's lips. "We can escape. Tomorrow night. All we need to do is get through the ceremony. And then we go." The brunette pulled away and sat back on Nat's thighs, her legs hooked around the redhead's waist. "We can do it. We can make it work."

Nat shook her head. "How Stas? You know the guards; they're everywhere. We're small, but not that small. We can't slip past them without being seen."

"We can Nat. Please, we need to try."

Anastasia’s voice had raised slightly, which wouldn't have been an issue if everyone in their dorm room was asleep. But one blonde girl in the bed closest to the bathroom was laying awake, the sound of muffled voices sparking her curiosity.

Saskia crept out of her bed, her stealth skills coming in handy as she padded across the stone floor. Sticking to the shadows, she tiptoed across the room, hiding by the doorframe as she finally got a look at the girls who were hiding.

The red hair was an instant giveaway, and the girl she was lip locked with on her lap wasn't difficult to make out either. Natasha and Anastasia. The top girls in the class. The Madame's favourite girls.

As they spoke, Nat suddenly shushed Stasia, feeling a presence in the room. Saskia pressed herself closer to the wall, holding her breath. But Anastasia just giggled and pulled Nat's face back to her, joking about her being paranoid, which Nat accepted with a kiss.

Saskia smirked to herself, knowing how she instantly had an advantage the day before the fighting ceremony. She hovered for 10 more minutes, her smile growing wider as Anastasia’s excited voice muttered over their escape plan. It layer out perfectly in the blonde's palm and she scurried back to bed, finally able to sleep peacefully.

- ⧗ -

5 teenagers sat on the head table, tactical suits on their bodies, hair braided and pulled back out of their faces. Porridge filled their bowls, but none of them wanted to eat, the fear filling their empty stomachs, taking the space of any food that would give them energy to fight.

Saskia wandered in late, a smug expression on her stark features. She glanced at Stasia and Natasha, who were sat on the other end of the table, her eyebrow quirking up. Her plan was working.

As the girls lined up at the edge of the sparring mats, Nat reached out and linked her pinky finger with Stasia’s, their little promise ritual they performed before every fight. It was small and subtle, but it gave them a small promise and it had worked in every single fight they had done. Their promise to be there for each other. To not leave, to not betray and to not die.

Madam walked into the sparring area, her hands clasped as tightly behind her back as her hair was pulled up in a bun. She scanned the teenagers in front of her, eyes lingering on the redhead and brunette for a split second longer.

"As you all aware, today is your final sparring ceremony. The girls who survive will go on to become the greatest assassins the world has ever known. The KGB will be grateful for your services."

Anastasia gulped, her heart rate picking up. She always hated sparring; it wasn't where her skill set lay. If this was a knife throwing competition she would win by a mile. Her accuracy was unmatched.

"Natasha Romanoff." Madam's heavily accented voice called out, her eagle eyed gaze locking firmly on the redhead. Nat walked forward, wanting nothing more than to hug Stasia, but knowing it would get her killed.

"And your opponent will be... Anastasia Vladimenkova."

The girls' hearts dropped to their stomachs. No. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't part of the plan. Not at all.

With shaking hands clenched tightly into fists, Anastasia walked onto the mats, her head held high. She couldn't show her emotions right now, as much as she wanted to burst into tears. She was supposed to be made of marble, they both were, and so couldn't show weakness when put against each other. They were nothing more than sparring partners, fighting for their life.

They waited for the signal before starting to circle, fists raised in defence in front of their faces, eyes locked on each other. Natasha wished she had telepathic abilities so she could talk to Stasia, trying to form a plan in her head.

They were pulling their brunches as they fought, not wanting to cause serious injury, but causing the odd bruise here and there so it didn't look too suspicious.

But after 15 minutes, Madam called out for them to stop. She called 2 guards over and they grabbed Nat by the arms, causing the redhead to instinctively lash out, kicking and punching at her attackers.

"Nat!" Anastasia cried, running forwards before she too was dragged back. She didn't care that Madam was watching her. She didn't know where they were gonna take Natasha and terror flooded her body.

But she stopped fighting as Nat was forced into a chair, her face still as stone like and straight as ever. Not a single emotion flashed behind her eyes. Not when her wrists were tired. Not when Madam grabbed her face. Not when Anastasia had a gun forced into her hands, guards aiming their own guns at the back of the brunette's head.

"Love is for children. Are you a child Natasha?" Madam spat, her russian accent thick.

"No Ma'am."

She turned to Anastasia. "Are you a child Anastasia?"

The brunette's hands shook around the gun that was clasped between her fingers, aimed at Natasha who was sat straight on the chair. "No Ma'am."

"Weakness." She growled, her ice cold palm slapping Natasha across the face. "You are to be made of marble. Not wasting your time making faces at things like that!" Her bony finger pointed in Anastasia’s direction, seeing the weaker girl flinch under her gaze. All of Stasia’s training had gone out of the window, pure panic flooding her veins as she saw Natasha sat before her.

"Yes Ma'am." Nat's voice was emotionless, the sparkle Stasia was used to seeing completely distinguished.

"Natasha Romanoff you would have been the top student. I had high expectations for you, and you've thrown it all away. Thank you Saskia, for showing me that you're not truly cut out to take your place in the world."

"I have no place in the world." Natasha mumbled, her eyeline dropping to the floor.

"You're right. You don't." Madam turned back to Anastasia, who had dropped the gun to her side. "Anastasia. Shoot her."

"I- what?" Stasia’s eyes went wide, but there was no  hint of a joke in her instructor's eyes.

"You heard my words Vladimenkova. Kill her. You will not have any weaknesses."

Anastasia gulped but raised the gun, eyes locked with Natasha. Sweat trickled down her brow and she gulped, feeling a tear slip down her cheek.

"Nat." She whispered, trying to get a reaction from her.

"It's okay Stas. Do it. I'm with you baby. I'm always with you." Nat pushed down all of her fear. The sight of the gun brought relief, which was twisted. She was 15 years old, a gun should spark fear. Not be a source of comfort to end her pain. In her mind, if she couldn't have Stasia then she didn't want to live. And the Academy wouldn't allow her to have both.

"Nat no. I can't." She dropped the gun.

Big mistake.

The moment the metal clanged against the tiled floor, Natasha knew it was over. The guards' reflexes were fast. Too fast. The girl's pale fingers dropped the weapon and a shot was fired into her skull at the same second.

Nat had wiggled her way out of the rope, so the moment Anastasia’s body dropped to the floor, she leaped out of her chair and raced across the floor, screaming out as blood stained the old tiles. Anastasia’s body was limp as Nat got there, her eyes dull as she stared up at the ceiling.

"No!" The redhead yelled out, startling the giles standing on the opposite side of the room. She looked up at them, scanning and analysing each and every one of them. They were all scared, showing the same expression.

Except one.

Saskia had an guilty essence about her and Nat saw it straight away. She saw red and glared at her, breathing heavily through her nose. The snake. The reason her love was sprawled on the floor, a bullet hole in her skull.

Natasha's fingers curled around Stasia’s, their pinkies locking together like they'd done less than an hour before. Her tears dropped onto the brunette’ chest and she cried out before anger took over again.

Still clutching Stasia, she lifted her head again and locked eyes with Saskia, her bottom lip trembling. "YOU!"

But her rage was never taken out as 2 guards surged forwards, grabbing her arms and pulling her away. Nat's stone cold facade had dropped away and she screamed out for Anastasia, her gaze fixed on her best friend, her lover, the light in her dark life, her body laying abandoned on the floor like she was garbage.

"Stasia!! Stas no!" She kicked and screamed, fighting with all her might to get away from the guards. But her tiny 15 year old, malnourished body was no match for the 6 foot guards built of pure muscle. Not in her hysterical state. Assassin Natasha could take these guys out with 2 moves, but her body and mind weren't working as one.

She screamed and cried the whole way down the corridors, not even taking in her surroundings. She didn't know where she was until she was thrown into a cell, hearing the barred doors clang shut. But she didn't move. Her body landed in a heap on the stone floor and she stayed and wept, clawing at her chest and arms in pain as she wailed. She passed out hours later, her hands clasped together...

Her pinkies linked together.

Like the ghost of Anastasia was with her, watching over her and looking out for her, like they had always promised.

[rowretro]

𝕭𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉

✧IMAGES DO NOT BELONG TO ME✧

✧warnings: drugs, gambling, violent descriptions, yandere/toxic themes, harassment, (also i think this is cringe-)

✧synopsis: Yang Jungwon. rebellious kid with daddy issues since he was 11, is now extremely feared mafia boss. He never knew that he'd ever fall for his school enemy, though she looked like the type to seduce him to his death.

Inspired by the song Good thing by Kehlani

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Waitress by the day, wild card by the night. Jungwon saw her one night, gambling with big shots and breaking their ego. That red bralette paired with matching, red flared trousers. Her alluring eyes, sassy nails, seductive attitude. The colour of the devil's blood looked beautiful on her. A stunning smile, a tiny tattoo on wrist. Jungwon always got what he want, money, power, fear. He wants her.

Y/n Ko, the girl whom he always hated in school. That pretty face, that sassy attitude, the way she doesn't fear her like the others though he's never hit her once no matter how out of hand she gets. The man had bet on her that one day, she'll fall for him the way he fell for her, and since then all he's been doing is trying to get the anti romantic do have at least one loving dance with him. He stalked her one day, finding that she worked as a waitress at a very fancy restaurant. The owner often mistreating all the workers. It's his time to shine.

Y/n arrived an hour late, rolling her eyes as she noticed Jungwon at one of the tables. With a fake smile she waited his table "Good evening sir what can I get you?" she asked formally as Jungwon smirked "I want to get you." he simply said as the girl rolled her eyes, going to another table.

The classy, boring piano music, simply faded into a more jazzy, modern style of piano music. God she knew that style of music, and she guessed right when she heard him sing. Jungwon of course, singing a song he knew she can't resist. She smiles, waiting another table. Annoyed, one of the girls who was of a higher class and may have a thing for Jungwon accidentally poured some red wine on her white shirt "Oh I am so sorry it was truly an accident" the girl said, the fake pity oh so evident in that annoying voice.

Y/n smiled unbuttoning her white shirt "Oh its alright, accidents happen" she said as she placed the white shirt in the girl's hands "Dry clean that for me if you want to make it up to me." She said, still waiting tables wearing a lacy red corset that was under her uniform. As she waited a table full of men, prying on women to replace their wives with, one slapped her ass making a vulgar, comment as she took their orders. "Don't be rude... we're offerring you a litle break, c'mon sit with us baby... this is the best offer you'll get in a life time" One of the men taunted.

Within seconds, he dropped dead. A clear, bloody bullet hole in his head. Y/n smirked at the body shrugging as she smiled sarcastically. She didn't lay a hand on him. Jungwon shot him. She snatched two untouched glasses of wine as she approached Jungwon. The man smirked, as she gently poured some red wine down his throat, her body rested upon the piano as he played. She placed a rose in his mouth as she sang along, her voice sweet as honey, despite those devilish acts she adopted.

Jungwon gently pulled her off, arm around her waist, as his other hand held onto hers, fingers intertwining. one of her hands on his shoulder, rose in her mouth. The two danced oh so beautifully, toxic love in every step, his hand reached for the gun when he realized the dead man's guards had arrived at the scene. Flawlessly shooting them all to death, "Yang Jungwon you have a very unique way to approach girls..." the girl said as Jungwon smirked, spinning her, and catching her "Only one girl... the seductive devil who fell into the demon king's arms. I won the bet, so as per the rules you're mine." the man smirked as she kissed his lips, people screaming and running to flee the bloody scene of horror.

[mrs-prentiss]

Emily Prentiss x OC (Valerie Karter) Story

Emilys Secret Life

Part One Here : Emily Prentiss x Valerie Karter

Part Two : Emily Prentiss x Valerie Karter

——————————————————————

**BTW> I did not proof read this I’m to lazy**

——————————————————————

“Valerie and I met when I was running interpol. We started dating right before I left, she was still in London at the time. She was working undercover, and then when we got married she was still undercover so I couldn’t tell anyone. Even if I did she’s an asshole who held a gun to my head to keep it a secret” Emily started to say but Valerie cut her off

“It’s a metaphorical gun, I’m not that kinky” Valerie commented quickly to hopefully defend herself and ease some of the tension with Emily and Penelope “Yes you are?!”

Emily remarked in shock as she looked at her wife in utter disbelief she’d claim to not be that kinky. Realistically Valerie was not into Gun Kinks, other kinks sure, but we’ll share those later ;)

“No I’m- shut up…anyways Penelope. She really wanted to tell you, all of you but she couldn’t. It would have jeopardized her safety and my own. By the time I came out of my undercover work, we got so comfortable in the bubble of us..we just didn’t want to risk telling anyone” Valerie finished Emily’s explanation since she cut her off.

Penelope sat there in silence and looked at them with a squint in her eyes and a furrow to her eyebrows. She stayed quiet for what felt like hours and was only merely a few minutes “So…you’re trusting me to keep this secret? I’m not mad anymore..I just wish i could have been there to meet her from the beginning. I mean she’s so hot! look at her! look at her come here! come here right now”

Valerie froze slightly and walked over to Penelope who took her hand and made her spin in a circle “Look! You- Ohhh I can’t believe this whole time you’ve known me you dated men and then just decided to swing the hottest woman in London?!”

Emily’s eyes followed her wife and slowly dragged up and down her body with a sultry smile on her face, she leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms with a knowing look “trust me..I know” she simply said.

————

The conversation with Penelope ended on a rather positive note, she agreed to keep the secret as long as she got to come over to the couples house and look at their wedding photos. Emily was hesitant but Valerie loved the idea and even invited Penelope over for dinner. In the meantime however Valereie and Emily were having a meeting over ‘business appropriate stuff’ The important stuff in question was not exactly work appropriate.

A few papers were slid across the desk and thrown onto the floor, Emily blindly moved her computer and files aside as her lips were hungrily attached to Valeries. Valerie's hands were grasping at Emily's face as the older woman’s hand dug into her wife’s hip. They broke apart for two seconds for Emily to lift her onto the desk, Emily took a second to stare at her wife who had a seductive and blissed out grin.

“Sex in the boss's office on the first day? I can check this off my bucket list” Valerie said slowly as she stuck her foot out and wrapped it around Emily's hips tugging her closer. She grabbed her by the collar and pulled her in, pressing her lips roughly against hers “This reminds me of the filthy message you sent me…hm? Do you recall”

Emily closed her eyes and played dumb as she snuck her hands under her wife’s shirt gently scratching at the skin “I’m an angel sweetheart, I’ve never said anything nasty to you” her lips moved against hers as she spoke before she pulled away momentarily “Really.” Valerie sat up straight on the desk with one leg still loosely hooked around Emilys hips. “You said and I quote, I can’t wait for you to get to quantico so i can fuck you on all surfaces in my office. Which isn’t very angelic of you” she teased

Emily grimaced at her own words and gently pushed Valerie back against the desk, she leaned over her and undid her button up shirt and kissed the exposed skin with a kiss between every few words “if *kiss* I recall *kiss* correctly you *kiss* asked me *kiss* to *kiss* fuck you as if you where my slutty little agent” Emily nipped at the skin above her collar bone and smirk as she looked at her wife’s face which leaned back against the desk. Valerie was breathing softly with little whimpers of pleasure at her wife’s touch and words “Is that what you are pretty girl, are you my slutty agent” Emily leaned down with one hand grasping at her wife’s breast through her black laced bra and the other digging into her side as her mouth attacked her chest and neck in warm kisses

The rest of the team was on lunch or on a brief break outside getting some air, and Penelope was gathering intel on their newest unknown unsub and confusing case “you asked me to come tell you guys if there was a case. There is! So whenever you’re done doing…nasty nasty stuff. Horn dogs, honestly I’m never sitting at your desk again”

Valerie leaned her head a back against the desk looking at Penelope through her lashed when she laughed loudly and sat up with the help of Emily who started to button up her shirt ‘I’m sorry P, close the door we’ll talk about the case” she said smiling as she stood up off the desk and tucked her shirt into her pants and leaned a against the side of her desk on her hip. Emily flushed slightly a little embarrassed that her friend walked in on her, she sat down in her chair and nodded as Penelope sat a little distance away from the desk but close enough she could reach it

“Okay you freak a leaks. The unsub hasn’t killed anybody, they’ve only sent me photos of Valerie and you to my email. They’ve also got photos of everyone on the team leaving their houses, coming into work and going home from work” Penelope starting to talk as she placed photos onto the desk of everyone on the team in different locations over various time periods “Whoever it is has taken a strange liking to Valerie because they have photos of her dating back to London” she said sitting the pictures down “All of his photos of Valerie are blown up, there’s tons. Some are close ups, some are far away, this one is her at the gym, her in the hotel, this is her on the plane here and her walking into Quantico this morning”

Emily couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t worried for her wife’s safety but she also couldn’t lie and say she wouldn’t set the world on fire for her either “Who ever it is wants us to know that they’re looking at us” Valerie remarked as she looked through the pictures “We can’t assume that it’s just one person that’s taking these photos. If they’ve got photos of me in London and you guys in America at the same time then they have to be working with someone else.”she said with a brief shrug.

Valerie turned slightly and held the photo of her up in the light and squinted “There’s a drawing? or some type of printing under the photo. Let me see some more” she said, taking the photos from Emily as she handed them to her. She handed the picture to Emily and Penelope who held them up to the light and looked closer “Is that?” Penelope said slowly in shock

“Oh my god…it’s Valhalla” Emily said with a pale expression as she sat the photos down quickly “He’s dead…right? Isn’t he dead” Penelope immediately said with a panicked face

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Secret Nights

Azazeal x reader!Winchester

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

The Impala’s engine hums softly as Sam and Dean sleep soundly in a small-town motel. Taking advantage of her brothers' deep rest, Y/N Winchester, their younger sister, quietly sneaks out of the room. Her heart beats faster than usual—not out of fear of being caught, but from anticipation. She knows exactly where she’s going and who she’ll meet there.

At the edge of an abandoned cemetery, bathed in moonlight, Azazeal waits. The fallen angel leans casually against a crumbling headstone, his black coat flowing around him like shadows. His piercing gaze, as always, cuts through the darkness, his eyes faintly glowing gold. A seductive smile graces his lips as he spots Y/N.

“You’re late, little hunter,” Azazeal says with a hint of mockery, his deep voice making Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“Sam and Dean always stay up late,” she replies, stepping closer, her voice steady despite the overwhelming intensity of his presence.

Azazeal moves toward her, his steps fluid and predatory. “And yet you risk everything to be here. Why?” His fingertips lightly graze her cheek.

“Because I want you,” Y/N answers quietly.

Azazeal smiles—a dangerous, knowing smile. “You know this won’t come without consequences. Your brothers will find out eventually. They’ll hunt me. They’ll try to protect you.”

“They have no idea what I need. They wouldn’t understand.”

Azazeal raises an eyebrow, stepping closer still, his hands sliding around her waist. “What do you need, Y/N? Tell me.”

Her breath hitches as she feels the heat radiating from him. His face is so close, she can make out every detail of his striking features. “You,” she whispers, tilting her head up to kiss him.

Azazeal doesn’t hesitate. His lips are demanding, searing, and the kiss quickly deepens into something wild and untamed. His hands glide over her back, pulling her closer, while her fingers clutch desperately at his coat.

Y/N loses herself in the moment, in the intensity of his touch, as his grip signals something almost possessive. “You’re mine, little Winchester,” he murmurs huskily, his lips trailing to her neck, leaving a fiery path on her skin.

She lets out a soft moan but fights to keep some control. “Maybe I am… but only because I choose to be.”

Azazeal chuckles softly, his breath brushing against her skin. “You’re the first to ever dare challenge me. And that, my dear, makes you so… irresistible.”

Suddenly, a rustling sound interrupts them. Azazeal tenses momentarily, but when two familiar voices ring out, he rolls his eyes.

“Y/N! What the hell are you doing here?”

It’s Dean. Sam stands a few steps behind, holding a salt-loaded gun, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Y/N spins around quickly to face her brothers, her heart pounding in alarm. “Dean? Sam? How did you find me?”

Dean scoffs, his anger palpable. “You really thought we wouldn’t notice you sneaking around? Bobby said you’ve been acting weird. So, we tracked your phone.”

“We figured you were off hunting something stupid on your own,” Sam adds, his weapon trained on Azazeal. “But this? Seriously?”

Y/N steps back hastily, but Azazeal’s hand remains firmly on her waist, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Ah, the brothers. Right on time, as always.”

Dean growls. “Of all the creatures you could’ve chosen, you went with him? A fallen angel.”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Y/N protests, but Dean raises a hand to cut her off.

“It looks like you’ve lost your damn mind.”

Sam steadies his aim on Azazeal. “Let her go. Now.”

Azazeal raises his hands in mock surrender but doesn’t fully release Y/N. “She’s here of her own free will. Isn’t that right, darling?” His voice drips with taunting amusement.

“Sam, Dean… I don’t need you to constantly dictate my life!” Y/N’s voice shakes, but she holds her ground.

Dean scoffs. “This isn’t dictating. This is saving you. He’s a demon—or worse. You can’t trust him.”

“And yet she does,” Azazeal interjects, locking eyes with Y/N. “Don’t you?”

Y/N gives a small nod, her lips pressed into a determined line.

“This isn’t over,” Dean mutters, pulling out his angel blade and pointing it at Azazeal.

Azazeal’s smile remains calm. “Oh, I’m counting on it, hunters. But until then…” He turns to Y/N, capturing her lips in one last, heated kiss before vanishing into a swirl of shadows.

Dean and Sam stare at Y/N, who is still reeling from the kiss.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” Dean growls, storming back to the Impala, Sam following with a shake of his head.

Y/N is left standing alone, her heart heavy with the confrontation to come—and yet yearning for what she shares with Azazeal.

[hazbinned]

@angie-long-legs - Beauty and the Beast at Queen Beezlebub's Masquerade Ball

As Valentino helped Angel Dust out of the back of the limousine, he couldn't help but be flushed with memories of the last time the two of them had attended a ball. His heart was already pounding along to the rhythm of the music that was blasting from the venue, but he knew it wasn't just that-- he was nervous that this would go terribly wrong. Nervous wasn't a good look on Val, though. It never had been. He was fine being angry, or excited, or drunk off his rocker, but nervous was too close to scared for his liking, and too close to weak for him to spin around and turn sexy.

So much had happened last time... and since last time. He'd felt so out of place and undignified when mushed in with everyone there, like they were the true Overlords and he was just some drugged-up poser they'd got off the street. It was a terrifying experience for someone who was so used to being the life of the party, to controlling things— to fitting in.

He and Angel Dust had made a scene with burgers, booze, and boots and then had hurried outside, where they'd had a shocking heart-to-heart.

Then, weeks later, Valentino had held a gun to the spider's head with aim to shoot.

Perhaps that last time was what had spurred that attack on Angel. Valentino had been too... real.

But they were better now.

Val was being nice now, and he was going to keep being nice. Feeling things he had never felt before when he eyed the gold-clad arachnid meant he wasn't going to stray from this newfound path of half-assed decency.

Val could be better. He could be sorry, civil, normal.

Val wanted to be better.

Right?

"Look at you!" the moth exclaimed, stepping back to squint at Angel's extravagant yellow dress and golden rose-crown. He whipped out his phone and very quickly snapped a picture of them both before posting it to social media with nothing more than a caption that said 'xx'. "You really look the part, baby! Minus the hair, of course, but... oh, well. Everyone's still gonna love us."

He stalked forward to assist the spider with where he was struggling with his dress.

"This time's gonna be so much better than last time," he assured him— falling into old patterns already. A pep-talk, a parallel of their last ball.

Perhaps, this time, Angel needed it too.

"I already feel more like me. How do I look?" asked Val, posturing in his costume. This one wasn't all stuffy and buttoned up. He was the 'Beast' to their 'Beauty and the Beast', but he'd managed to pull the look off while still wearing a miniskirt, fishnets, and high-heeled boots (under an elegant, regal blue blazer, of course!)... and his shirt was unbuttoned down to the chest. All in all, Val looked more Val than he had before. He ran his fingers seductively up his leg and then leaned in to loop one arm through Angel's. "And, this time," Valentino continued, "I brought heel glue. Plus, there's a lot of people here! Not just Overlords and their friends..."

Even imps.

Val had started walking in the middle of his talk, when he stopped all of a sudden and turned around, blinking at everything. This was the first time that either he or Angel had been allowed to visit another ring. Sinners typically weren't allowed to venture outside of Pride. He wanted to take it all in while he still could, especially since they were in Gluttony. Next to Lust, this was the number one destination on his list of never-ever-gonna-happen dream vacations!

Val heaved a sigh through his pheromone-soaked teeth, snapped a few more pictures (some just of his surroundings, a couple selfies, and one of Angel)-- before stepping aside so Angel could go in before him. Another arm held his mask to his face, in front of his glasses. It was a masquerade, after all!

"What do you wanna hit first?" he asked him, eyes alight with more excitement than adrenaline now. "I didn't bring any food this time because they actually have normal food here, so there's nothing to embarrass us. I mean, we don't want a repeat of the infamous—" His voice lowered an octave. "Burger Boys Gossip Session."

Valentino straightened up, grinning in spite of it.

"But!" he laughed. "Nobody will recognize us. Come on. Maybe we can get a look at Queen Bee."

And they started walking, when two Hellhounds and an imp snorted and pulled out their phones... jeering between giggles something that could only ever apply to the pair of insects that passed before them: "Look! It's Burgertits and Big Daddy Burger! The Burger Boys are in town in time for the Burger Ball!"

"FUCK you!" Val snarled, and proceeded to flip them off with all four hands before shepherding Angel away from them. He stopped at the end of the snack table and massaged his temples. "Okay, maybe I was wrong about nobody recognizing us," the moth admitted sourly. "But we can still enjoy the night...? Yeah?"

{ Div. Cred }

[rinrites]

because you’re a dean winchester trapped in a female body - a jo and a bella and a meg - you’re angry swagger and leather over denim over plaid. whiskey straight and gas station food and burning rubber. a loaded gun, a sharpened blade, a tongue to match. cocky and confident and a punchable face. daddy issues to a t. split lip dribbling blood and seduction. sweat and musk and dirt under your nails. american rock and roll, voice deep, jeans blue, cassette tape blasting out your speakers. digging yourself out of a grave and calling your closest friend a bitch, nerves as raw as the dawn. but your body is built of betrayal and regret - aching bones are too tired from saving the world to hold you in so you ooze out girlhood, collared shirt slipping open to reveal a little too much as you slice open a throat. a catcall in a crowded bar. eyelashes studying ceilings to see if you’ll get pinned to them tonight. and you are so, so hated - screens and message boards light up blue with bile, thousands of words screaming that you’re stupid and useless and mean and an unlikable slut of a mary sue. they won’t stop, fists battering down your door until you’re dragged through the street by the hair you could never cut short enough, flung in front of an eighteen wheeler for the common good. your spin off gets cancelled. your gifs are fatal. you are a dark cowboy who doesn’t flinch at the night, veins packed with sulphur and beer - and you are destined for an unmarked grave.

[goddessserena0]

The chair spins around to reveal the source of the voice. Serena had long black hair and eyes that seemed to shine like a rainbow, she wore a lab coat and a pair of glasses. She was staring at you with a look that made your stomach drop, it took everything you had to not run out of that place.

She gets up from the chair and casually approaches you and Riza. "So this is the one I've been hearing about, it's nice to finally put a face to the name." Her voice has a sinister feel to it, almost as if she wanted to strap you down and experiment on you right there. You reflexively shiver at her voice and the thought and she lets out a sinister chuckle.

Riza sighs, "Serena stop, I'm sure that they already don't want to be here, please don't make it worse."

"Yeah, yeah, fine." Her voice loses the sinister tone, "Welcome Frisken, to my lab, where nearly every technological advancement in Spiritan has started. Not to mention where I spend most of my time these days. But, if you have anything involving science or souls done, come on over and I'll do my best to help you."

Serena's sudden shift causes all tension in you to drain away. You actually start to feel comfortable around Serena, though you still have a bit of trouble fully trusting her.

"So, the first step of everything," She grabs a strange gun looking device and points it at you, "Hold still." A light shoots out from the device and covers you. It crawls all over you before stopping. Serena puts the device down and goes over to the computer. She types something on the keyboard and a screen pops up near you. "These are the results of your initial scan."

You look over the screen and it shows a lot of basic things. Height, weight, eye color, hair color, skin color, age, pretty much stuff you already know. A couple things catch your eye though, the first being origin, but you couldn't read it. Looks like you can't even read the name of where you came from. The other data set was marked element which to your surprise was marked with question marks.

"Um, this has question marks for my element, what does that mean?"

"I'm glad you asked, it means that you have a unique soul that I have never seen before. Which means that I need to do some more invasive tests to figure it all out."

"Invasive? What do you mean by that."

Riza kneels down, "Don't worry Frisken, Serena wont hurt you. Plus, I will be here with you, and I'll make sure you don't get hurt."

"Yeah, don't worry, I take the safety of my subjects very seriously."

Riza glares at Serena when she calls Frisken a subject.

"I'm just trying to reassure the kid Riza. I'm not gonna hurt him." Serena goes over to one of the shelves in the lab.

You take a deep breath, "Ok, what does this invasive test entail?"

Serena places a large jar of a cyan liquid and a pair of gloves on one of the tables. "Well, first, I have to pull out your soul."

You feel your entire body as soon as she says this, "T-take out my s-soul? Wouldn't that k-kill me?"

"What, no, of course not. If doing so would kill you I would never suggest it. A soul can exist outside of its host for a time as long as the chain that binds it remains intact. That's what reapers do when they reap a soul, they shatter that chain so the soul can be removed from the body. The process will cause your body to feel numb and you wont be able to move much, so that is a side-effect. But, I can assure you, this is completely safe and I have done this a lot, just ask Riza." Serena gives Riza a seductive look and Riza blushes.

"Serena, there is a child present."

Serena lets out a laugh, "My point is, I may not be as skilled as a reaper but I'm able to handle souls just as well. Now, up on the table with you." She pats the table she has the jar on as she puts the gloves on. They are black with lines on the fingers with small orbs at the knuckles.

You do as you are instructed and sit up on the table. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. You can hardly sit still and it takes everything you have to not sprint out of the lab.

Serena takes the lid off the jar and dunks her hands into the liquid inside. When she pulls them out, they seem to glow slightly. "Alright Frisken," Her voice has become calm and almost soothing, "Are you ready to do this?"

You look over at Riza who comes over and places a hand on yours. You feel a strange warmth from her touch and you take a deep breath before exhaling. "Yeah, let's get this over with."

"Alright, hold still." Serena takes her left hand and points it toward your chest before slowly bringing it toward you. As her fingers would touch your chest you see them pass into you. You let out a loud gasp and jump slightly. You can feel as her hand slowly dives deeper into you until it touches your soul. The moment you feel a finger on your soul it feels like she is touching you everywhere. As her hand encloses on your soul it feels as if she were squeezing you in a vice. Your body starts to go numb and it becomes hard to breathe, you want to tell her to stop but your voice escapes you. You watch as she begins retracting your hand and in a moment a red glow shines before you.

In Serena's hand is a small red orb, giving off a soft glow, a small tendril connecting to your chest hanging from it. Serena stares at it, slowly turning her hand to see every angle. After what feels like an eternity she finally says, "Well Frisken, say hello to your soul."

You are in utter shock as you stare at this small orb. You struggle to speak, "So, that is what a soul looks like?"

"Yes, though they are not normally this color. Your soul has a very bright red color as you can see. I will need to collect a sample so that I can run some tests. With her other hand, she picks up a syringe and dips the end in the liquid from before. She positions the point on the edge of your soul. "This is going to be painful and uncomfortable, I am sorry."

You close your eyes and nod your head and Serena inserts the needle. You feel the pain of being stabbed throughout your whole body and then feel yourself being drained of energy before the need is removed. You open your eyes to see the syringe filled with a red liquid, which Serena carefully puts down.

When she looks away, you see what you thought was movement on your soul. "Um, Serena," You struggle to say, "Is it normal for things to be moving on my soul?"

Serena looks at you confused, "What, no, that is most certainly not normal. That could be a major problem, I will need to get rid of that quickly." Serena begins carefully scanning your soul again, her eyes developing a star shape in them. She searches before finally spotting something and pinching it between her fingers. From what you can see, it looks like the strand connecting your soul to you.

You suddenly feel an immense pain in your head and chest. You can hear what sounds like screaming in your head and like something is being ripped from your chest.

Before you have time to process everything you hear, "Stop it, leave me alone!" That came out of your mouth but it wasn't your voice.

Serena looks at you confused, "Frisken, that wasn't your voice. Who was that?"

Before you can say anything, "It's me, the one your about to crush between your fingers."

A realization comes to Serena, "Ah, so the parasite can talk, and it's asking for mercy."

"I'm not a parasite, I didn't choose to be here. Please, just leave me alone."

"Well, do you have a name then?"

The room is silent for a moment, "Chaldra."