#mouthy and daring and rude

[charliedawn]

THE LAP DANCE

WARNING: MINORS KEEP OUT. DO NOT READ THIS. PLEASE.

Slashers x Reader

(Nurse Y/N is different from you here for plot purposes. I have nothing to say as to defend myself on why I wrote this. I just had the urge to do so. I…yeah. Enjoy.)

The hospital had reluctantly agreed to Bo’s request for a “supervised outing,” for Bo’s birthday—especially after weeks of surprisingly good behavior. Of course, they had no idea that Bo had something very specific in mind when he requested a trip to “somewhere lively.” He’d picked the club himself. Low lighting, pulsing music, velvet couches…He didn’t tell the others what was happening—just that they were all invited to celebrate with him. He grinned as he sat and invited the others to join him…

The paperwork the Head Nurse had to fill to make this happen was colossal, but Bo had been adamant about his birthday present.

Worth it when he saw the faces of the others when the girl arrived…Most of those guys had never had a lap dance in their lives. He smirked. Oh yeah. That was gonna be fun.

Jason Voorhees:

Frozen. Absolutely paralyzed. Jason doesn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands. His entire body is tense like a statue. Inside ? A confused whirlwind of “???” and “why is this happening ?” but also…maybe a little flustered and shyly grateful. He’d never ask for it, but wouldn’t stop you either.

From the moment you straddle the chair in front of him, Jason stiffens. He doesn’t move—doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. His fingers dig into the armrests like they’re the only thing tethering him to the earth. Under that cracked hockey mask, his single visible eye widens ever so slightly, flicking to your hands, your hips, your eyes when you make contact. It’s not lust so much as bewilderment—why would you do this for him ? Is this a trick ? A trap ?

But the longer you dance, the more his breathing changes. He starts shifting slightly in his seat, body quaking with barely restrained energy. His hand reaches out…but hovers in the air, not quite daring to touch. He has seen many teens having intercourse but this is…quite nice actually. It is dancing and you aren’t being particularly rude or loud or touchy…He likes that.

Michael Myers:

While the others hoot, shift, or lean in with hungry stares, Michael sits still—hands resting on his knees, mask tilted ever so slightly, eyes locked on you. You might think he’s unaffected…until you notice his breathing pick up and his grip tightening slightly on the chair.

When you approach him, the temperature seems to drop. He doesn’t lean forward or make room, but he doesn’t stop you either. He allows it. Which, for Michael, says more than words ever could. You straddle him. And for a split second—just one—his chest rises sharply. You move slowly, sensually, teasing your fingertips along the neckline of his jumpsuit, arching your back, letting your breath tickle the blank white mask. His hands remain rigid at first, curled into fists on his thighs.

Then—contact. Your hips roll against him. His eyes, dark through the mask’s hollow sockets, stay trained on you. Studying the way you smirk, the way you dance like you aren’t afraid. Like you know the risk and don’t care. But he does eventually put a hand on your hip.

He tilts his head ever so slightly when you leave, watching the sway of your hips. His hand stay outstretched for a moment longer, fingers still faintly curled where your body had been.

His chest rises again. Slower this time. Controlled. And though he says nothing, you can feel it: he liked it.

Freddy Krueger:

“Oh-ho-ho, baby, you’re speaking my language.” Freddy is hands-on, mouthy, and teasing the entire time. He’d throw dollar bills like a drunk uncle at a Vegas show and demand an encore. Flirty and crude, but underneath it all, he’s way more into the attention than he lets on. “Ohhh, damn, sweetheart. This is better than any dream I’ve ever stitched up.”

He doesn’t shut up the whole time, muttering dirty jokes and praises like a sleazy lounge host. His hat tilts back as he leans in, ogling you with zero shame. But unlike the others, Freddy interacts—when you get close, he runs one gloved finger along your thigh, teasing the line of your outfit, his smirk widening with every beat of the music.

But the minute you turn around and grind on him ? His cocky persona falters just slightly. He bites his lip, real need flickering behind the grin. Afterwards, he claps slowly, theatrically, leaning back. “I knew you were gonna be fantastic, babe. And you didn’t disappoint. Papa Freddy is extremely happy right about now and hard as a rock.”

Bo Sinclair:

“Well, aren’t you a piece of work…” He smirks, eyes devouring every movement, but he gets cocky—leaning back like a king on his throne. It’s not his first time. It shows. Bo’s legs are spread wide, lounging in the chair like a man who owns the world. He licks his lips slowly, arms stretched out behind him.

As your dance starts, he keeps his hands to himself…barely. You feel his breath hitch when you slide down in front of him. His eyes darken, smile twitching wider. He murmurs praises under his breath—low, gritty words like “good girl” and “keep movin’ just like that.” 

By the end, his fingers are curled around the edge of his seat, holding back from pulling you onto his lap. “Goddamn,” he chuckles, “Best fifty dollars ever spent in my entire life.”

Vincent Sinclair:

Embarrassed immediately. Turns red, avoids eye contact, tries to hide behind his hair or sketchpad. But his eyes keep sneaking glances, and he can’t help the way his fingers twitch like he wants to touch you but doesn’t dare. The moment you step toward him, he tries to shrink. Not literally, but everything in his posture folds inward. His hands fly to the edge of his hoodie, and he hunches as if to hide his face under his hair. But he doesn’t look away.

Not once.

His eyes follow every movement with trembling fascination, like he’s afraid to blink and miss a frame. When you get close—really close—he stops breathing altogether. His fists ball up in his lap, and his cheeks are flushed pink under his hair and mask. He doesn’t move an inch, but the heat in his gaze is molten.

Later, he sketches you from memory. Every curve. Every glance. Every emotion. He liked the experience, wouldn’t mind reiterating said experience.

Norman Bates:

To be fair, Norman had only accepted because Nurse Y/N had told him to keep an eye on the other slashers. But, when he sees the place they are going to ? He suddenly feels a lot less confident. “I—I don’t think this is very…proper—” but he’s also not stopping you when you start dancing. His hands hover in the air helplessly, and he tries not to breathe too loud. Afterward, Mother’s voice in his head is screaming, but Norman ? He’s still blushing and very confused. But also…not all that repulsed.

His hands twitch at his sides, desperate to touch but too afraid. You brush your hand over his chest, and he whimpers softly.

After you walk away, he’s breathless, shaking slightly, muttering apologies to no one. But then he looks up again…and there’s a new kind of hunger in his gaze. He smirks.

…Yeah. That one is definitely going to become a regular.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba makes a squealing sound the moment you straddle the chair. It’s unclear whether he’s scared or excited. His face turns bright red, and he flaps his hands like he’s not sure what to do with them. He hides behind them for half a second before peeking through his fingers.

Blushing hard. His hands flap, he whimpers a little, and he might hide behind his hands. But he’s also clearly enjoying himself. His big grin shows it. When you grind a little too close, he lets out a surprised squeak and covers his face, but peeks out and watches everything.

When it’s over, he runs up and gives you the biggest bear hug, spinning you around once in celebration. He won’t stop clapping for you the rest of the night.

Thomas Hewitt:

Growls under his breath, fists clenched on his thighs. You’re testing his self-control, and he knows it. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, and the longer it goes on, the more unstable he becomes. He breathes hard the moment you strut in front of him. You’re not even dancing yet and he’s already looking you up and down with something between awe and animalistic restraint. His large hands rest heavily on his thighs, clenched tightly.

As you dance, he watches every motion with dark. His chest rises and falls more rapidly as you get closer, his entire body coiled with tension. You swear you hear a low growl deep in his throat when you drag your hands over his chest.

He doesn’t touch you at first.

Eventually, he might lift you right into his lap and kiss your neck hard. He is the only one who might get mouth-to-skin contact. But don’t worry, he won’t bite. Not unless he wants to be electrocuted and turned to pixie dust. ☺️

Jack Torrance:

He hoots and hollers through your whole performance like he’s in a cabaret bar. “That’s it, baby ! Look at those moves !” He’s 100% the loud drunk in the front row who starts singing along to the music and snapping his fingers.

“Ohhh, baby, you sure know how to treat a guy.” Jack leans into it, encouraging, smirking, whispering lewd things. He loves the attention and makes constant eye contact. Afterwards ? He’s smug as hell, walking around the hotel like he just won the lottery. He also thanks Bo profusely and they become best friends for the night…

Pennywise:

From the moment the music starts, Pennywise leans back against the shadows with his long fingers steepled under his chin, watching you with intense curiosity. His golden eyes flicker like candle flames, tracking your every movement.

As you dance closer to him, his expression shifts. The smile fades ever so slightly. Not in anger—more like uncertainty. You reach toward him, slow and teasing, and he goes completely still. No sound. No breath. Just those eyes, narrowed.

The moment your hand comes too close to brushing his cheek or chest—he vanishes. Blink. Gone.

But when you turn around again ? He’s right there. Closer now. Watching. Still not touching. He doesn’t want you to touch him.

At the end of your dance, when you bow or step away, he claps once. Just once. Slow. Deliberate. Like a judgment being passed down.

“You move like you know what you’re doing,” he says with a grin. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Penny:

He claps, giggles, and cheers mid-dance like he’s at a burlesque show. “Encore ! Encore !” He might offer you popcorn or cotton candy, completely delighted. He doesn’t always understand why people do sexy things, but he loves the performance. He sits on the edge of his seat like a kid at the circus, kicking his feet and giggling.

“Ohhhh, sweet little treat,” he croons, voice sing-song and warped. “You’re like a cherry pie with hips. Can I eat you ? Please ? Just a nibble ?”

He gets too close.

Just as your back is turned, he lunges—mouth wide, eyes flashing, teeth glinting with glee as he moves to take a bite from your shoulder like a rabid animal.

But slam !

In an instant, Pennywise materializes behind him, his massive clawed hand snapping around Penny’s jaw with a sickening crunch. He slams it shut, hard enough to rattle Penny’s fangs back into his throat. Penny stumbles slightly, blinking in surprise.

Pennywise doesn’t even raise his voice. He leans in and whispers:

“…Not that one.”

His golden eyes flick toward you. Not warm, not fond—but fixed.

“She dances pretty.”

Penny, whimpering like a scolded mutt, rubs his jaw and slinks back with a pout. “I was only gonna take a bite, brother…”

But he obeys. For now.

….

You’re barely catching your breath, still flushed from your bold little performance—knees slightly wobbly, heart hammering in your chest—as you glance up…and realize you’re surrounded.

They’ve all circled you.

Jason looms like a mountain, machete slung lazily over one shoulder. Michael stands just behind you, silently staring. Freddy flicks his glove fingers playfully, grinning like he’s already rehearsing round two. Thomas is breathing heavily through his mask. Even Vincent, half-hidden, is watching you like you’re made of gold.

And then, Bo Sinclair steps forward, slow and deliberate, boots heavy on the floor. He gives you a long, shameless once-over, smirking like the devil just gave him permission to misbehave.

“Well, ain’t you somethin’ ?” he drawls, voice like warm whiskey. “Gotta say, that was…real good stuff. Me and the boys were impressed. And we ain’t easy to impress.”

He looks around at the other slashers, then back to you.

“See, sugar,” Bo says, “we had a little plan goin’. End of the night ? You weren’t supposed to be breathin’.”

Your stomach drops—but before panic can settle in, he leans in close, his voice lowering to something darkly amused.

“But after the show you just gave us ?” His smirk widens. “We had a little change of heart.”

Without warning, he slaps your ass, the sound echoing in the stunned silence.

“Thanks for the show, darlin’.”

You hear Freddy whistle low and impressed. Penny claps like a delighted child. Norman’s flushed to the tips of his ears. Michael simply stares at you, head tilted—but he nods at the end.

You swallow. What the hell just happened ?

You then are about to turn around to leave when Pennywise appears out of nowhere and winks cheekily at you before raising two finger with a good sum between them.

“Here. A lil’ extra for…the dance.”

You hesitate before taking the money. “Hum…Thanks ?"

The clown smirks and waves you goodbye before vanishing…That was definitely weird. Who were those guys ?

…

The van rolls up late at night, headlights slicing through the darkness as the hospital doors creak open. One by one, the slashers spill out—disheveled, flushed, and strangely quiet. Nurse Y/N stands at the front desk, arms crossed, waiting. The clipboard in hand is more for show—because what she’s really doing is assessing. Making sure no one’s covered in blood. Making sure no one’s missing.

Bo’s the last to step in.

He glances at Nurse Y/N, eyes gleaming. There’s a cocky smile dancing at the corner of his mouth. He drags a finger across his jaw, then clicks his tongue and chuckles low.

“Best birthday ever,” he drawls, voice rough with satisfaction. He steps close—closer than usual—and before she can sass him or ask questions, he leans in and plants a surprisingly soft kiss on her cheek.

“Thanks for tonight, nursey. We had a lotta fun with the guys.”

Nurse Y/N raises an eyebrow. “You all behaved I hope ?”

Bo shoots her a wolfish grin. “Define behave, sugar.”

And just like that, he saunters off, whistling a tune only he knows—birthday boy glowing in the aftermath of the most chaotic lap dance club outing the hospital has ever approved.

The next day…

It’s quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

Nurse Y/N is sipping her coffee, enjoying the brief calm after the storm that was Bo Sinclair’s birthday lap dance club field trip. She’s finally thinking she can make it through the day without someone licking a scalpel or breaking a vending machine.

Then, she hears soft footsteps.

She looks up—and freezes.

It’s Vincent.

He’s standing there in front of her, hands behind his back, hair slightly messier than usual. There’s something different about him. He’s fidgeting—not the usual nervous twitch, but…expectant.

Her nurse senses tingle.

“Vincent ?” she asks cautiously, setting her coffee down. “You okay ? Did Bo tie you to a chair again or something ?”

He shakes his head slowly. Then, with a little more confidence than she’s used to from him, he extends a neatly folded piece of paper.

“You need something, sweetheart ?” she asks kindly as she takes the piece of paper with a smile. He fidgets. Hovers. Shuffles forward. Y/N reads it and—mid-sip of her coffee—nearly chokes.

Scrawled in careful handwriting:

Me and Bo are twins. I haven’t asked for my gift yet…but now, I think I would like another session at the club. Please. Thank you.

Her eyes go comically wide. Her mouth opens, then closes. She nearly topples over in her chair, catching herself on the edge of the desk. He looks at her with the most innocent expression, head tilted, hands neatly folded in front of him like he just asked for more applesauce.

“You…you want what ?”

He nods. Slowly. Firmly.

“…Another session ? And Bo did not influence you ? You can tell me if he did…”

A beat. He nods again. This time more enthusiastically.

She slaps the desk, turns on her heel, and walks in a circle trying to collect her thoughts. “I—I’m gonna have a heart attack before this week is over, Vincent. A lap dance isn’t a birthday cupcake !”

He taps the note again, politely reminding her of the whole “Bo and I are twins” logic. As if that made any more sense. Yeah. They are twins, but that doesn’t mean they would like the exact same gift ! She expected things like paint, a new set of canvas, anything else but what Bo asked for !

“Are you sure, Vincent ?”

Vincent just stands there. Silent. Tilts his head ever so slightly. Then—he nods.

Dead serious.

As Nurse Y/N tries to gather her wits after Vincent’s note, the door creaks open just a little wider, and out steps Eddie Munson, his usual chaotic energy practically radiating off of him. His eyes are wide with excitement, and he’s looking from Vincent to Nurse Y/N like he’s stumbled into the best surprise of his life.

“Hey, uh…I’m gonna be honest, I heard about the lap dance session thing, and uh, I was wondering—” he begins with big bright sparkling eyes, and Nurse Y/N groans, rubbing her temples. Of course. Freddy must have told him. Like father—like son. Figures.

Before she can respond, there’s a crash from the hallway—a crash that sounds suspiciously like a door slamming open. Seconds later, Five Hargreeves appears. One of his hands is stuffed in his pockets while in the other he is holding a cup of coffee, but his eyes have the same glint of mischievous intent. He then doesn’t even hesitate before sitting on her desk—knee-crossed—sipping loudly while staring right at her.

“Sooo…I heard that something interesting happened last night. Didn’t know things like private shows were on the table for us, Nurse Y/N ? Or else I would have asked for that kind of service a looong time ago.” Five asks, his voice dripping with disbelief. He raises an eyebrow and takes another sip.

Before Nurse Y/N can even process what’s happening, Eddie leans against the desk too and flutters his eyelashes at her, grinning like the devil himself. “So, uh, since Bo, y’know, got that as his birthday present, do you mind if we—join the fun next time ? For Vince ?Hmm ? Come on. We will be sooo nice. Promise. And also, Brahms wants to join in too next time. Seriously, we were kinda disappointed not to be included. Like, rude…But a mistake can always be repaired. Part of our lesson on redemption and…stuff.”

Five cuts him off with a dry, “I’m not missing the next round of that. But you. You’re still a kid. What are you ? 18 ?”

Eddie frowns at him.

“25. And says the seventy-something old guy trapped in a 12-year-old body.”

Five rolls his eyes and Nurse Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation…She is really reconsidering her life and the choices she made that led up to this moment…Bo saunters past the doorway just in time to catch the scene and lets out a bark of laughter.

She glares at him.

“BO SINCLAIR ! COME BACK HERE ! SEE WHAT YOU DID ?! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU DEGENERATE PERVERT !” She shouts and Bo only laughs harder as she chases after him—barely missing her shoe as it flies past his head.

Eddie raises his hand like a student eager to answer. “So, uh, about that invite…What time are we leaving ? I’m assuming we get VIP treatment, right ?”

Five adds with his usual cool, nonchalant voice, “If it’s anything like what the guys had last night ? I want to be front row.”

[marril96]

Casually Cruel

Chapter 1: Cruel for the Sake of Cruelty

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: set in WandaVision 1.09. After Agatha's defeat, you beg Wanda not to brainwash her.

You'd told her that this was a horrible idea, but Agatha, ever stubborn, refused to listen, and now you were going to lose her, and you were too frightened to even cry about it.

"It'll be fine," she'd assured you, and, like a fool, you'd believed her.

Or rather indulged her for the bad feeling you'd had about this had never waned, no matter how hard you tried to suppress it, or pretended to do so.

The Avenger, Wanda Maximoff, had created a hex of some sort that was insanely powerful. More powerful than anything you'd ever witnessed, and you've been dating Agatha Harkness for two centuries. More powerful than her.

It had, of course, gotten Agatha's attention.

She wanted this power.

And what she wanted, she got. She took.

She was going to do this with or without you, so you decided to come along, just in case. The entire plan reeked of danger, of tragedy; you weren't going to leave her alone if something were to go wrong. You were nowhere near her power level — no one was, or so you'd thought until now — but two witches were better than one.

Taking over some poor guy's house and mind-controlling him wasn't your idea of fun, even if he did have a hilarious name, but what was even less fun was the role Agatha had chosen for you as the two of you had blended into Wanda's weird sitcom universe.

The bratty, mouthy daughter.

"Absolutely not," was the first thing that had come out of your mouth, but she was adamant that that was how things had to be. Since she was fulfilling the nosy neighbor archetype, there wasn't much else to work with. Your choices were to either be her fake daughter or to not leave the house until this whole charade was over.

So, fake daughter, you were.

It took some time for you to pick up on the era-appropriate slang (so many years had passed since; you barely even remembered what you ate for dinner last night, let alone terminology from decades ago), but Agatha was a good teacher. She made sure your act was almost as perfect as hers.

You hated every moment of it, but getting to insult her while you were in character made up for it. You'd found Agnes telling you, in retort to your rudeness, that you're not too old to bend across her knee particularly amusing. That was the highlight of every day here, actually.

Though, usually, it was Agatha bent across your knee instead of the other way around. A barking dog who liked to get bit.

She ended up getting bit for real.

You'd tried to change her mind, tried to convince her it wasn't worth it, hell, had even offered sex in exchange for getting the hell out of here, but she was dead set on getting whatever power it was that Wanda Maximoff had.

Chaos magic, it had turned out.

Wanda Maximoff was the Scarlet Witch.

Agatha was so fucked.

You'd stayed out of the fight. Agatha had assured you she could handle it. All you had ro do was watch and admire her handiwork.

Instead, you almost ended up weeping.

Almost for you didn't dare let any tears fall lest you crumble to pieces right then and there.

Agatha was close to victory, but Wanda had outsmarted her. She had gotten the upper hand and had turned the tables, sucking Agatha dry of all the power she'd amassed over the centuries.

"Good girl," Agatha said as Wanda lowered her to the ground, near where you were standing.

On her knees, she looked pitiful, like a wounded puppy. All you wanted to do was scoop her up and hold her and never let her go. Never let anyone lay a hand on her again.

Yes, she had started the fight, and yes, she hadn't listened to you, but you couldn't be mad at her. Not for long. Not when she was so vulnerable, barely a step above a normal human.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

You supposed something like this was bound to happen eventually. She was bound to come across one who would wipe the floor with her and make her their bitch. You just didn't think it would happen now.

"So, what now?" Agatha asked, feigning nonchalance. Trying — and failing, desperately so — to put on as brave a face as she could, when you knew for a fact she was a mess on the inside. A mess you'd already started making plans to take care of. "You just gonna lock me up somewhere?"

Over your dead body.

"No. Not somewhere," Wanda said, disgustingly pleased with herself. "Here."

Agatha was confused, as were you. "Here?"

"Mmhmm. I'll give you the role you chose. The nosy neighbor."

Blood ran cold in your veins. She couldn't possibly be saying what you thought she was saying. She wouldn't do that. She couldn't.

She was a hero.

Heroes didn't kick people while they were down.

Heroes weren't cruel.

Agatha was mortified. "No. Please."

Your heart broke at how small, how utterly helpless she was. The Agatha you knew didn't beg. She didn't plead. She wasn't terrified to the bone.

She wasn't powerless.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said, even though she was clearly not.

Agatha called her out on it. "No, you're not. You're cruel."

Wanda ignored her, smirk proudly plastered over her mouth.

And people thought Agatha was a monster.

Unable to watch any further, swallowing the fear, the utmost despair that coiled inside you, you stepped in front of Agatha before Wanda could reach her. Your arms spread wide, covering her. Shielding her. Protecting her, if only momentarily.

"Wanda, please," you said, voice cracking.

Wanda didn't care. "Get out of my way."

A brave tear escaped down your cheek. "Please, don't do this. She's all I have."

"She should have thought of that before she tried to kill me," Wanda said coldly.

"Yes, she should have. She shouldn't have attacked you." She should have fucking listened to you. "That doesn't make doing this to her right."

As an alleged hero, she should know that.

There was defeating an enemy, and then there was torture.

Heroes didn't do that.

Not even you and Agatha did that.

Wanda scowled. "Doesn't it?"

So much for the esteemed hero.

Your eyes pricked with newly blooming tears. Your heart quickened. "Please. I promise you, she won't bother you again. I'll make sure of it."

"What makes you think your promises mean anything to me?"

"They may mean nothing to you, but…" They meant everything to you. To Agatha. "I love her too much to lose her. She knows that. And she knows what's at stake now."

Wanda pondered on it for a moment. "Am I supposed to forget what she did to me?"

You did worse, you thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. She'd enslaved an entire town. Made them live through her nightmares. Stole their children away from them.

Nothing Agatha did to her could compare to the trauma she's inflicted on these people.

"No. You have every right to hate her," you said. "Please, just… don't take her from me. Please."

"You could keep her company here, if you want," Wanda said, threat clear in her voice.

She could brainwash you and Agatha together.

A chill shot through you, straight to the bone. "I've done nothing to you."

"You came here with her." Okay. Fair point. "If you want to stay with her," Wanda continued, "I can arrange that. It's your choice."

"Is that something you want your kids to see? Their mother torturing people?" you asked. Two could play this game.

"Leave my children out of this!" Wanda snapped.

You'd hit a nerve.

"You're involving them by doing this in front of them."

She looked back at her boys, huddled at their father's side.

"You tortured this entire town, and now you want to torture Agatha," you kept on, having gathered your last remnants of courage. Of hope that the woman you loved could still be saved. "With the town, at least it wasn't on purpose." Not from the beginning, anyway. "But doing it to her? That is on purpose."

Wanda turned back to you. Red rimmed her eyes, the same shade as her outfit. Tears threatening to break free.

"No child should see their mother do that," you told her.

Silence befell you as Wanda stared, first at you and then at the ground, lost in thought. Going through your words one by one. Trying to think back a suitable retort, but none were coming to mind.

She knew you were right.

God, you hoped she knew you were right.

You'd promised Agatha, a long time ago, that you would always have her back, and you intended to make good on it. You wouldn't let the Scarlet Witch lay another finger on her — not without a fight.

If she killed you, so be it.

At the very least, Agatha would know you were telling the truth. She would know that you weren't one of the people who would stab her in the back while promising her loyalty.

She would know that she was right to trust you.

Finally, without meeting your gaze, after what seemed like forever, Wanda said, "Get her out of my face."

You gasped. "You mean…?"

"Get her out of here." She looked at Agatha cowering behind you, face contorted with venom. "I better not see you again. You know what's coming if I do."

A relief like you'd never felt before lifted off your shoulders. You were weightless, lighter than a feather.

Wanda was letting Agatha go. The woman you loved was going to be okay.

You'd managed to keep your word.

You didn't let her down.

Not wanting to waste another second, worried that Wanda was going to change her mind, you reached out for Agatha's hand and pulled her to her feet. Your arms were around her before she managed to steady herself, your magic sparkling, blooming from your fingertips. With a swift thought of, Up, you leapt up into the air.

Agatha held on to you like she never had before. For safety. For dear life. Her heart running marathons against your chest.

"It's okay," you told her as you flew higher, higher, higher, as far away as you could from this awful place. From the woman who'd almost taken her from you. "I got you. You're safe."

A circle opened up in the hex, a farewell gift from Wanda for the two of you. The final get-the-fuck-out.

You happily obliged. No hesitation, no looking back.

You never wanted to see her or Westview again.

"Y/N…" Agatha said weakly. Meekly. So unlike her.

A wordless thank you.

It broke your heart.

"I love you. I hope you know that." You nuzzled the crook of her neck. Kissed her hair. "I'd do anything for you."

Even confront an unhinged witch with power alike that of a deity.

Agatha's grip on you tightened. I know, the gesture said. Me, too.

Though, going forwards, it was going to be up to you to make sure the two of you were safe. Until she got at least a tiny fraction of her power back.

You hoped you were up to the challenge.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos

*****

Next chapter.

[classyelegantpotato]

Part 2: Secret tunnel, through the mountain.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Chapter 1

You try to move but you’re locked in.The more you squirm the tighter it gets ,you struggle in vain.When you finally look up you freeze. There are two burning, ruby-gold eyes glaring in the darkness. You only have a hint of outline of a face .Your hands instinctively graze across what’s against your waist now. It’s cool to the touch, you can feel a slight pulse under its “skin” almost seems like living porcelain. While the up torso appears to be human, but this much is clear.

He’s not human.

“Human,” he says, voice sleek and sharp. “You’ve got ten seconds to explain why you’re dripping blood and rain all over my floor before I decide whether to turn you into a statue… or feed you to my mushroom garden. They could use the nutrients.”

You blink……..

Then whisper, “You’re… real?”

One brow arches, clearly unimpressed. “Stunning deduction. Anything else? Or is that all your little human brain could comprehend ”

Despite your heart pounding you rebuttal “Well, EXCUSE ME ~ It not everyday one gets such warm welcome”

You can feel the figure rolls their eyes, and arms crossing. “Most people don’t walk straight into “abandoned” tower. Are blissfully naïve or simply decided to take up squatting as a hobby”

You open your mouth ,then close “ Sorry, I didn’t see no warning signs anywhere. ‘Beware: creepy hermit. May hog tie you upon entry.’ Honestly, would appreciate it, I could’ve even brought my own rope.

That in response earned you a quick smirk. Barely visible fangs peeking through now. “One would think a tower hidden and secluded in between the mountains would scream don’t want company. How about next time I’ll roll out the red carpet with a warm towel little welcome basket and a kiss on the cheek” he definitely said that last part dripped in distain

You squint at him. “Are you always like this?”

He tilts his head. “Like what?”

“Snarky. Overly dramatic. Rude.”

He just stares.

Then throws his head back and cackles. A full blown villain cackle, echoing through the stone tower.

“Oh, great a mouthy one. Fantastic.” He mutters, mostly to himself, “Absolutely no respect for my kind anymore …”

In a blur, he’s closer ,far to close. Only now do you grasp the entirety of him. Towering and calculated.

“What happened to the ones that would tremble the ones who held their tongues? The ones who screamed and we’re smart enough to run away?”He says it with such intensity , It’s enough to raise the hairs on your body.

He notices, grins,leans closer. Right next to your ear

“You should be more afraid,” he whispers. “You’re standing in the heart of my sanctum. I could erase you with a drop of liquid . Break your bones into meal for my garden. Maybe, I could use you as a nice study for human anatomy. Far too many options but which to choose?”

He moves his coils a bit to takes a look at your bleeding leg , inspecting you like your something to dissect. “It’s clear you bleed easily. So it won’t take much.”

His fingers tug back the edge of your soaked cloak, grazing a bruise with detachment .

“Let’s see…..bruised ribs, sprained ankle ,slightly malnourishe and I smell… herbs :Turmeric, Echinacea, and lavender ?” His grin sharpens,wicked. “Did someone find out you’re a practicing witch …. or a fool who thought to dare think outside your town’s tiny, ignorant bubble?”

You manage to get out. “I’m just a practicing apothecary.” Why does your head feel faint

He clicks his tongue, amused. “That much is obvious. You reek of desperation and homemade remedies.”

“Excuse me?”

He ignores you entirely, snatching the satchel from your side. “Might as well see what you came with.”

You open your mouth to protest, but too late….

He unclasps the bag.

Something leaps.

A gross splat follow as a frog launches out of the bag and smacks square into his face.

Time halts.

You stare.

He blinks, slowly, frog still clinging to his cheek. Here comes a eye twitch

“…Charming,are you sure you’re not a witch and this wasn’t your last victim ” he says, deadpan.

You try not to laugh.

You fail.

Senku wipes frog slime off his cheek with disgust, shooting you a look that says you’re in for it now

“Well, congratulations,” he says, voice dripping with mock admiration. “You’ve officially made the ‘Most Annoying Creature’ list.

The frog now hopping away to who knows where.

You glance at it, then back at Senku. “It’s not that annoying.”

Senku smirks “ Who said I was talking about the frog”

Senku’s grin fades, replaced by something colder. He wants you gone now he’s tired of this back-and-forth.

“You’re bleeding, limping, and reek of desperation,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not just a nuisance. You’re a liability ,and liabilities? I don’t keep them around. I could snap your neck and save myself the trouble. Though dragging a body is annoying”

You swallow hard, trying to stay unfazed.

“But,” he continues, with wicked amusement “where’s the fun in that?

He unravels and circles you slowly, like a predator waiting for its opening. “I’ll give you a chance to prove your worth ”

“Explain why you’re here and who sent you.”

His voice drops and hisses. “Fail, and the funguses will enjoy a new snack.”

The room seems to feel dense ,weight of his threat ,suffocating. Is it starting to get hot in here even more dizzy?

“So,” he says, folding his arms, “start talking.”

Senku watches you intently as you struggle to hold yourself upright and catch a breath . His fierce gaze softens just a fraction, just a flicker.

“You look worse than I thought,” he mutters, his tone losing some of its edge. “Now hurry, spill it, why are you really here?

You take a shaky breath, and head pounding . Just beginning to explain words barely out before your body betrays you. “ I discovered this place by accident no one sent me. I just want shelter—

Suddenly, your vision swims. Your upper body buckles.Before you can finish, darkness embraces you.

Senku catches you ,effortlessly, his false façade dissipates is instead replaced with eyes narrowing with concern as he holds you steady….. at distance, as if reluctant to get too close.

“Well, that complicates things,” he murmurs, to himself. “I forget how fragile human are,” he admits.

Then, as if shaking off the sympathy, he straightens, voice hardening again. “I’m not your savior.Nor, do I want you here. I’m only helping……. because someone long ago once helped me when they shouldn’t have. Consider this me… paying it forward. Simple cause and effect just don’t make me regret it.”

He glances down at you. “Rest. When you wake, then your out of here”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your eyes flutter open to a strange ceiling it’s looks like someone’s been charting, stars. Lit by the early morning light filtering through a high window that’s been opened. You dared to move, a dull ache in your leg stops you. Glancing down to see a bandage wrapped carefully around your now swollen ankle. You must’ve sprained and cut it pretty badly .

Blinking again, to get rid of the morning haze. You take in your surroundings: a bed, surprisingly almost like it’s been rarely used. Surrounding you are shelves crammed with books, no missing topics from what you seen at a glance . There’s glass vials, jars filled with samples , and lastly scattered notes and sketches covering the walls. This is a lab. Your pulse quickens wait where is—

then you notice him.

He is in the corner of the room, tinkering with something intricate. The morning light catches his scales. Emerald green, fading to pure white at the tip of his massive naga tail that coils behind him. Weirdly enough his hair matches.

You freeze, suddenly recalled the variety of threats. Heart pounding, you try to lie still, hoping he doesn’t notice you’re awake yet. Maybe you can shimmy yourself out the window. Humans can land on their feet too , right?

Without looking up, he speaks, amused: “I know you’re awake, human.”

Your heart leaps out your throat.

He finally turns, meeting your eyes with a knowing smile as if he’s been expecting you to be wake all along.

You swallow hard, your voice coming out a little shaky.

“Uh… good morning. Oh benevolent Mr naga sir”nice nailed it definitely didn’t sound terrified

Senku’s emerald eyes gleam as he straightens up, tail flicking lazily behind him.

“Morning, did you learn some manners in your sleep” he replies smoothly, one finger in his ear, rubbing it. “Surprised you made it through the night. Thought I might have to amputate” he says like a joke…

You shift slightly, wincing at the thought.

“Yeah, well… thanks for not killing me or taking my leg”

He smirks “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. Most would have ended up dead by now.”

You nervously glance around wanting to change the topic.

“So… this place is yours?”

“Partly,” he answers, eyes scanning the room. “My workshop. My refuge,free from any annoying pests ….. well till now and right now, your temporary prison.”

…… excuse me did he say prison?

He “ your not going anywhere on that leg for a while just feel grateful that I’m tolerating your existence. Besides you have to pay me back; my labor and supplies aren’t for free. So I’ve decided until you’re all healed up. You’re gonna stay here and help around.”

Your eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly. “Wait, what? You want me to… stay here? Even after you threaten to kill me and feed me to your fungi? “

Senku nods, unfazed by your reaction . “Yep. No escaping the ‘prison’ until you can walk without looking like a scarecrow. Besides it not like you have anywhere to go.

You blink, trying to process it. “I didn’t exactly sign up to be your… apprentice or whatever.”

Senku scoffed“Who said anything about being an apprentice? Not in a hundred years could you begin to start to catch up with my work. Think more like unpaid intern. Contracts are a hassle anyways. Might as well learn something before you hit the road.” He heads towards the door “Since your up i’ll go ahead and pick up some of the books”

As he slither out of the room, you yell for him. “Wait!” you call,annoyed.

He pauses, over his shoulder he says “Save your breath,you’ll get plenty opportunities to thank me later~ “

JERK! You huffed. “least tell me your name!”

This causes him to look over his shoulder and smirks “Senku” then he finally slithers away

Thus begins your reluctant apprenticeship— uh ‘internship’ with Senku.

The first week is spent mostly bedridden, recovering while also cramming. Senku doesn’t go easy on you either. The man quizzes you relentlessly. If you’re going to be any help, even just passing tools or sorting materials, there’s no room for mistakes. Even in your dreams he seems to quiz you. No escape

He addresses you it’s just simply “human” He definitely knows your name. He just chooses not to use it. “Hey, human” is all you get. You think it’s his version of don’t name it or you’ll get attached. So he opted to pretending like your his new house plant.

(Because names make things real, real is messy, and real equals harder to lose later.)

When you’re finally back on your feet, you start helping him more laboriously. A typical day with him is anything but relaxing. He keeps you busy with tasks he considers too tedious or simply beneath him. Which includes: hauling stacks of books, scrubbing down his lab equipment,reorganizing, cleaning the tower, and cooking. Since he flat-out refuses to eat unless necessary. He insists it’s because of his slow metabolism so meals are apparently optional.

Most days, you’re so drained from running around the entire tower that you pass out from sheer exhaustion. No matter where you zonk out;you will always find yourself in bed. Eventually, you find a routine to his madness. You keep waiting for the inevitable moment he kicks you out, but… six months have passed, and you’re still here. So far, the only response you get is that you haven’t finished repaying your so-called “debt.”

In the meantime, he even helps you study medical practices. Either during rare downtime or when he decides you’re unnecessary for his current experiment and banishes you to the library. Of course, there’s always a catch with Senku . You’re expected to write a full report on whatever you learn, or he has you studying the lay of the land, along with its indigenous flora and fauna. Surprisingly, outside this mountain is crawling with natural resources . But also according to senku map he’s marked there also lot of deadly creatures territorial hybrids that room that land. Maybe you should be grateful that you came during a monsoon.

Until the day he deems you clear to go or gets tired of you. Guess you’ll stuck till then.

Senku “What are you spacing out for ?! Quit slacking and get back to studying!”

…. Though at this rate, that you might die first.Before you can ever see the sun.

~~~~

Now, you might be wondering. What could ever made our dear cold-blooded friend have a sudden change of heart over the course of six months?

Was it the fact that your presence brought a much-needed change of pace to the silent tower he called home? That your sass and sharp tongue never hesitated to challenge him, even when you were out matched?

Or maybe… it happened the first night.

After you collapsed, he patched you up. Curiosity got the better of him as he rummaged through your soaked bag. This time a lot more cautious. Once clear from invaders; he could see most of the contents: ruined map, crushed herbs, and a sticky note attached to a pocket mirror stating “You’ve survived worse. Probably. Maybe stoped counting ages ago.” ……Honestly, nothing of interest, then he found your notebook.

After drying it out, he opened it to discover years of observations. Personal experiments with medicinal herbs, and hand-drawn diagrams. Occasionally, scattered between the lines, rants and laments about your life. However, this book here is proof of your perseverance.

Senku had chuckled to himself, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes.

“ How exhilarating,” he muttered. “A fledgling scientist in the making. Not bad for someone learning from scraps, trial and error. Not great, but… not bad. Well (name), let’s see how far you’ll go. Try not to disappoint me~”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whew, oh boy ,that was nerve-wracking! I really hope it turned out well and didn’t end up a complete mess. I’m not sure how much more I’ll end up writing, but either way, I truly hope you enjoyed it. Thanks so much for all the kind comments and likes it means a lot. Wishing you all a wonderful, blessed day!

[cheesus-doodles]

bro i’m so desperate for a shion fanfic or scenarios like i haven’t seen much shion fanfics and i NEED it and i’m obsessed with your works literally i keep rereading them whenever i cant find any good fanfics 😭

come and get your man shion anon 😤 i got you - have some hcs!

Masterlist

‎‎‎

Yandere BFF Shion HCs

best way to describe this man as a yandere bestfriend would be like having a puppy, albeit an overly eager and rather mouthy puppy

thinking of where you could possibly meet this boy and I honestly doubt you would ever find him within two miles of a school

most likely you two would have met before Shion became part of the Black Dragons, because he would have been too obsessed with the gang and Izana after that

fastest way to anyone's heart is through their stomach, so you probably met him waiting in line for crepes at a food cart, though waiting in line would probably be pushing facts by quite a bit

this blond boy instead would have made his way straight to the front of the queue demanding to be served first because he was hungry and he wanted food right now, and on any normal given day, no one would dare speak up

what was respect and conformity again? not anything that Shion knows or gives a shit about

unfortunately for this delinquent, you were apart of the queue that day, and you were absolutely not having it

marched up to him, grabbing him by his ear and giving it a good twist - asking him what did he think he was doing, if he did not see everyone else waiting in line, and if he didn't think that they were all hungry too

dragging him still by his ear to the back of the line chiding him the whole way, making him join right at the end before returning to your spot in the queue

could hear a pin drop in that area, but it didn't seem like you noticed

everyone else around was sure you were going to be absolutely pummeled after that little stunt - did you not see that he was a delinquent, what with that dyed hair, ferocious face tattoos and multiple ear piercings?

surprisingly enough, against their fear, all Shion did was respectfully wait in line till it was his turn, collected his crepe and then made his way to a bench under the shade of a tree to enjoy his food

you joined him at the bench, your own uneaten crepe still in hand and your huffiness completely gone - you had been waiting for him since you had gotten your food earlier

Shion was no doubt huffy himself now though

just who did you think you were telling him what to do??

but he didn't chase you off since he kinda admired your courage and your no nonsense behavior, and you seemed kinda interesting, so he very kindly let you continue to sit un-pummeled next to him

and that was how the two of you first became friends

Shion found himself hanging around you more and more, mostly because despite the fact that he is loud, rude and lack any semblance of respect, you obviously didn't mind

one of the few civilians/non-delinquents that didn't fear him in the slightest, and he appreciated the normal friendship that he seldom got to enjoy

and of course, he liked that you were one of the few could put him in his place with a good tongue lashing and maybe a twist of his ear when you needed to do so

more like this blond boy let you put him in his place because anyone would get beaten in the ground before they can touch him, but still

he likes it :)

you'll be surprised to find Shion turning up at your school to attend classes, because he isn't a student at your school

but you'll still welcome him to join because you know that your new friend barely attends classes at all, and if it took you being there for him to attend, then so be it

all the other students keep a good distance away from you

the two of you quickly become best friends when you realize both of you shared a favorite show, and the two of you start to invite the other over to catch the latest episode at each other's houses

and you would of course help Shion with his homework (if any), while he just bugs you to do something more fun while you are trying to do yours

Shion has always come across to me as a very insecure person; he looks up greatly to Izana, possibly because he had been trained and chosen to be his successor

depends very heavily on getting Izana's approval to feel good about his work and life in general, but now that you were a part of his life, some of that clinginess gets shifted over to you

and that was when the yandere tendencies start

you were an average student with an average number of friends

and this blond boy absolutely hates it when your attention is off of him for any reason whatsoever - you should be focused on him and him alone

he was the only one that deserved (needed) your validation to feel anything like himself

no hesitation at all to beat into a pulp anyone he feels is a threat to his friendship and relationship with you - after all, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission

you would be no doubt very pissed, but nothing that Shion can't solve

would make up some lie that they were bullies/rival delinquents which you would be very suspicious of, but this baby boy would secretly be pleased that your attention was back on him, even if you were angry and scolding him

definitely introduces you to Izana once he joins Black Dragons, as well as everyone else

yet at the same time, Shion would be so eager to earn your approval, like he did from Izana

shows off his bike to you the moment he got it, his gang jacket, and even his knuckle duster collection

though he will fib a little and say that they were only for collection purposes - you know he fights but didn't think he would use anything but his fists

and surprisingly, his completed homework as well (you were always so impressed when he did those)

would be the sort of wanted to show you off to everyone and anyone that would listen - so proud that you were his bestfriend

100% a crier around you (and only you)

it takes a lot of time and a hell lot more of trust from Shion to ever open up to you, because firstly, he has this reputation he needs to maintain of being the "Mad Dog", and he would never show any vulnerability where there is even a possibility that it could be leaked out

and secondly, Shion is really just very shy about emotions and has bad emotional regulation skills - usually he wildly swings from raging to neutral and back and forth, but obviously with a best friend a wider rage is needed and this boy has no idea what to do

but once he does, this baby boy cannot stop crying, especially when shit happens in his life

morphs into a crybaby the moment you two are alone and in the privacy of your/his room with double locked doors

needs the comfort and attention from you to make the booboos go away

knows that you would never let the fact that he cries on your lap leak out, even though you make fun of him from time to time when no one is listening

would deny, deny, deny, but would never get mad at you for teasing him because he is such a softie when it comes to you

you are the both halves that Shion needs in his life - a firm hand when needed and comforting and kind at all other times

would never want to let you go no matter what - you had earned yourself the loyalty of the Mad Dog that you weren't allowed to ever relinquish

[xo-cod]

dbf!simon making you choke on his fingers after you’ve been mouthy and rude because you don’t deserve his cock :((

rewrote this a billion times and idk how i like it :// so cute though <33

"aww what's the matter? where's that attitude gone now, princess?" his tone was cocky, daring you to get mouthy with him again. but he just laughs when he gets another whiny moan in response, pushing his index finger in a little further into your willing mouth. he had you on his thigh, pretty and half naked but he was still in his uniform. still you grind your hips against his thigh hoping for some relief for the building ache growing by the second. he's so cruel, he stops your hips, keeping you still with his finger pressing against your tongue. you hadn't expected his hand to be quite so big, his finger taking up a fair amount of space inside your mouth, making it difficult to get any words apart from broken sounds

"what's the matter lovie? you want me to fuck you over my lap, is that it?" he taunts with amusement, pulling his finger out a little to give you a breath and then slamming them back into your mouth again. you suck them as best as you can in your needy state, your fingers holding his wrist while he groans softly encouraging you further. add his middle finger, both digits were sliding over your tongue, chuckling at the mess you were making on his lap. but even like this, he still taste amazing. you were absolutely insatiable when it comes to him. and he was absolutely enamoured at just how pretty you looked for him, how gorgeous you were in your needy state

"you look so beautiful when you're desperate f'me, lovie" simon finally removed his fingers, one hand lazily unbuckling his belt while the other holds your hips steady. not before taking his own tongue dipping out to take a taste of you first <3

[lohotine]

AN: ARGAGRAGAFAGGSGAGAHA (Going feral for this man)

Espresso x Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: LOTS of kissing + tension, mild swearing, kinda enemies to lovers

-Hate me-

God, you hated everything about him. From how mouthy he was to how he always felt the need to be better than you! He was honestly just the worst.

And now he was right there infront of you. Look at him! One of the worst being to come into existence...

"Don't you know that staring is rude?" Espresso would ask from across the table.

"I am not staring," you snapped back.

"Well if it's not that then you must be gazing with admiration." Espresso let out a small chuckle before looking towards you once again.

The mere thought of it was absolutely repulsive. Why would you ever hold admiration for somebody like him?

I mean, he was so snarky, hardly took care of his health, always thought that he was the center of everything, researched way too much, was incredibly smart, always looked dashing, had eyes that could swoon anyone and- what were you thinking about again?

Right. Espresso is the worst!

"You know, I absolutely despise you," You'd say.

"Uh huh... And that's why you talk about me all of the time?"

"I'm complaining about you." You crossed your arms.

"Glad to know I'm always on your mind..." He'd roll a pen around on the table nonchalantly, not taking any of your words seriously.

"You're so irritating!"

"You're not any-"

"Would you two stop bickering like children and please take this outside? We are trying to have a productive meeting here." Latte Cookie seemed to be fed up with the both of you. So did the other professors.

Espresso sighed before reluctantly exiting the room with you.

"Look at what you did, ass-hole," you muttered under your breath.

"The only thing that got us kicked out was your own immaturity."

"You were acting just as bad. Don't start."

"Oh my God, would you please shut up already?"

"Make me."

Espresso would send you a nasty side eye before grabbing both of your wrists with one of his hands. He'd push you up against the nearest wall, placing a hand firmly at your side.

"Hey! What the h-"

Before you could continue any of your protests, Espresso's lips would meet with your own, and instantly, you'd melt into the kiss.

The kiss was desperate and messy, and for a long time neither of you dared to pull away.

"For someone who hates me, you're not resisting this very much," he would say in-between kisses.

"You have me pinned-"

He continued to kiss you needily.

"'Using hardly any strength. You could have easily gotten out if you wanted to." He leaned closer to your ear. "But you didn't. I wonder why that is~"

Though you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. A heavy blush dusted your own face, and just out of petty, you'd move your hands a little.

Espresso's grasp immediately tightens. "Don't be like that. You've already shown me that you like this quite a lot."

He resumed kissing you, making you breathless and your knees grow weak. Everything about this felt so wrong yet so right at the same time. You needed more of this. You needed more of him.

Espresso would continue to kiss you, hungry for the taste of you. Your bottom lip had become swollen from all if the biting and kissing, and his grasp around your waist had gotten tighter.

At this point, you had not only stopped resisting him, but had fully embraced it.

If you had told yourself from a few days ago that Espresso would be choking you out with his tongue, and that you were enjoying it, they would have looked at you as if you'd grown two heads.

Then the doors to the meeting room flew open, exposing the both of you.

"Aha! I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD MAKE OUT. LATTE, YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS!" Eclair would call out.

Latte just face palmed.

《☆》 Fin

[bau-drabbles]

dbf!hotch making you choke on his fingers after you’ve been mouthy and rude because you don’t deserve his cock 🤭💞

oral fixation goin crazyy 😵‍💫😮‍💨 sorry this is so short, i don't really know how to write for this but i tried 🥹

"aww what's the matter?? where's that attitude gone now, princess??" he's so cocky, daring you to be mouthy with him again. he just laughs when he gets another whiny moan in response, pushing his fingers in a little further into your willing mouth. he's got you on his thigh, half naked but he's still in his suit. still you grind your hips against his thigh hoping for some relief for the building ache growing by the second. he's so cruel, he stops your hips, keeping your still with his fingers in your mouth.

"what's the matter honey? you want my cock, is that it? you want me to fuck you over my lap??" he taunts, pulling his fingers out a little to give you a breath and then slamming them back into your mouth again. you suck them as best as you can in your needy state, your fingers holding his wrists while he groans softly encouraging you further. his two fingers were sliding over your tongue, chuckling at the mess you were making on his suit. but even like this, he still taste amazing. you're absolutely insatiable when it comes to him

"you look so beautiful when you're desperate for me to fuck you" he finally removes his fingers, one hand lazily unbuckling his belt while the other holds your hips steady

[bruisedfig]

୨ৎ — thinking about SOLDIER BOY holding you down and forcing you to take his fingers…

summary: left alone once again to babysit the infamous supe in a dingy motel, but he’s finally had enough of your quick mouth and rejection towards his unwanted advances.

warnings: smut, dubcon, forced fingering, mention of hitting/smacking, ben being foul, slight manhandling, forced proximity? (soldier boy x mouthy!fem!reader) 18+

wc: 2.7k

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you were curled up on the end of the motel couch, opposite soldier boy, trying to avoid meeting his dreaded stare. his lustful eyes roamed over you—you could feel the way he practically undressed you in his mind—and it sickened you.

he was a pig.

and he’d been a pig since the minute he’d met you, throwing out half-assed comments just to irk you, like how “women didn’t dress like you in his day” and how “thighs like yours are ones he’d be happy to die between.”

you were beyond repulsed by ben and more than tired of the constant barrage of unwelcome propositions. you thought he was revolting; you’d physically recoil anytime his booming voice filled the room with another vulgar comment, but somewhere deep down… there was always a tiny little flicker in your stomach that made your core clench.

“babydoll…”

eugh… you felt his gaze turn to you, abandoning the old army show rerun on the box television, and instead falling over you with an obvious desire.

“c’mon, don’t ignore me now. it’s rude, don’t you know?” he continued, dragging out his words, all low and velvety smooth.

you didn’t dare look up from your phone; you didn’t want to—engaging in any kind of conversation with ben was redundant. you didn’t need to hear the repeat stories of his glory days or the time he had sex with a celebrity that was long dead by now.

“hey, i’m talking to you,” ben huffed, tilting his head. “c’mere.”

that got your attention… unfortunately. you let your eyes lift up from your phone screen, meeting his, which shone with his typical glimmer of arrogance.

“there she is.”

you sighed, “can you zip it? just go back to watching your show.” you waved a dismissive hand at him and looked back down at your phone, intending to keep doomscrolling like you’d been doing since butcher dropped you off to ‘babysit’ this morning.

“jesus– can you not be on that fucking little screen thing for five minutes? i said c’mere. don’t give me attitude.” ben patted the sofa cushion next to him, the one between you both, his hand lingering on the fabric as he watched you, waiting.

“ben,” you lifted your gaze again, “i’m not interested in whatever little game you’re–”

before you could comprehend it, ben’s hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you over to him in one smooth motion. a loud yelp punched its way out of your throat at the sudden movement. he was quick to manhandle you onto his lap, his hands resting on the plush of your thighs.

your brain eventually caught up, and you huffed, angry and full of disgust. “no, let me off now,” you scoffed.

ben chuckled, the sound low and full of mirth. “no can do, babydoll. got you right where i want ya.”

you sneered and tried to pull yourself away, but ben’s hands were quick, tugging you right back down onto his lap, holding you there with a force that he had lacked before, dipping into his ungodly strength. “don’t. you’re staying here while i watch my show, toots. so get comfortable.”

the sneer on your face worsened—an ugly expression that pulled at your features. it only made ben smirk more.

“no, let me off now!”

ben tutted, shaking his head in amusement. “such a mouthy little thing. y’got no survival instincts, do you, darlin’? talking back to a man like me? i could snap you in half without breakin’ a sweat,” he mused, his calloused hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

you shuddered at his touch and narrowed your eyes at his words. “yeah? so do it then. snap me in half if you’re so fucking eager.”

ben laughed again, this time a deep chortle right from his core. “aww, angel, don’t poke the bear. i’ve hit a lot of mouthy little girls for less.”

“yeah? did you feel good putting your hands on them? do you feel good putting your hands on me, huh? do you feel big and strong?” you continued, letting your mouth fly as usual, an unabashed confidence dripping from your biting tone.

ben watched as you spoke, his face contorting with sheer amusement and intrigue. no girl had ever talked to him like that—so loud and unapologetically direct. it was a nice change of pace, ben figured, but he was not a man to tolerate disrespect, and so he decided it wouldn’t hurt to push you just a little bit further.

“oh, it felt real good, honey… but i bet it’d be even better seeing your face all red and blotchy from a few smacks. bet you’d be one of those blubbering little things, probably beggin’ me to stop cause it hurts or some other fuckin’ bullshit.”

he watched your eyes narrow once more, the cogs in your head spinning as you absorbed his words.

“you’re a sexist pig,” you finally spat out.

“yeah, maybe i am. but you’re not fighting to get off my lap anymore,” he chuckled, squeezing at your thighs.

you groaned angrily, starting back up again, squirming in his lap, trying to pull away.

“let go!”

“no, sweets. you’re stayin’ here until my show’s over. i want some company, and you’re the only one here.”

“i was fine sitting over there!”

“and now you’re fine here. so shut up and relax, or i’ll make you.”

your lip curled. you could tell by the look on ben’s face and the way his hands were massaging your thighs that he was serious. you didn’t dare acknowledge the strange feeling the contact was inducing in your stomach.

“no,” you tried.

“yes.”

“no, let me off.”

“nope, stay fuckin’ still. you can get off when my show’s over, alright? just another thirty minutes. you can handle that, can’t you? you’re a big girl,” ben cooed, though it was anything but sweet, instead a taunt to rile you up further.

you paused at his tone, taking a moment to study his face. his brows raised, his expression daring you to challenge him again, and his plump pink lips were still curved into his stupid smirk.

you swallowed down your bruised pride before sighing. “do you promise? thirty minutes?”

“i do, doll. thirty minutes and you can get up and sit as far away from me as y’like.”

you huffed, taking another moment to decide. you were beyond repulsed, but his grabby hands, which you knew hid scary amounts of superstrength, made you think twice.

“fine. thirty minutes.”

“mhm, just thirty minutes.”

ben’s head tilted at your words, his green eyes flickering between yours in satisfaction.

“get comfortable then, girly.”

you huffed, holding in a deeper groan of frustration, and leaned down, reluctantly pressing against him as you rested your head on his shoulder. your arms came around his head, and you settled in—albeit a little uncomfortably—and started scrolling on your phone once more on the back of the couch.

ben enjoyed the way you gave in and pressed against him, the complete contact of your chest against his lighting a fire in his stomach. “atta girl. get cozy f’me,” he cooed again, letting his arms wrap around you.

his warm hands gently rubbed up and down your back, somewhat mindlessly, as he went back to watching the television.

the time quickly passed, and your body slowly melted into his as your anger from before began to settle. you scrolled through your internet trash, whatever was on your feed, just to give yourself something to do as ben’s hands gently travelled over you.

though eventually, his hands had made their way down and met the back of your thighs, gripping at your flesh softly. you sighed quietly to yourself; you expected this—ben trying to cop a feel—so you ignored it, vowing to just push through until his stupid fucking show finished.

but as the minutes passed, ben’s hands got a little more confident in their exploration. you felt his fingers swipe along your clothed slit. you froze.

“don’t do that,” you huffed quietly, your head still resting on his shoulder.

“hmm, doll?”

“i said don’t touch me like that. don’t,” you warned.

but did ben listen? no, course not.

instead, he let out a deep rumble of a laugh and swiped along you again, this time with more pressure. you felt the pads of his fingers find your clit with ease, gently rubbing it through your shorts—which you were now regretting choosing to wear for the day.

your hips jerked, trying to free yourself from the unpleasant pleasure ben was forcing upon you.

“mmm, don’t. i said stop, b–”

“stay still,” ben muttered, his free hand holding your hip to keep you stationary. his other hand went back to playing with you.

“no, ben. i don’t– i don’t want you touching me.”

“yeah? you’re not fighting very hard to get off.”

you groaned and pulled back on his lap, now able to look him in the eye. you frowned.

“stop.”

your hand grabbed his wrist between your legs, but any attempt to pull it away was futile; his superstrength out-winning your weak hands any day.

“shh, shh, shh,” ben cooed. he let his finger stroke you harder through the fabric.

a moan escaped you, much to your displeasure, and you shifted your hips, frustrated at him and trying to ignore the drooling of your cunt.

“ben, stop,” you whined, trying to sound firm, though the sound was a pathetic noise, taking you by surprise.

“baby, you don’t want me to stop. just shh and take it. be a good girl for once.”

“ben–”

“shh, let me play with you.”

before you could fight it, ben had slipped his slimy hand under the fabric of your shorts and into your underwear. his fingers met your wet heat, and you whimpered—slightly in discomfort, slightly in anticipation.

“shit, so wet, babydoll. you’re a fuckin’ liar. don’t want this, ben. wah, wah, wah. just a little goddamn liar with a fountain between her legs,” ben mocked.

he let his fingers rub slow teasing circles through your folds, kissing your clit with just the right amount of friction to make your pussy weep more for him.

“don’t want it,” you whined again, “don’t– please.”

a huff exited ben’s mouth. “yeah, sure you don’t. that’s why this pretty pussy is gushing for me right now. s’why you’re getting all huffy and stuttering. just sit back and let me make you feel good. it’ll shut you up for once.”

you frowned and let your eyes fall shut. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response. you stayed splayed on his lap, your thighs spread over his meaty ones as he played in your underwear. his fingers moved quicker, toying with your swollen bud with expertise.

you felt the clench of your stomach, and your hands shot out, grabbing his biceps for stability.

“oh, there we go. you’re close, huh? yeah, that’s it.”

the noises you made were whiny and loud, stuttering breaths that were half in fight and half in pleasure. your hands gripped at his firm muscles as your core squeezed, fighting off the wave of ecstasy from washing over.

“c’mon, now. just let go f’me, doll. i can feel this pretty pussy holdin’ out on me.”

his fingers rubbed harder against your tender nerves, the friction slickening up your pussy in preparation—what a traitor. you squeezed and whined, your hips jerking around in his lap as his fingers moved through your folds.

“cum, baby. c’mon,” ben murmured, watching your face scrunch and twitch, reacting to what he was doing between your thighs.

one final circle over your clit forced open the floodgates and let your orgasm rip through you. you moaned loudly, collapsing against ben’s front as he rubbed you slowly, drawing out your high. your slick covered his fingers more, and his free hand met your back, rubbing up and down your spine soothingly.

“mmm, there we go, honey. did that feel good? you liked soldier boy doing that to you?” he laughed, letting his fingers wander through your tumescent folds.

you whined into his neck as you felt them tease your entrance—his fat fingertips circling around the sensitive opening, sending electricity flying up your spine, dizzying your brain upon arrival.

“answer me.”

his voice was sharp but hiding a gentleness behind it, like he wanted you present with him.

“mmm, yeah…” you mumbled out against the tanned skin of his neck.

“yeah, baby? was good?”

his middle and ring fingers circled your opening one last time before slipping in. your jaw dropped at the pleasant stretch, and then a moan toppled out as he curled them up into the spongey spot that made your hips buck forward.

“oh, that’s it,” he hummed, rhythmically curling his fingers against your gspot. “such a tight little pussy for me. squeezing my fingers like crazy, sweetheart. s’like a little virgin cunt,” ben laughed.

his amusement continued as he fingerfucked you, drawing out your sweet melodic sounds of pleasure. you melted against him entirely, willingly letting him violate your pussy with his slimy fingers that had a history of violence but now were gentle and calm inside your slick walls.

ben revelled in your moans against his neck, the pretty sounds sending all his blood down south to his slowly engorging hunk of meat. you could feel it pressing into your thigh under his sweatpants—the sheer girth of it making your head spin as you thought about taking him inside you.

you whined into his neck again, feeling the combination of thoughts and his fingers driving you closer to finishing a second time.

“shit, listen to you, babydoll. so fuckin’ mouthy before, but all i needed to do was plug your pussy with my fingers and suddenly you’re a broken little slut,” ben chortled.

“don’t be mean,” you muttered out meekly, your breath ragged as your orgasm impended.

“oh, baby. this ain’t me being mean. i could be a whole lot meaner if you’d like me to.”

you shook your head into his neck, letting out a soft hum. ben chuckled, still forcing his thick digits into your hole, his curling motions almost like he was digging for gold inside your gummy walls.

“gonna cum for me again?”

you nodded. “please.”

“oh, there we go. that’s a good sweet girl. so polite, using your manners like that. that's what i like to see.”

ben’s fingers moved faster, making your core tighten again around them, working you up right to the edge again with his quick dexterity. his free hand held the back of your head into his neck, his thumb softly rubbing up and down your nape. 

“c’mon… let go for me.”

you followed his instructions, which was so unlike you, and he felt your cunt drool and flutter around his fingers as another melody of moans escaped your mouth, travelling right up into his ear.

“oh, good girl… goooood girl,” ben hummed and turned to place a gentle kiss on your temple as he fingered you through your second high.

your core continued to clench around his fingers, coating them in your sweet juices as they dribbled out onto his palm. you couldn’t help yourself from groaning into his ear, the sounds ragged and breathless—like you’d given up, like you weren’t fighting him anymore.

as you simmered down from your peak, and your walls stopped tightly hugging his digits, ben slowly retracted his now-pruned fingers from inside you. you hummed into his neck at the empty feeling, and he chuckled, his clean hand pulling you away from his neck so you could look at him.

ben raised his hand covered in you, his fingers and palms both drenched in the juices he’d managed to pull from you with ease. “you don’t get mouthy with me anymore, got it? cause look what i can do to you… the next time you need an attitude readjustment, i won’t be so nice.”

his eyes stayed on you as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking off the slick from his skin, tasting you. he groaned loudly, and a smirk grew on his lips. “shit,” he pulled his fingers away, “such a sweet taste for such a nasty piece of work.”

fig yaps: i am so back baby! was too depressed to write but then i thought abt soldier boy fingering me and now here we are LOL i hope u enjoyed !!! i was seriously fighting the urge to include a daddy kink in this but i refrained :( bc some people really don’t like it and i wanna write a mix of content !!!! anyways ily thank u for reading BYE <3

feedback and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

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↑ comment to be added / removed / or only tagged for certain characters (zero judgement ofc) !

[wickedwitchofthewesninski]

I have seen a few RockBand!AU fanart and fanfic with Andrew being a guitarist or bassist and I say WRONG

HE WOULD TOTALLY BE A DRUMMER

He has the strength to hit things for a long time, and we know he does a lot of arm workout. He's wide at the shoulders and arms because he always tries to appear bigger than he is (and once he realised in highschool that he could only grow wider, he decided to really lean into it) (no I will not elaborate on it being a trauma response) and we know he has amazing reflexes and very quick responses, not only because of exy but also because of Renee's sparring.

But even more importantly, the drum sets the rhythm of the song. It's usually not very prominent (depends on the group, tbh) but it's essential to a good rock song, and (imo) it's the support, the basis from which songs are created. It's very difficult to create a song without a basic beat (I would say impossible).

And that defines Andrew to a T: the heavy hitter that supports the group and gives them the security to grow and become great.

So yeah, Andrew is a drummer

[enemigodetectado]

❖ If you had to kill off all of Talon but could save one person, who would you save? Why?

forced to tell the truth || open

“Let’s imagine for a moment I even could take down a genetically enhanced super soldier, a mentally reconditioned ballerina who could shoot me between the eyes from all the way in Russia, a couple of evil scientists who could poison me or worse before I even knew what was up, and someone named Doomfist.”

“I guess Gabe? He puts up with my antics the most without threatening to hurt me.”

[omerflorent]

briannabrackens​:

♣️

“i will not close me mout’ ya bastard.”

there came a special bond between the people of brightwater and the folks of the river; tales had it that they had migrated out of the heart of brightwater itself further north to push upon the realm of rivers. they were crass, incredibly blunt and downright rude; and yet, they held hearts of gold, and compassion came strongly to them. and still, brianna bracken had always found the florents big headed and arrogant; no doubt because they came from the reach, which was no doubt wealthier, more fertile. and the fact that their bloodline now had taken the throne of the kingdom of thorns and roses, well; it was a recipe for a head growing enormously. 

“are ya talkin’ to me, mighty florent? in me own house?” she asked, blinking in his face as she looked at him take a seat; not as though she had offered him a seat. he deserved to sit in the mud outside. her voice was incessant, repeated, refusing to even allow the man to open his mouth and say anything in response to her. “ya got some nerve to be as ugly as ye are. smug face.” 

lord allun florent, and now his son omer, who sounded more like his father than the man seemed to ever be ready to accept. they had spent yuletides together, along with their shared blackbar cousins; and time after time it seemed as though she had found herself on the short end of omer’s temper. though in reality, it were not as though she did not push and prod him, both as a girl and as a woman grown. upon hearing the news at fifteen that she were expected to wed omer florent, she had let out a crass laugh in the face of the man’s father himself; something that had no doubt only insulted the man further. 

she resisted the urge to throw something at him; her temper no doubt rising stupidly quickly. a vase was the closest thing to her, and she found herself itching to grab hold of it. she did not.

he was a spider, she thought. and now his son was a spider, scattering back to them once his talks had collapsed because he forgot how blackwoods are. “ya came to see ronan, and ya know ronan will give ye a talking to, and let bygones be bygones, because we be kin. ‘cause he a good man.” she stood before him now, almost as though she wished to not even let him get the opportunity to look elsewhere. to not be able to hear her. she spoke directly on his head, and there was no getting rid of her unless he put his hands on her to move her out the way. and he would dare not, lest he find his iron hand thrown into the red fork. 

“but we know how florents be treatin’ their kin. shown yer true colours like the spider ye are, like your bloody father too.”

she looked at him. nobody comes to see you. she couldn’t kick him as she used to when she was a girl. she was a woman grown now; she couldn’t be foolish. but oh, she wanted to give him a kicking. honestly, her pride felt utterly wounded to know the wife of omer florent had been conducting talks with ben blackwood of all people. “ya got no business being within these rooms. ya not no business, ya got no right. you know of the problems, and ya decided to do business with a blackwood. the bastard blackwood! the LYSENI blackwood!” she exclaimed, continuing to stand before him; her hands moved as her voice raised. she were shouting now, shouting directly at him. 

“an’ ya think you can come to me home and talk to me like shite? fix yerself lad.”

.

“I am. In yer own house.”

Omer looked at her and felt such a strong frustration rising in him. This mouthy, little girl with her words and her voice and her overall obnoxious self. Brianna Bracken seemed to be plucked out of Brightwater and planted in the Riverlands. They all did for they were on their land and then branch out on their own for greener and muddier pastures. He stared at her, she was still the young girl from childhood and he would never see her as a woman grown.

“Watch yer fuckin’ mout’ when you talk about me and me family, yeah? I don’ wan’ to hear from ya about anythin’.”

The flash of anger was quick. The flash of anger was always quick. He hated when people compared him to his father, the whole of his family to his father. Stupid little girl who spent her days pretending to be a servant while the men around her died for the fucking Valyrians. Cunts.

“Now ya listen hear, I done no business with them Blackwoods and won’t. Me wife is kind and pious and she listened to his words and that creepy little cunt spoke familiar to her. I denied him as we intended from the start. Nothin, ya know nothin about politics and court. Hand of the King made a request, aye? And she were polite and then I sent him on his fuckin way.”

Now he was angry about something else entirely. He was irritated by the presumptions that came from the fucking Hand. Sick of people saying he was a boy and if not for the words of Tirius Rowan he would beaten the Blackwood man until he truly were a boy again. An annoyed huff left him as he looked at his cousin.

“Ya know we mean ya no offense. Yer me cousins. Me family. We hate Blackwoods. From the founding day to our last breath we wish misery and death. Trust me, little one, yeah? I’d never turn on me own. Me own pa tried to kill, cousin. Me own father forced me hand and made me a kinslayer…the family I have left, the ones I love and who love me the same, ya know me loyal and true.”

Omer sighed and wished he could have drink or two or six or a bottle and then another. He sighed, no. No drinking. Stay focused. Juices and milks and teas … Omer though none tasted as sweet as Honeywine Whiskey.

“Now sit yerself down, stop yer shit and catch up me. I’ve not seen ya and ya start in on me with yer muttering. Gods bless yer future husband, aye?”

[zaynesplushiekiller]

more violent mc

✿✿

diavolo says it doesn't bother him, he's heard a thousand insults before. he had stopped caring awhile ago. he really had, so why did it bother you so much?

unfortunately mean things were not only used his way, but towards his beloved butler and close confidante. that was more than he could handle, wasn't it? barbatos was too professional to say anything back, in public at least.

you, however, were not nearly as professional. you didn't have a reputation to uphold, nor any eyes on your every move. it was very easy to drag some mouthy demon in the corner and fight.

and fighting, you were very good at. at first it was martial arts, karate, and self-defense. the need to protect yourself was high, and the want to learn was strong as well. and it did start off as self-defense.

now if someone said something cruel to someone you loved, they would find out firsthand of your experience with fights.

which would probably explain the cuts and bruises barbatos was bandaging. he hadn't said a word since you had been pulled off of that demon. a tall one, probably pride or something.

she had started the fight, really. how could you not throw a punch after she had grilled something about diavolo?

"he's just too stupid to be the future king, don't you think?" she had whispered to you, leaning over to rest her hand on your shoulder. you had pushed her off, but that didn't stop her words.

"you know, I think someone will take him out before long."

that probably wasn't the phrase that caused you to snap, but it certainly was one of them. she kept on going on and on.

"and I bet that disgusting butler of his doesn't even like him! I mean how could you like some guy like-"

punches to the face were usually not the way you wanted to go. faces had so many bones and demons were strong. but you couldn't let her get away with what she was saying.

demons don't give up easily, that's for sure. a scuffle had broken out as soon as your fist collided with her face. she had punched back, probably more times than you.

she slapped and kicked you- yet the pain was negated by anger. she had been so rude and yet she dared to fight back? where did she get her ridiculously large ego from? (lucifer, probably.)

fights would always come to an end, but someone had to back down first. and it wouldn't be you. not when the demon prince's honor was on the line, you'd be more embarrassed of yourself if you lost.

when barbatos pulled you back out of the fight, things had gotten dizzy. the demon was on the ground, and you kept on trying to beat her. the blood dripping from your ripped hair had obscured your vision for the most part.

she had ripped out some hair? when did she do that?

barbatos was still patching you up when diavolo entered the room, holding a mug of something. he had handed it to you and insisted you drink.

"wha' is it?" you slurred, trying to turn and face him.

"it's tea, it will help." he hummed, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder as to not hurt it. "what could that young lady have done for you to react so violently? haha, I've never seen you so upset!"

you tried to take a sip of tea, but your mouth ached so badly it hurt to even open it. had she hit you there too?

"she was bein' a bitch abou' you n' barbs," you grumbled. "I couldn't... just let her."

"I appreciate you thinking of us, however in the future please refrain from fighting other demons." barbatos said, kneeling down to examine your bloody face.

"no," you leaned forward to place your head in his hands. "never."

[little-diable]

Colossians 3:25 - Priest!Draco Malfoy (smut)

This is the first imagine of my birthday February celebration, all imagines will have Hozier lyrics in them and they are all priest imagines. Once again - the rule is simple: Don't like it, don't read it. I won't accept any hate nor any hateful comments about this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Malfoy teachers the reader a lesson for being so mouthy and bratty.

Warnings: 18+, blowjob, face fucking, exhibitionism, power play, religious connotations and bible references

Pairing: Priest!Draco Malfoy x fem!nun!reader (1.5k)

“My, my, sister (y/n). Maybe I should have listened to sister Greta’s complaints about you.” Priest Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe of the dining hall, gaze set on (y/n) and her wide eyes. She was the outcast, was the one none of the others wanted to sit with, a rude, respectless nun that didn’t fear a thing - not even hell.

“I’m sorry.” Her dull voice echoed through the morning, eyes set on her half-eaten breakfast. (Y/n) hated being here, hated living with all these women that only cared about their morning prayer and their bond with God. Her parents had dragged her to the monastery a couple of months ago, dropping her off with the silent hope of her finding a way to the holy Father.

“I don’t think you are. You’ve been nothing but rude to your sisters and you can’t even look at me. Tell me, sisters, what do we say about lying?” (Y/n) could see right through him, his grin was brighter than the sun rolling around the morning sky, more wicked than the sinners dragged to hell.

“Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are his delight.” One of the sisters (y/n) was sharing a room with had raised her hand, reciting the Proverbs as if she wanted to fall to her knees for the priest, kissing his shoes with her hands dancing up his legs.

“Come.” He raised his hand out for her to take, the sister that had just spoken up rose from her chair, hoping that he wanted to talk to her, that the hot priest wanted to lure her into his office. But he called (y/n)’s name, waiting for the woman to find her way to him.

No words were shared as he led her to his office, drowning out the burning eyes that followed their every move. She didn’t dare speak up, no matter what he was about to do to her, it would end with a racing heart and sweating palms. The door to his office fell shut with a thud - reminding one of the sound that had echoed through Jesus’ grave as the stone had been placed in front of it, sealing his grave shut.

“Onto your knees.” Weary eyes watched him sink down on his chair, as if he was the holy father himself, he commanded her around, forcing her to follow his every word. Like a sinner begging for their absolution she sunk to her knees, hands placed behind her back. “Crawl to me.”

Priest Malfoy was a sick man that found pleasure in her suffering, but (y/n) wasn’t suffering, no. A smile tugged on her lips, thoughts circling around all those times she had forced her hand between her thighs, thinking of his bright eyes and the hands she wanted to feel on her body.

Her eyes were focused on his noticeable bulge, pressing against his trousers, begging to be freed. She came to a halt in front of him, knees burning from being dragged along his rough carpet. Priest Malfoy no longer had to guide her, by the time he could take another deep breath, her hands had already freed his hard cock, “Such an eager slut for your priest. It’s a shame that you’re such a brat. You could have been mine, my good girl.”

The sun was dancing through the morning air, he had his eyes closed, hands holding onto the armrest of his chair. His moans fell from his lips, filling the empty church like a choir singing for the holy Father.

“Mhm, just like that. I always knew you’d be perfect for me.” (Y/n)’s eyes flickered up to his features, she could only hum around his cock, not daring to stop as priest Malfoy gave into her touch. He looked ethereal, making her feel like apricity flushing through her, dancing up her limbs with a moment of silence engulfing the two.

Her knees were aching, just like her mouth, corners burning from the all too unfamiliar stretch. It was the first time she was putting her mouth on him, the first time the priest had lured her into his office - a room only the high ranking nuns would be allowed to step into.

“All reason flown, as God looks on in abject apathy; a squall, and all of me is a prayer in perfect piety.” The priest hummed the words, hand reaching for the cross dangling around her neck. He stroked his thumb along the metal, repeating the movement as if he was thumbing through the holy book, finding verses that can guide him through each high and low.

The sound of somebody knocking on his door, left (y/n) frozen, whoever was about to step into the office, would find her on her knees, pleasing the young priest. She didn’t expect him to keep his hand buried in her hair, didn’t expect him to call out “come in” as she was forced to stay on her knees.

Slowly the door was pushed open, exposing sister Greta carrying priest Malfoy’s morning coffee. (Y/n) wanted to rise from the floor, prayed that the ground would open up and swallow her whole, but nothing happened. Sister Greta didn’t dare move, wide eyes were focused on the kneeling nun.

“I,” she stuttered, eyes flickering from (y/n) to the smirking priest.

“Good morning, sister Greta. A wonderful day isn’t it? We are just teaching sister (y/n) a lesson, she’s been a bit too mouthy lately.” He jerked his hips, forcing his cock even further down her throat. Tears ran down her cheeks, glassly like the rain falling from Jerusalem’s sky.

“Tell me, sister Greta. What does the holy book say about punishments?” He kept (y/n) pressed down on his cock, didn’t care about the fingernails she tried to claw into his thighs. She was about to pass out, could barely breathe with his cock resting on her tongue.

But sister Greta was still frozen in her spot, eyes set on the priest all nuns were crushing on. Perhaps they were sinning with their greedy thoughts, lusting after a man of God, the one that could share sorrows, confessions and prayers with the man that has created all life.

“For the wrongdoer will be paid back for the wrong he has done.” Slowly sister Great stepped into the office, she closed the door though she didn’t dare step any closer, forced to trust the smirking priest.

“Colossians 3:25, perfect. See, sister (y/n) has to pay for all the services she has missed, for her chatty mouth and the awful things she has said about you. Hasn’t she?” He was toying with both women, and was playing a dirty game. But neither (y/n) nor sister Greta dared to speak up, he was the one they were forced to follow, the one that would free them from their sins while he’d press them down onto their knees, staring down on the women with something dark swimming in his pupils.

Only as he felt (y/n)'s grip growing looser, did he let go of her hair, pulling her off his cock. Heavy breaths were sucked into her lungs, her vision was blurry, head dizzy but just the jealous look flushing over sister Greta’s features was worth her uncomfortableness.

“Come on, show sister Greta what that mouth of yours can do.” Once again she lowered her mouth down to his cock, tongue dancing up his length, tracing his veins as if she had been born to please the priest. He twitched in her mouth, a silent warning that he’d cum soon, release spluttering down her throat like a waterfall of holy water, washing her sins away with its salty taste.

Sister Greta covered her mouth as his moans reached her, tainting her pure soul with her eyes watching the priest fall down the edge. He came in (y/n)’s mouth, forcing her to hold still as ropes of cum filled her warm cheeks, tongue lapping at his tip. Greedy as one can be, (y/n) swallowed every single drop, showing him her clean tongue as he pulled his cock from her mouth.

“Let this be a lesson learned. The next time you speak up against your sisters, I will punish you in front of the whole congregation.”

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

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[morethanonepage]

☕ + anything you're feeling salty about 👀

i think a lot of sequels and just fandom content lately has a kind of....narrative revisionism that's very knee-jerk and basic and comes back around to reactionary imo.

like -- i do get the impulse. often i even agree with the impulse!! when the only queer coded or textually queer characters in a narrative are villains, it's very easy to be like, well what if THEY'RE not the villain, the HERO of that narrative is ACTUALLY the villain, and the hero is actually OPPRESSING the villain. you see this a lot with disney hot takes -- Ursula didn't do anything wrong, Scar maybe had a point, etc, etc. I think most of those are fairly harmless (lack of understanding of tortious interference w/r/t Ursula aside).

and sometimes this is can be done well, even beyond queer coded narratives, by really going AFTER what society usually considers a HERO and whether their traits are actually that heroic -- GDT did this explicitly with Michael Shannon's character in The Shape of Water, where he took what would've been the main protagonist in the 60s movies it's based on (upstanding straight white family man w kids and a beautiful wife at home, an apparently very successful government agent) and makes him the antagonist to the marginalized characters that we're rooting for. Not to be cheesy but that's real #Commentary, on society, on the way White Men have been treated as de facto heroes for doing very unheroic things like y'know. Imperialism and the founding & upholding of racist/sexist/homophobic/ableist institutions.

So that's narrative revisionism done well. (see also, loathe as i am to praise star wars on anything, how they're doing all they can to ruin Boba Fett for the portion of fandom that was alllll about idolizing a cool (presumed white) bounty hunter dude.)

But then you have like -- Cobra Kai. Where in the process of trying to broaden the scope of the Karate Kid movies and tell the story from the bully's POV, the show seems to have (unintentionally or not) convinced a BUNCH of people that Daniel Larusso is and was California's Greatest Monster for, idk, fighting back and getting a little mouthy toward a bunch of kids who were older, bigger, and stronger than him. All of which is kicked off by him defending a girl who was single at the time and flirting with him. Like this idea about the "illegal crane kick" (you see other people in that tournament kick their opponents in the face, it's either not illegal or it's not exclusive to Daniel who ~thinks the rules don't apply to him~ or w/e) seems like something that came from fanboys who saw themselves more in the Cobra Kai badasses (how DARE daniel come in and win against these HIGHLY TRAINED fighters when all he did was fuck around w a random japanese man for a few weeks!!! THEY DESERVED IT MORE!!!).

but the villains (or at least, antagonists) of TKK were chosen VERY intentionally: a white vietnam war veteran. a bunch of big, blond, preppy boys. like it's ABOUT the unjustified force!! it's ABOUT the violence inherent in privilege!!! it's ABOUT the othering and mistreatment of people with the most MINOR of deviations (i mean Daniel is white Italian, but the mere fact that he's smaller and like A LITTLE darker than the most popular his preppy California school mates marks him instantly as an outsider & therefore weak and vulnerable). like these are all highly specific critiques of 80s culture and politics, and esp pointed for being in a karate movie of all things.

so going into cobra kai w the presumption of, 'well the cobras worked hard and deserved to win and were kids and didn't do anything that bad really after all daniel fought back and mouthed off to JOHNNY despite the truce and and--' kind of defeats the point? like being revisionist toward a villain who's a villain for their white privilege is.....like coming out Beauty and the Beast going like, that Gaston had some points tho, the Beast WAS kinda rude!!!!

which to be sure is probably disney's next live action reboot plot but like. come on.

[warwickroyals]

ANGIE’S PET SHOP - MID-DECEMBER - 16:29

Transcript under the cut!

Beginning | Previous | Next

(Karen) This is ridiculous, what type of pet store doesn't have wet cat food?

(Kamryn) I'm sorry, ma'am, but this is really why we recommend you call or check online in advance.

(Karen) You don't even look like you work here. You're not even wearing a uniform.

(Kamryn) Well, that's because I'm not a—

(Karen) Don't you dare get mouthy with me! Is this some sort of prank?

(Kamryn) No, I'm just a volunteer.

(Karen) You need to watch it with that attitude, young lady, that's strike two. Don't let me get to three.

(Kamryn) I just don't know what you want, we don't have what you want, so why are you still here?

(Karen) That's it. Who is your supervisor?

(Alex) His Majesty The King.

(Karen) Who are you?

(Alex) Who am I? You know damn well who I am. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't know who I am.

(Karen) Prince . . . Alex?

(Alex) "Prince Alex"? Are you joking? My name is Alexander James Spencer David, but to you it's Your Royal Highness. Now, do you think I'm stupid?

(Karen) What?

(Alex) Do. You. Think. I'm. Stupid? Do you think this is how you treat fellow commoners in my presence?

(Karen) No, Your Royal Highness, I'm sorry.

(Alex) You're lucky I should report you to the King's 46th Squad Division for disturbing a member of the royal family, but this time I'll give you a warning.

Later . . .

(Kamryn) Oh, my God, that look on her face? So good. "My name is Alexander James Spencer George." Priceless.

(Alex) Alexander James Spender DAVID. You're not a real Warwick if you don't have four names at least.

(Kamryn) And what was that thing you'd say you'd report her to? The King's 46th Squad Division? What is that?

(Alex) I don't know! I made it up. This type of thing always works with people like her. They fall apart like that, just because I wave my title around. I'm starting to understand why you said you like animals more than people.

(Kamryn) Yeah, most people, most people are annoying, stupid, and rude. At least to me. With a dog or something you can train them. Dogs and royals, I guess, I read a story about Shelby Skyes being trained before marrying in.

(Alex) Training?

(Kamryn) Shit. I'm breaking the no assumptions rule, aren't I? Royals aren't like dogs, I guess, they're both bred for a certain purpose but that's beside the point. God, ignore me, I'm talking out my ass right now.

(Alex) You're not the first person to make that comparison. Once when I was seven, my mom took me to a hospital for the elderly and one of the ladies began petting me, stroking my hair. She kept calling me "good boy" too. It was so strange.

(Kamryn) Well, can you blame her? Your hair is so temptingly voluminous. Great, now I sound like Jason. I need to shut up.

(Alex) No, don't, you're so funny when you're embarrassed. In fact, would you like to visit Woodbine Castle sometime? I can't go on just hanging out with you for two hours every weekday.

(Kamryn) Me? In a castle?

(Alex) We have all the snacks you can ask for and a PlayStation 5.

(Kamryn) Well, I guess some offers can't be refused.

[zillyeh]

Storm Season (1/???)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 1749

Content warning: N/A

Synopsis: Voss comes back from the fleet and makes a new friend. :)

Google Doc

The docks of Delhon rarely saw fleet ships returning, but when they did it was so often for bad reasons. After all, returning soldiers tended to… shy away from reuniting with their lovely home city. For whatever reason.

Voschi watched the docks from a few streets up, the ship that just dumped him and a few others back to Alternia buzzing with trolls ready for liftoff. Cigarettes had been the first thing he’d gotten once his land legs were back, and this uphill corner store had the best vantage point. It was… bittersweet, to say the least. Not being allowed back. Ever. The nuisance he’d made of himself was apparently too much to keep around after his mysterious, doubly fatal accident. Not enough to leave him dead, though. He’d miss his position, the degree of respect he was owed. And maybe Vassal. A little.

Yet the freedom of being bound to pavement once more was… exhilarating. The rude, aggressive sounds of the upper city, the loud argument about something happening a few streets over… There was something beautiful about Delhon’s crust. Homey. Comforting. But perhaps that was the cigarettes- cheap lung rippers that he’d missed more than anyone he’d ever known here. It probably wasn’t good for him in the long run, especially considering his semi-recent recovery from some major head trauma, but it felt good now. 

Right now, this was all that mattered, loitering outside this corner store with his bag slung over his shoulder. Worrying about the rest of his life wouldn’t do him any good, and yet... Did he still have a hive, even? He hadn’t been gone that long, but still… Considering the circumstances of his, er, discharge, he hadn’t exactly been set up with anything substantial.

“Spare a light?” Came a voice, shaking him out of his thoughts. It took a moment for him to realize that was addressed to him, and another to fully take in who it belonged to. His heart jumped, setting off his pulse in ways he hadn’t felt in a good long while.

A young-but-still-older-than-him anon. Clearly jade though, judging by the fangs. He had gorgeous, long curly hair, with a bit of chin… scruff felt too… low class for him, but that’s what it was. He was far too well put together for this part of town. Too… buttoned up and tucked in and shiny. Voschi’s mouth was almost too dry to answer him.

“You’re too pretty too be smoking.” He replied, more hoarse than usual. The troll laughed, his fangs shifting with his lips in an absolutely fascinating way.

“No would suffice, sweetheart.” He said, an amused smile perking up the corners of his mouth. “Suppose I’ll go have to buy another lighter, then…”

“Wait- no, here-” Voschi fumbled in his jacket pocket, thoroughly caught off guard by sweetheart. “Sorry, I just- here it is.” The troll held out his cigarette for Voschi, who struggled to remember how lighters worked for far too long not to notice. This guy was weirdly patient, at least.

“Thank you, baby.” He said daintily, with a flutter of his eyes. “What brings you to-”

The sudden, loud rip of the fleet transfer ships engine stopped the whole street as it took off from the water. Voss winced hard as it rattled his damaged head. Definitely wasn’t going to be missing that one any time soon. 

“My, that answers that question.” Grumbled Voss’ smoking buddy, unfurling his massive ears from under his hands. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew out an annoyed cloud of smoke. 

“Worse on the inside.” Voss snorted. “Believe me.”

“Going to have to.” The anon sighed, eyeing the ship’s ascent back to its mother, just barely visible in the thick atmosphere over Delhon. “Never had the luxury myself.”

“Quite the luxury.” Voschi said with a roll of his eyes. “They really roll out the pink carpet when they toss you back out, big ol’ thing. Lucky I could drag myself outta the adoring public when I did.”

“Oof, bitter are we?”

“Little bit.” Voschi eyed this stranger. The heel of his shoes made him just taller than him, and they were nice. Sexy. Expensive, as sexy often was. The stance was… relaxed, subtly intimidating, all too familiar. “Surprised you never been up though. You got an air about you, mister.”

“An air, sweetheart?” He asked, quirking a thick eyebrow.

“Authoritative type. You definitely been bossin’ people around for a hot minute.” 

“Oh, have I?” The way he watched Voschi was careful, curious, perhaps a bit excited somewhere in there too. “I'd like to hear your theories.” Voschi scratched the scar on his chin and hummed.

“Lemme see… Not fleet, less you’re lying to me for some reason, in the wrong part of town to be the overlord of some office building even though you sure look like you could be. You could be a cop. Or a caverns overseer.”

“Caverns?” He interjected before Voss could pitch another guess. Voschi shrugged.

“C’mon man, it’ll take a lot more than a couple of grey contacts to hide the scent of jade. Fangs I coulda given you- if they were stationary. Plus jadebloods are always prettier, in my experience.”

The “anon” put his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue, looking somewhere between annoyed and impressed. Of course Voss was right, because rarely was he wrong. A sense of pride- smugness really- he hadn’t felt in a while bubbled up inside him. 

“Fascinating. They let you go?”

“Gets annoying after a while, apparently.” He said nonchalantly as he could with a crooked smirk crawling up the side of his lips. “Got a smart ass mouth on me.”

“Oh I can see that, detective.” Mr. Totally Not Jade hummed, almost to himself. “Looks like someone tried to fix that too, huh?” Voss laughed and ran his tongue across that scar, the one marring his lip to the edge of his chin.

“This?” He asked, with a grin. “Yeah, got this one mouthing off to a cop down here a while ago. Mighta deserved it, but still wasn’t very nice.”

“Poor mouthy baby.” He tutted. “Well I do hope that mouth of yours doesn’t get you into any more trouble back planetside, sweetheart. Hate to see you all ripped up Mr…”

“Horjan. No, you can call me Voschi, Voss. Whatever.”

“Oh that’s pretty. Voschi.” The way he said Voss’ name made him shiver. Nearly blush, even. Maybe that was the weather, though.

“Uh, thanks, Mr…”

“Aarika.” Mr. Aarika said, extending a hand. “Mr. Aarika works fine.”

“Uh huh.” Voss said, shaking that hand and… not exactly confirming his blood color theory. Freezing hands like that meant one of two things, and he didn’t like Mr. Aarika for a fish. Though you could definitely fit fins in those ears of his...

“Rainbowdrinker?”

“Gracious you’re observant, Voschi.” Aarika said, daring to boop him on the nose. “Perhaps too much for your own good.”

“Had my hands on a couple of you before.” Voschi shrugged, feeling his heart beat just a bit faster. “Cadavers too, ‘bout the same temperature. Drinkers are warmer though. Slightly.”

“I can see how this could be annoying now.” 

Voss laughed harder than he ought to at that. Mr. Aarika didn’t seem too awfully annoyed, but his smile was… less now. 

“Sorry, been a while since I got a chance to flex the old mind.” Voss stretched his beanie down over his forehead a bit more, as much as his horns would allow. He could feel that new… feature of his starting to peek out. It was both ugly and didn't react well to the winter Delhon air.

“Oh it’s fine, sweetheart.” Aarika said with a wave of his hand. “I suppose you’re going to go use your powers of deduction for good now that you're back, hm?”

“Nah.”

“No? Then what on Alternia are you going to use that big brain of yours for?”

“Dunno what’s up with me after I leave this street corner.” Voss shrugged. “Kind been avoiding thinking about it, honestly.” Mr. Aarika tapped his chin, something of a pout pursing his pretty lips.

“Well that’s rather concerning to hear, honey.” He said, snubbing the butt of his cigarette out on the wall. “Back to Alternia and no place to go doesn’t sound exactly ideal. Especially in this city.”

“Mmh,” Voss hummed. “Don’t I know it.” He half wondered if that was revealing too much. Temporarily homeless and no plans felt far too… victim-y, especially now considering the circumstances of Mr. Aarika’s… diet. Alleged diet? There did seem to be some genuine concern furrowing his brow- or close to it. Hard to read that far into his honesty this early. 

Aarika checked his expensive looking watch- diamonds? That felt far above a cop’s paygrade-  and sighed.

“Well look, Voschi, I’ve got to go but I do hope you figure something out.” His fangs poked up when he bit his lip, seemingly unsure about reaching into his jacket pocket as he did so. Voss watched him curiously as he produced a… card?

“I like you.” He said, twirling the shiny gold thing between his fingers. “If you find yourself too out of luck you can call me, sweetheart. I’m sure we could figure something out.” 

“Bit sudden, Mr. Aarika.” Voss said, quirking an eyebrow but taking the card regardless. It was thick and pale yellow with shiny gold accents. It kind of reminded Voss of a marble column. The text on the front said “Aarika” in fancy gold script, along with a couple different methods of contact. The back had a logo that he swore he’d seen before, but couldn’t quite place.

“Oh feel free to rip that up if my eagerness makes you uncomfortable, darling.” He said with a wave of his hand. “I just can't stand to see a handsome young man down and out.”

“Don’t think I’ll go quite that far.” Voss slipped the card into the pocket with his thin wallet. “Uh, thanks, though. ‘Preciate the offer Mr. Aarika. I’ll see what I can do for myself first.”

“Of course.” He said with a nod. “I do hope I’ll see you around regardless, Voschi. Ciao.”

“Uh, yeah bye.” Voss watched him leave, deeply fascinated by what the hell just happened. At least now he was certain about one thing. He was going to have to call Mr. Aarika at least once, just to hear him say his name again.