#sacrifice me if you’d please sir

[wriokitty]

U know I’m down bad when he leaves me to fight monsters alone and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest

[watermelongirl01]

In Between Kisses

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Summary: What you and Aaron did back in Colorado follows you to Virginia.

Content Warning: Violence, fluff, not a lot of supernatural on this one though. It contains pieces of S6:E4, but with my fixes.

Hotch watched you from across the room, sitting at Prentiss's desk, laughing and chatting with her. Your skirt had ridden up just enough to catch his eye, but it was your smile, radiant, effortless, that held his attention. If this were a beauty contest, Hotch was certain you'd win. But it wasn't just your smile that captivated him. It was the way your pink lips seemed to draw him in, pulling his attention every time, as they had ever since Colorado. The kiss you'd shared for good luck was still vivid in his mind, and ever since, he found himself unable to look at you without thinking about it.

He knew it was wrong, so wrong. You were much younger, with a promising career ahead of you, full of life and potential. And yet, the only thing that had consumed his thoughts since that moment was kissing you again. And he was determined to make it happen, before leaving for the next case.

——

“We need to help them.” 

“They haven’t requested our assistance, Pen.”

“They never will, but they need it.” She took your hands between hers while looking at you hopefully. “Please, please.”

“Fine, let’s do it.” You sighed in surrender.

Ever since the kiss in Colorado, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Hotch had been avoiding you. Maybe, just maybe, you’d crossed a line. You hadn’t expected it to happen, at least not yet, but at that moment, with your life on the line, you’d wanted, no, needed, to kiss him before the chance was gone. And, if you were honest with yourself, you loved every second of it. But that didn’t mean you wanted to force yourself into his space or disrupt his cases, especially if he was actively trying to avoid you.

You grabbed your bags, previously packed, and followed Penelope as she led the way to Hotch’s office.

And there he was, his trademark frown firmly in place. He looked up at you both, his stern look and a hint of intrigue in his eyes. You let Penelope speak first, stepping back, well, more like hiding slightly behind her. You didn’t want to suffer Hotch’s intense stare, the one that made you feel as if he could see straight through you.

“What's that?” He asked looking at the bags on your hands 

“Our go bags.” 

“Where are you going?”

“With you, hopefully.” Penelope quickly replied. “Sir, I think we’re all still reeling since JJ is on vacation, and you need a communication liaison.”

“Garcia…”

“Sir, please hear us out, our jobs overlap with JJ’s the most.” She looked at him, voice steady. “Every time you are out in cases, she coordinates your needs with me. It makes sense.”

“Garcia, there are aspects of the job for which you have no training.” 

“But I do.” You stepped away from Penelope, moving right in front of Hotch. You swallowed hard. “I know how to interact with families and local law enforcement, and the media.” Hotch’s eyes flicked to yours, and you met his gaze

“You hate to deal with the media.” He said flatly. You rolled your eyes at his read of you, of course, he knows everything about you, but nodded. It was true; you hated it.

“Sir, I’m willing to tone down my wardrobe choices, we are ready to make sacrifices if you please give us the chance.”

"Wait, you’ll actually use neutral colors?" You raised an eyebrow, surprised. Then you looked back at Hotch. "That’s how you know it’s serious," You added with a smirk.

Hotch's gaze lingered a bit longer on you, before shifting back to Garcia. but he finally nodded.

“Alright. We could explore this on a trial basis until JJ returns. We’ll see how things go.”

“Are you two up to speed on the case?” He asked.

“Yes.” You both answered in unison.

“Can you be ready in three hours?”

“We are ready now.”

He nodded. "See you on the plane." He turned to Garcia but then looked back at you. "I’ll need to speak with you first."

"Oh, shit." You mouthed under your breath but quickly nodded. "Yes, Sir."

You watched in confusion as Hotch closed every single blind in his office. When he noticed you standing far from him, he gestured for you to come closer.

“Closer,” He said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed. "Sir, if this is about the kiss... look, I’m really sorry." Before you could say more, he raised his palm, silencing you.

“It is about the kiss,” He said, his voice low. You swallowed hard. “But I figured, before you leave today to act as our communication liaison, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

You frowned, confusion clouding your mind as you tried to make sense of his words. But then, his breath brushed against your face, shutting down all your thoughts. His hand cupped your chin, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to look up at him. Your knees trembled when his thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip.

“You want me to wish you good luck?” He asked. You nodded, unable to trust your voice.

Your heart raced as his lips pressed against yours in a soft, fleeting kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut, but Hotch wasn’t satisfied with just a peck. He deepened the kiss, his lips capturing yours with an intensity that left you breathless. It only lasted a few seconds, but when he pulled away, you felt a sudden emptiness. A soft whimper escaped you before you could stop it.

“See you on the plane,” he said, his voice colder now, as he turned and left the office. You stood there for a moment, stunned, before you slowly opened your eyes, unsure of what had just happened.

What the fuck just happened? 

——

“Swingers?” you asked, clearly confused. “How does that go wrong?”

Everyone in the room, except for Emily and Derek—who hadn’t arrived yet—looked at you with surprise.

“I mean, I’m not into that, obviously.” You raised your hand defensively. “I’m just curious.”

“Apparently his partner left or cheated, so now he comes back to revisit old patterns to see if they still work.” Spencer explained to you.

“And when he finds that they don’t, he’ll be compelled to destroy them.” Hotchner added and you nodded in understanding. “And anyone engaging in them.”

“And yes, we know you’re not into that, you’re too possessive for it.”  And with that Spencer left the room, leaving in shock. 

Am I?” you asked, looking around the room at the remaining team. “Am I possessive?”

They exchanged looks and decided not to comment on it.

“Cowards.” You said under your breath, but before you could concentrate back into work, your gaze landed on Hotch.“So Hotch.” You began. “This means it’ll be an undercover operation, right?”

He glanced up at you, his expression as unreadable as always. “No.”

“Oh, come on. This case screams undercover.” you pressed, leaning forward.

For a split second, you thought you saw the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant.

“No.” he repeated, his voice firm.

You grinned. “I’m just saying, keep it in mind. Right, Pen?”

Penelope barely acknowledged you, too engrossed in her work to care.

“Busy,” she muttered, almost annoyed, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

You nodded and turned back to your laptop, but after just a few seconds, you couldn’t help it. You looked over at her again.

“Pen, do you think I’m too possessive?”

Oh, if only looks could kill.

——

“I knew it, undercover operation.” You grinned at Penelope, who seemed to be in a better mood today, her outfit bright and colorful again.

Morgan had just barged into the office that had been lent to you at the precinct to inform you and Penelope about the mission. As usual, you could tell exactly what he meant when he said "low profile operation to get the Unsub"—undercover, no doubt.

“Don’t get too excited,” Derek warned, his eyes locked on you as he took a seat at your desk. His smile was smug, a little too confident. “You’re coming.”

A laugh bubbled up as he tossed a set of clothes into your lap. “What? No, no, no,” you said, shoving them back at him. “I didn’t sign up for this, and I’m acting as a communication liaison right now.”

“You aren’t anymore, besides, you wanted in.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But now you are,” he insisted, unbothered.

You sighed in defeat. “Fine, fine. But no offense, bros before hoes.”

You placed a hand on Penelope’s shoulder, giving her a pointed look. Derek crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at your choice of words.

“Really?” he asked, amused.

“Yep. Sisters before misters.” You mirrored his stance, crossing your arms too.

Derek chuckled, but you weren’t done yet.

“Walls before balls,” you added with a wink.

“Are you done?”

“Sis before dicks.”

Derek's amusement only grew, but then he raised a hand, cutting you off. “I’m gonna stop you right there. The operation isn’t with me.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Spencer?” you guessed.

He shook his head.

“Nope. You’re going with Hotch.”

You blinked, surprised but... well, pleasantly surprised. You hadn’t expected that. “Wait, Hotch?”

“Yep,” Derek said, standing and heading for the door with a final grin. “Get ready, and don’t keep him waiting.”

——

“Ready?” Rossi asked, looking at you in your new outfit.

The whole team was about to get into the bar, Derek had already spotted the Unsub and now it was on you and Hotch to get him.

You nodded, your gaze falling on Hotch. “Does he know?”

“He knows.” Rossi assured you.

“Oh okay, I mean it is hard to say if he is okay with it, he’s kinda hard to read.”

“He's okay with it, don’t worry about it”

“But, did he want me to do this with him?” You asked. “Emily is here, she’s better with undercover assignments.”

He leaned his head a bit. “You being there it’s my idea.”

“Well, that makes sense.” You said looking down at your black high heels.

“But he didn’t resist it, not one bit,” Rossi said with a smile, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at you. “Besides, with all the undercover work you’ve been doing with the supernatural stuff, it’s practically in your job description.”

You nodded. “You’re right.”

“Alright.” You heard Derek’s firm voice, cut through the moment. “He’s there in the middle of the bar, he will shoot up the place, and you guys will act as a distraction.” 

You and Hotch nodded. 

“We will keep his focus off the crowd long enough for you to take him down.” Hotch said and then leaned forward closer to you. “Keep your gun in your purse.” 

You gave him a small nod.

“Remember, you two need to act all lovey-dovey like you’re into each other. Make it believable.” Emily reminded you.

“Like it’s hard.” Rossi snorted under his breath but quickly tried to disguise it with a fake cough. But you heard him. And so did Hotch 

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone cold but amused. “What was that?”

Rossi gave an exaggerated pout and shook his head. “I said, good luck,” he said quickly, trying to play it off.

But you could see the smirk tugging at the corners of Hotch’s mouth, the briefest flicker of amusement before his usual stoic mask returned.

“Let’s go, then.”

You, Hotch, and a few members of the team made your way into the bar. Hotch guided you to a corner, giving you a clear view of the Unsub. You studied the man, noting how he stood casually with his hands in his jacket pockets, likely concealing a gun.

Hotch leaned against the bar, and you positioned yourself in front of him. Without warning, his arm slipped around your waist in a bold but necessary move, pulling you closer. Your arms instinctively draped over his shoulders, and your fingers locked together behind his neck. The proximity sent a wave of awareness through you. You were too close.

“Is he looking?” you whispered to Hotch, your voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

Hotch shifted, leaning back just enough to check on the Unsub before looking at you again. “Yeah, he is.”

You had the unsub's full attention.

“I should go and talk to him.” You said pulling apart a little but Hotch didn’t lose his grip on you.

“Careful.” His voice tone was firm and serious, you nodded in understanding.

You walked and stood beside the Unsub.

“James, hey! I thought that was you.” You greeted him. “How's Mary Ann?

He looked at you, puzzled.

“Oh!” You giggled. “You don’t remember me, do you?” You grimaced. “We met at a party.”

“We did?” 

“Yeah. That was a crazy night.”

He smirked, nodding with his head. “I bet it was”

You tried to make a conversation with him based on what you figured out of him, for a while he seemed to follow the conversation but in the end, he caught your lies.

“You don’t know me and I don’t know you.” He said, he was clearly pissed.

Everyone could see how the conversation got heated, how the tension started to build up, and how he reached to grab something from his jacket.

You froze, but you got to hear a distant.

“Move, move.”

From Hotch.

And then you heard a gunshot, and you felt like everything stopped for a moment, you couldn’t breathe and your chest felt heavy. You looked at his eyes, they were still looking at you but then he dropped to the ground. Right on your feet.

Your eyes slowly lifted, and there she was Emily, standing in front of you with a gun in her hand. She had just saved your life.

“Thank you,” you mouthed, barely able to believe the moment.

She gave you a reassuring smile, then reached out, pulling you away from the chaos. Her arm slipped around your shoulders in a comforting embrace.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “Let’s just get on that plane and head home. We deserve a girls’ night after all this.”

“The Lord knows we do,” you replied, your smile finally reaching your eyes.

——

After a flight back home where you slept most of the time, it was time to get off the plane. Hotch saw your sleepy form trying to get a cab on the cold night.

“Need a ride?” You jumped a little.

“Oh, I don’t want to bother.” He shook his head 

“It’s not, your house is on my way.”

You looked at him with a smile, softly shaking your head. “No it’s not, and I’m sure Jack is waiting for you.”

He looked at you. “Let me get you home.”

“Alright, Sir. Lead the way.”

The car ride was quiet, the soft music in the background, the steady rhythm of the engine, and Hotch’s presence beside you relaxed you. Your head rested against the cool glass of the window, your gaze drifting between the road ahead and the focused expression on his face as he drove. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him multiple times until you arrived at your house.

Hotch insisted on helping you with your bags, walking inside to make sure everything was in order. He still wondered why you hadn’t moved out of your apartment after the Gordon incident, but he didn’t bring it up. Not tonight.

“Thanks for going out of your way to give me a ride home,” you said as you both stood on the porch.

“My pleasure,” he replied, stepping a little closer. “I should go.”

You nodded, moving a fraction closer as well. “Say hi to Jack for me.”

Both of you lingered there, the space between you growing smaller, tension hanging in the air.

“And good luck, on the road.” Being so close to Hotch stirred something within you, emotions that had been lingering after what happened in his office a few days ago. 

Hotch’s gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. 

Without another word, Hotch drew you even closer, your lips brushing for a moment before he took the final step. He kissed you like he knew exactly what his kiss was doing to you. You had been kissed before, yes, but never like this, not with this raw intensity, this urgency. His free hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing across your skin, and the hunger between you both became palpable.

Your tongue gently traced his bottom lip, and without hesitation, he parted his lips to welcome you in. The kiss was slow but fierce, a dance of desire that felt like it had been waiting to happen for far too long. You knew you needed to stop, you had to, his kid was waiting for him. But once again when he finally pulled away breathless, you couldn’t help but whimper at the loss of him, desperate for more.

He looked at you, your lips slightly parted and red from the swollen.  “See you tomorrow?”

You quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Tags: @adrienneleclerc @hayleym1234

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day four: Making a pact with Sebastian

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: hehehe *twirls hair and blushes* you guys know that sebastian makes me weak, sir just one chance plsss 🥺💕💕

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, animal's death, demonic ritual, implied stalking.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @harukishiyo @laythestar

The room was dim, illuminated only by flickering candles arranged in a perfect circle on the cold, uneven stone floor. The scent of melting wax filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that had already begun to pool in the center of the chalk-drawn sigil. Your heart raced in your chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of what you were about to do.

There was no turning back now.

The world had turned its back on you. It started with the threatening letters slipped under your door, then escalated to the ominous shadows that lingered outside your window, following you through empty streets at night. You’d gone to the police, desperate and pleading, but all they saw was another poor soul who couldn't afford to buy their attention or sympathy.

Their dismissive laughter, the way they turned you away with false promises and empty reassurances, still echoed in your ears.

When they refused to help, you knew you had to take matters into your own hands. So here you were, kneeling on the cold floor with a trembling, white dove clutched between your blood-stained fingers. The small creature fluttered weakly, its eyes wide with fear, mirroring your own.

"I'm sorry," You whispered to the dove, its feathers soft and warm against your skin, yet there was an insincerity in your worss - you aren't sorry for what you were doing, you were sorry that you had to do it. You couldn’t hesitate now, otherwise, soon you will be on the dove's place.

The whispers of old texts, hidden away in the darkest corners of forgotten libraries, had led you here. You didn’t know if they were true but desperation has a way of making you believe in even the darkest of possibilities; sacrifices and blood rituals, murder and horrific acts, all to summon a demon powerful enough to help you. If, and only if, what it was written on the book was correct.

With a deep breath, you drew the knife across the dove's throat, watching as crimson blood spilled from the wound, staining the purity of its feathers. You winced at the sound of its final, feeble coo, but you didn’t pull away, even as warmth spread across your hands. You allowed the blood to drip into the center of the sigil, each drop absorbed into the lines until they began to glow with a faint, eerie light.

It was working.

The heavy smell of incense made your head hurt as the bird's eyes were fixed on you. Its eyes judged you, just as every other human had judged you. You ignored it.

You forced down the bile rising in your throat and began the incantation, your voice trembling as you spoke the ancient words, each syllable heavy with power. "I call upon the one who serves, the demon bound by darkness and danger. I summon you."

The air shifted, growing heavy and cold. The candles flickered wildly, their flames bending and stretching, and shadows danced along the walls, their movements frenzied and unnatural. One by one, the flames extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.

You felt a chill run down your spine and for a moment, you wondered if you had failed, if this had all been for nothing.

You closed the grimoire, frustrated. The ritualistic knife sliding from your hands till it hit the floor.

"I failed...?" You thought out loud. You closed your eyes, repeating every step you had to follow under your breath.

Step one: draw the pentagram on the ground of the chosen demon. Step two: sacrifice a living being to gain the attention of the desired demon while thinking with all your might about your goal. It was important to have a strong sense of wanting, otherwise he would ignore you.

With all the steps completed, now was the time for the demon to appear, if your will and sacrifice had pleased him. Maybe... Just maybe if you had offered something bigger like a dog or... A child... Maybe it would have worked.

Silence was your only companion for the next few seconds as you rethought your next steps. Your hands were already bloody, you might as well take care of your problem with your hands.

Then, when you reopened your eyes, from the darkness, two glowing red eyes blinked at you, their light piercing through the shadows and staring directly into your soul. You froze instantly, the air trapped in your lungs as you stared into those beautiful ruby eyes. It was real.

It was real. It had worked.

A smooth, almost amused voice filled the air, echoing off the walls. "My, my, what a desperate little human we have here."

The darkness seemed to shift and move, taking form. When the shadows receded, he stood before you - the most handsome man you have ever seen, silky black hair cascading down his neck while his red eyes mesmerized you, stealing every little breath from you so effortlessly.

He was taller than you’d imagined, with sharp features and a refined air, his black tailcoat immaculate despite the gloom that surrounded him. He regarded you with a gloved hand resting against his chin, an expression of mild curiosity dancing in his crimson eyes.

"Tell me, little lost lamb," he murmured, his voice rich and velvety. "what does someone like you desire from a demon such as myself?"

His presence was overwhelming, pressing down on you with an intensity that could make your knees tremble if you wasnt already kneeling. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I… I need your help," you stammered, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"Someone is trying to kill me. I've gone to the police, but they… they wouldn’t help me. They said I wasn't worth their time because I’m poor. I have no one else to turn to."

His eyes flashed, a flicker of something dark and dangerous passing through them. "How pitiful," He said softly, though there was no trace of pity in his tone. "And you believe that by summoning me, you can escape this fate?"

You nodded, biting back the fear that threatened to choke you. "Yes," Your tone was more firm this time. "Would I be mistaken?"

The demon's smile widened, revealing the faintest hint of sharp teeth. He crouched by your side, his movements so fluid and graceful that you were certain that he really wasn't human.

"You are not. But what, pray tell, would you offer in return?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he reached out, a gloved hand tracing the curve of your jaw.

"You’ve already given me the life of this poor creature, that's true." The demon continued, glancing at the lifeless dove still laying on the pentagram. "But that is merely the price of my attention, not my service."

With his free hand, he took the dove's lifeless body and without thinking twice, he opened his mouth and swallowed it whole.

You trembled under his touch, feeling the heat of his skin even through the fabric of his gloves, a mix of feelings, mainly horror, came over you when you saw him do that. But now it was too late to regret it.

"I don’t have anything else." You confessed, your voice shaking. You haven't actually thought that ahead, you were sure that this whole ritual thing wasn't going to work. Yet again, you were wrong. "But if you protect me, I… I will give myself to you. My soul, my body — whatever you want. Just please… don’t let them kill me."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, the scent of death emanating from him in waves. "You would give yourself to me, body and soul, for the mere promise of protection?"

His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, a dark hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. "How delightfully naïve."

Tears pricked at your eyes but you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you break. "Yes." You whispered. "If it means I’ll live, then yes."

A low chuckle escaped his lips, and he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Very well." The demon murmured, lifting your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

The touch of his lips sent a jolt through you and you watched, entranced, as the blood from the dove's wound seeped into your skin, forming a mark that glowed faintly with an unholy light.

"The pact is sealed, dear Y/n." The demon announced, his voice echoing through the room. "From this moment onward, I accept you as my master. You may give me a name."

"Your name... I'm going to call you Sebastian." The name fits him quite well ans by the way he smiled, he thought so too.

"Sebastian, it is then," He was serene. The name rolling on his tongue as he spoke. For sure, another contratee may had given him this name before and he seemed fond of it.

Sebastian helped you stand up, still holding your hand, and the sigil beneath both of you flared to life, its lines glowing a brilliant crimson before fading into the stone. The mark on your skin pulsed once, twice, and then settled into a faint, silvery brand.

It seems like a real tattoo, you thought as you looked at it.

The pain that came with it was brief but searing, like the sting of a thousand needles all over your body. You gasped, nearly collapsing, but your demon caught you, pulling you into his arms. His touch was gentle, yet firm, and you could feel the power thrumming beneath his skin, a barely restrained force that sent your heart racing.

Your mark was pulsing in sync with him. When he breathed, air rushed into your lungs. When he smiled, you felt your mouth curve wide. It was all involuntary.

You were one; contratee and contractor.

"Now," Sebastian whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, "no one will harm you, not while I am here. I will deal with anyone who dares to threaten what is mine."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of relief and fear washing over you. "Thank you," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

"Ah, but it is I who should thank you," Sebastian replied, his smile widening, and this time, you could see the possessiveness lurking behind those crimson eyes. "You have given me something far more precious than you realize."

His arms tightened around you, holding you close as if he were afraid you might disappear right before your eyes. "I shall enjoy our time together, my dear," He murmured, "and don't worry, no one will ever take you away from me."

And as you stood there, trapped in the embrace of a demon who now owned your very soul, you felt the weight of your choice settle over you. You had sacrificed everything but for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope, of safety.

Even if it was the darkness that cradled you now, it was a darkness that promised to keep you, to cherish you and never let you go.

You could live with that.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 4

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Yes, please, he should be waiting,” you confirm and hang up the phone.  

You’re still in a daze. You barely remember getting to your desk or dialing the call. You’re functioning on habit alone as your mind reels. 

“Ahem,” the throat clear makes you wince and you look up at Loki as he looms on the other side of your monitor. 

You sit up straight and fix the screen, adjusting it so you can see. He tuts and grabs it again, stopping you from sinking into your work. That’s how you deal with things. You just ignore them. 

“What?” You look at him. 

“What?” He echoes.  

“Why are you still here? You have the...” you can’t even say it. You’re married. Somehow.  

“I’ve every right to stay close to my wife.” 

“Ooh, don’t say that,” you shake your head. 

“Pardon?” His brows tweak. 

“Don’t say it out loud. That word. Wife--” You suck in air and hold it in your chest. You shudder as you let it out slowly. 

“You should be flattered. I am a god. You are... minuscule, even for a Midgardian,” he slithers. 

“So why did you do that?” Your voice peaks. 

He snickers. “Well, let’s not get off to such a rough start. There are things still to tend to. As I have it, your marital traditions require a band?” 

He leans in to look over the monitor as your fingers flutter nervously by your keyboard. You follow his gaze and find a large green emerald mounted on a golden band. Where the heck did that come from? You raise your hand and try to wrench it off. It’s stuck!��

“It cannot be undone as easily that,” he taunts. “So, in my research, you are not so dissimilar to Asgardians in the way of marriage, however, I don’t think you’d be fond of a blood sacrifice so I’ll spare you that.” He laughs as you blanch at him. You’re annoyed at how amused he is. “Though the matter of consummation...” 

“Alright, no,” you stand and wave your hands. “No, no. I’m working. I’m busy.” Your voice is brittle and salty in your throat. You sweep around the desk and shoo him, “you need to go, alright? I have work to do and this is insane. So please, leave.” 

He catches you by the wrists as he faces you. You gulp at the iron in his grip. You tug but he doesn’t even flinch. You stare at his pale fingers. He feels like ice. 

“Loki, sir, later when I’m done we can discuss--” 

“I preferred when you called me a prince. Yes. Proper titles. ‘My Prince,’" he sneers. 

You sniff and squirm against his grasp, “my prince, please, will you go? I can’t handle this right now.” 

His lip curls as his green eyes blaze down at you. Is he angry? Entertained? Annoyed? 

“You needn’t be so scandalized. I am perfectly attractive. I am an exceptional choice in mate. By any standard in this universe, I am coveted. Don’t pretend that heart isn’t skipping a beat at my very touch,” he drawls. 

“Yes, it’s a condition. I’ve had it checked. They said it’s nothing to worry about,” you babble dumbly. You know he doesn’t mean that but you really can’t deal with his true implication. 

“We have to seal this union or I have no case for my residence--” 

“Got it. I get it. I understand,” you ramble. “But right now is not the time for that--” 

“There’s an office right there--” 

“Not now,” you repeat. “Loki,” you rip your hands free as his hold on you slackens. “I need to finish my work here and to be honest, I could use a little time to process this.” You turn away and stride back around the desk to face him from the other side. “I should have everything wrapped up at six and then we can figure things out.” 

You sit but your chair is higher than you expect. You blink and he’s gone. No, he’s below you. You writhe in his lap as he wraps an arm around your middle. You push on his elbow and squeal. 

“What are you doing?” You whine and kick your legs. 

“Well, darling, you sat in my lap. It’s rather forward of you,” he laughs. 

“Stop, stop!” You shove his arm helplessly. “I’m begging you to just--” 

“Oh, I knew you would beg--” 

“Enough!” You yell and stomp his foot. You get free and throw yourself off of him. You hit the desk and spin in the small space between you. You puff out as your adrenaline pumps behind your ears.  

You put your hands out, speechless. You can’t think. It’s all a scramble. You clap your palms together and twine your fingers. Then you cup your hands and cover your mouth. 

“Darling, you are dramatic,” he muses. 

You finally untangle your fingers and throw up your arms. You shake your head and turn to storm off. You don’t look back. You are going to hide in the bathroom until the world doesn’t feel so shaky. 

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Mortified (Broadchurch)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader (fem anatomy) 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Being in the office so late usually meant that you had complete privacy- though that doesn't account for people leaving things behind, does it?

CW: semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, getting caught in the act

Broadchurch tag list: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

There was one benefit to Alec’s odd working hours- and that was that there was barely anyone at his office late in the evening. The other less workaholic-inclined employees trailed off to a trickle around eight in the evening, and by ten it was usually just Alec. Past that- well, the office was pretty much a definite ghost town. 

You didn’t come over to the station every night. That would be far too tiring and you had your own job to get to in the mornings. But some nights when all you wanted to was to spend time with Alec- just to see him. On those nights you made the sacrifice to your sleep to go and see him. 

He always grumbled at first, complaining about how he just had too much work to do and how you shouldn’t be there because it was a risk to whatever investigations he was working on- blah, blah, blah. He always gave in though when you brought him an extra strong espresso and a kiss hello. Yes. An extra strong espresso at ten plus in the evening. You were aware of how ridiculous it was.

Tonight, you’d managed to convince Alec to hoist you up onto his desk and finger fuck you to within an inch of your cunts life. He was standing between your pushed-open legs, tie loose around his neck and sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. The fabric of your skirt was stretching and you were almost worried that it was going to rip up the seams. Though you were pretty sure Alec would get a real kick out of that. 

The man in question currently had his tongue in your mouth and three fingers flexing and pumping mercilessly into your pussy. You were pretty sure there was slick dripping down onto his desk and coating his mouse pad. He’d have to get a new one at this rate.

“God, look at you,” he says, forcing himself to pull away from your mouth and dropping his head onto your shoulder. His fingers didn’t stop pumping for even a second, even though you were absolutely sure his whole arm was aching from wrist to shoulder blade. Oh well, at least you could say with confidence that he never skipped arm day. “So fuckin’ tight for me, darlin’.” 

You whined and did your best to grind yourself onto his fingers.

“Holy- Sir- fuck, sorry!” 

You froze, cunt clenching around Alec’s fingers half in fear and half in desperation as he came to a complete stop. You were panting, looking over his shoulder at the back wall of his office but you’d recognise that voice anywhere. 

“Miller,” Alec said somewhat awkwardly. “What’re you doin’ here so late?” 

Alec’s fingers started to retreat, pulling out of you. You did your best to contain the whimper of complaint threatening to spill from your lips. 

“Oh- I- needed- I, fuck- don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “See you tomorrow!” 

You heard rapidly departing footsteps back into the office and down the stairs towards the doors. You groaned, head dropping back. Alec’s face was flushed such a deep red that it might have looked as though he had a rash if you didn’t know better. 

“Well, that was…” you trailed off, looking for the right words. 

“Mm,” Alec agreed, looking positively mortified. 

You broke off into a fit of horrified giggles, and you were pleased when Alec at the very least broke out into a smile. 

“Ellie’s never going to look at you or me or this desk the same way ever again,” you giggled, pressing kisses to Alec’s cheeks. 

“Probably not,” he agreed. “Now, where were we, eh?” 

You gasped as his fingers started moving again, his thumb coming to rub against your clit. 

“Where indeed?” You asked breathily, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

Alec chuckled darkly as you keened under his touch. 

“There y’are. So good for me.”

[venus-haze]

Silver Platter (Firecracker x Starlight)

Summary: Day 13 - Abduction/Imprisonment. Firecracker thinks she knows what she wants to do with Annie January until she actually has her. [AO3 link]

Note: Written for @cozycornerevents Kinktober. Extremely toxic yuri probably no one asked for! This takes place post-season 4.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Power imbalances all around. Internalized homophobia, dubious consent, metoclopramide side effects (lactation), canon typical violence.

“Well done, Firecracker,” Homelander said, his praise, laced with an obvious surprise at her success, nothing short of music to her ears. “You caught Starlight, that just leaves us William Butcher.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“No good deed goes unpunished, so,” he began, tilting his head, considering what was to follow, “whatever you want, anything, it’s yours.”

Anything. Like she gave him. And now…she wanted something earth-shattering. Biblical.

“I want Starlight’s head on a platter. A–A silver platter.”

He raised his eyebrows, only for a moment before conceding with a casual, “Done.”

She bowed her head solemnly. “Thank you, sir.” 

“I assume you’d like the honors.”

“Sir?”

“Of beheading Starlight, of course.”

She could feel herself trembling. Almost wanted to kiss his hand. A man like that, fulfilling every dream, every wish she once thought was out of reach, deserved that and so much more. 

Instead, with a quivering voice and tears in her eyes, breathed, “Of course.”

She wanted to do it live, give that prissy bitch a taste of her own medicine after pummeling her in front of God-fearing America. But it’d only embolden the Starlighters, wouldn’t fit right with the law-and-order facade Homelander was trying so hard to maintain with his regime. No, she’d go on the air the following morning and proudly proclaim Starlight had been apprehended and was being held in custody indefinitely.

She started coughing as her heartbeat faster, held onto the wall to steady herself.

The doctor who gave her the metoclopramide prescription in the first place warned her about the side effects. But an enlarged heart and flu-like symptoms were nothing compared to being in The Seven, having Homelander’s praise and approval, such a special, intimate bond with him that no one else did. Not even Sage.

For as much as any of them doubted Firecracker, she was damn good at digging up people’s dirt, Homelander’s included—not that she’d ever dream of using what she knew to hurt him. He saved her. Just like she gave purpose to the nobodies who listened to her show, he did the same for her. Better than Jesus, because he was real. Her prayers didn’t fall on empty ears because he was there and he answered her. Her lips to Homelander’s ears. Rewarded her so generously for her devotion and sacrifice.

He made her the voice of America, the face of Vought News Network, from a homegrown podcast to being broadcast in nearly every home in the nation. Families woke up to Firecracker, hearing her spread the good word that Homelander wanted her to. Boogeymen were around every corner, but superheroes were strong, capable, there to ensure law and order for the masses.

Didn’t matter whether or not she believed what she was saying, fear-mongering about whatever new enemy the marketing team conjured up. She was somebody. And after being nobody for so long, she’d be dead before she gave it up.

Firecracker would never get tired of walking into her suite at Vought Tower. It was perfect, everything she’d ever thrown together on a “Dream Home” Pinterest board. Annie January, tied up and powerless in the middle of her living room was icing on the cake.

She grinned, couldn’t help the slight song in her voice when she mockingly asked, “Well, look who we have here.”

“Please let me go,” Starlight tried weakly.

She still looked worse for wear, ragged and bruised, but being on the run had left her vulnerable, how Firecracker was able to get the edge on her in the first place. 

“Fat chance.”

“Misty, I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m not—“ A coughing fit cut her off, leaving her gasping for air. Fish out of water just like she was at those fucking pageants. She tried so hard. Thought being sweet and enthusiastic would be enough to win them over. But not her. Not trailer trash Misty Gray. “I’m not Misty. My name’s Firecracker. You best remember that, bitch.”

“Firecracker, there’s no excuse for what I said to you or how I treated you back then. It was awful, and there’s no one to blame but me. You don’t have to accept my apology, but I want to offer it to you anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna kill you, and I’m gonna love every second of it.”

Seeing Annie January cry wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it’d be. Such a pretty girl breaking down in front of her made her fucked up heart ache. Licking her lips, Firecracker wrestled with her own conscience, quickly coming to the conclusion that Annie would be dead soon, so no one would know, wouldn’t matter if she just did it.

She kissed her, more desperate than soothing, not entirely surprised when Starlight tensed at the gesture, but startled when she kissed her back. Even as her prisoner, Annie was perfect, her soft lips tasted almost like strawberry chapstick, it was everything she shamefully fantasized about. But when she went to deepen the kiss, claim Annie’s mouth further, her breasts ached and she could feel herself leaking, panic rushing through her as milk dripped onto Annie.

Firecracker pulled away, covering her chest with her arms.

“Don’t look—don’t fucking look!” she shouted frantically. ”It’s for him!”

“What—what are you?” Annie’s eyes widened. “You mean Homelander? You’re—why destroy yourself for him?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’ve had everything handed to you and you threw it back in the world’s face—your powers, being in The Seven—you had everything.”

“I know you’re scared, Firecracker. I can help you, if you just let me go—”

“Ain’t that a nice thought,” she spat.

It was too late. The damage to her body was done. Annie reaching out, offering this olive branch at the eleventh hour. Didn’t bother when Firecracker was a nobody. She only mattered when Homelander made her important, someone to be feared and respected rather than ridiculed.

With a shaky breath, Firecracker leaned in, tempted to kiss Starlight again. Instead, she muttered, “Count your days, bitch.”

[lady-bess]

Just A Date - Tim Rockford

Part of the LadyBess Valentine's special! 8 Characters; 8 Dates 💜

Detective Tim Rockford x GN!Reader Mature/18+ (Minors DNI Please✨) WC: 1.2k Notable Tags: References to gun-holsters being used in the bedroom, Yeah we're starting off strong, Valentine's Date Ruined, Backup Date, Chinese Takeout, References to Alcohol, References to Sex, Kissing, Swearing, Fluff, SFW (nearly).

To say this detective only got a mere 48-seconds of screen time, he’s very quickly become a favourite in the Pedro-verse! And man, with gun holsters like that, I can see why…

Anyway!

We don’t know much about Tim, so I’ve taken a fair few creative liberties with this one! I hope that I still do the man justice!

“Rockford, I’m sorry, but this case needs working tonight. A lead has opened up, and if we don’t act now we might not get a chance again,” his boss said. Tim sighed, knowing this would definitely derail his plans with you tonight, but he understood the need.

“No worries, sir. Let me just call my partner though, alright? I’m sure you can appreciate we did have plans tonight,” he said.

“I thought you might, and I’m so sorry. I’ll tell you what, I’ll throw in an extra day of paid leave in for you for making you miss your plans tonight,” he offered.

“Sounds like a deal to me,” he said, smiling faintly before pulling his phone out to call you.

It had been a bummer for sure when Tim cancelled, but you were understanding. His job was demanding, and you knew from day one that his rank within the force meant he often had to prioritise work over his personal life. Tim had never minded so much, and outwardly he never complained. But you knew, deep down, that it irritated him.

At the end of the day though, he loved his work, and what he did kept the streets a much safer place. You’d sacrifice all your nights with him if it meant that he got to continue his good work. At least he now got to come home to you.

Moving in together had been the best decision you’d made, and it had made a lot of sense in the end. Both your jobs kept you tied to your desks for longer than you’d both ever like to admit, so at least now you got to spend some more time together by sharing the same bed every night. Your relationship had only gone from strength to strength ever since that day you were given a set of keys to his place.

The front door to your apartment opened several hours later. You were lay on the couch, idly scrolling through the TV channels, seeing if there were any films being showed that you fancied watching. Sure, you had streaming services, but something about watching a film ‘live’ hit different.

“Sweetheart?” Tim shouted from the door.

“In here!” you called out.

Tim smiled at the sound of your voice, the sound instantly making him feel like he was well and truly home. This had been where he lived for many years, but until you came along it hadn’t felt like somewhere he wanted to put roots down.

He slipped his coat off and hung it on the back of the kitchen chair, then headed through to you in the lounge. In his hand he held a white plastic bag, filled with his vague attempt at making up for tonight.

You smiled wide as he appeared in the doorway, his tie already loosened around his neck, brown curls ruffled and dishevelled. Tim smiled over at you, his eyes creasing behind his thick framed glasses. You could tell just by looking at him that he was exhausted, but behind the fatigue was a happiness to see you.

“Hey, you,” he said, “Sorry I had to stay late. I’m hoping this might make it up to you?” he asked, raising the white plastic bag. You furrowed your brow, sitting up on the couch and squinting at the logo on the bag.

“What is it?” you asked, and Tim slowly headed over to you. He set down the plastic bag on the coffee table, then sank down onto the couch next to you.

“Chinese takeout. It ain’t much, but I felt it was the least I could do after ruining our plans for tonight,” he said, a slight sigh coming from his lips as he relaxed into the couch. You smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly on the cheek, just above the scruff of his beard. Tim smiled as he felt the warmth of your kiss seep into his skin, and turned to look at you.

“You haven’t ruined anything, Tim. You’re a great detective, and I’ll never hold it against you that sometimes work needs you more than I do,” you said, “I love you”.

“I love you too,” he said, reaching forward to caress your cheek, then softly kissed you. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax into his hold, all the pressures of your jobs disappearing at the contact of your skin on one another. “Come on, let’s eat before this gets cold!” he said.

You smiled and nodded, moving away from Tim to begin your assault on the plastic bag of takeout. It was always a bit of a wild card whenever Tim collected food, but there was always one guarantee: Chow Mein. Sure enough, you found a box of it tucked into the bottom, and giggled to yourself.

“You’re so predictable sometimes,” you said, getting the boxes out and spreading them out onto the table. Tim stood to his feet.

“Oh, shush!” he chuckled. “Now, fancy some wine with it too?” he said, heading over to the wine rack at the other side of the room.

“Only if you’re having some. Aren’t you working tomorrow?” you asked.

“I was, but not anymore! Boss gave me tomorrow off for fucking up tonight’s plans,” he said, pulling a bottle of red wine out the rack and then heading to get some glasses.

“Oh, brilliant! Shall we watch a film then, if we can be up a bit later?” you asked, opening up the takeout boxes and beginning to separate the chopsticks provided. Tim came back into the room a few moments later, a generous glass of wine in either hand, and he came to sit next to you.

“We sure can! Although, I’ll be frank, once we’ve eaten all of this there’s only one thing I wanna do tonight,” he chuckled, kissing your jaw once he was settled back into the couch as his hands worked away at his tie. You giggled, blushing bright red, and had to hide the wide grin across your face. Even after all this time of knowing each other, he still managed to reduce you to a complete puddle.

“Stop it, you!” you teased, jokingly slapping his thigh. “Get those gun holsters off and have your dinner with me!”.

Tim sat up, grabbing you around the waist, and buried his head in the crook of your neck. His lips danced along your ears delicately, his hot breath making your hairs stand on end. Large hands spread out across your torso, keeping you pinned to his chest as he continued to tease you.

“I thought you liked it when I kept the holsters on?” he whispered, chuckling under his breath when you whimpered in pleasure at the thought that ran across the forefront of your mind.

Safe to say, it was the fastest either of you had ever eaten dinner in your entire life.

For more from this series, check out the Just A Date Masterlist! For more works from me, here's my main Masterlist! ❤

LadyBess xox

[msfbgraves]

So in Knights and Pawns, omegas can only get with child during a Heat. Well, usually. There is a tiny chance that they can get knocked up outside of Heats too.

What if Terry managed to get Daniel pregnant outside of a Heat 😆? Poor Daniel thought he was safe to have as much sex as he could—and after seven kids, it was nice to know that only a Heat could get him with pup…or so he thought. Of course his Alpha would manage to knock him up. Of course.

“Terry, we’re not having sex ever again.” 😤

“WAIT WHAT DANNY BOY???” 😱

“I’m pretty sure you’d manage to get me pregnant even with a condom on, so—“ 😤😤

“DANIEL. BABY. WAIT. PLEASE!!” 😭 😭

No, Nonnie you misunderstand. The "Danny, please 😭😭" conversations are about dinner. Are about Daniel getting Terry his favorite shirts, the best whiskey, the way he can bring him a puppy to hold when he needs a pick me up, the way he can clean the blood off his face and give him a surprise hug when he's worried about something.

It can never be. About sex. Pup or no.

Look we already know what Terry is capable of there.

Terry may not be a batterer, but he's not going to let anyone deny him sex. Whenever Terry gets really dangerous in canon, it's always, one way or another, a sexual threat. Bathroom threats. (Multiple). Getting off on watching Daniel in pain. Creeping around. Pulling Daniel close even during fistfights.

Terry's big red flag here, too is that he simply never accepts a goddamn "no" to anything. You always have to play him for something he can grant you. And you frankly cannot physically deny him sex. You can kill him after, but the sex he can take. Honestly, in the above scenario, he'd take it as a challenge to rail Daniel then and there. Look, if his boy is tired or upset or just too damn pregnant, Terry often abstains, because he thinks it's best, or he'll seek out a handjob or a blowjob or get off in other ways but he will get off when he so pleases. He's a mob boss with an insanely high level of energy, this is not negotiable for him (do I think that is fair or healthy? No. I think that is one of the compromises and sacrifices of this marriage). He's very conscious of his Danny's pleasure but he has the final say in this, in his brain, and he acts like it.

What he cannot take is the intimacy. What he cannot take is Daniel hyping the pups up for an outing with Daddy. What he cannot do is cook splendid meals and make his people clamor to please be on guard duty of his house because the place is so damn nice. What he cannot do is make Danny appease Sister George. Or keep Michael LaRusso away on random times, or really stop Danny spending entire days with the pups at their grandparents, forcing him to stay longer at the Stallion, and he cannot stop the people there constantly badgering him about: "Is your mate well, sir? It's only that we haven't seen him a lot. My Laura was asking, sir, he is still doing the bakesale?" And "What do you care" won't get him anything other than: "No sir, it's just my mate is worried. Sorry. Won't mention it."

So when Terry misbehaves, it's more like: "Sorry? You want coffee, do you? I just don't know suddenly. And I'll be out today, Terry. Yes, with Apollonia, why do you ask?"

"No 😢"

"You'll be fine, Terry, I know you're busy"

"I forbid it 😭"

"Well - it's just that I haven't seen any of them in a while and they might come over to check"

"Call to say you're fine 😤"

"Why would I have to call about that, that's suspicious, anyway I was going to pick out a new dresser for the puppies on the way, so unless you want to -"

"I'M SORRY FORGET IT, ILY 😞❤️‍🩹😭"

"I love you too 🥰😘"

[hugmekenobi]

Chapter 4 Sneak Peak

Just a lil something to hopefully keep interest and prove that I am working on it lol

“What can I do?” You asked. “Please don’t punish them for something I did.”

“What can we do?” Hunter corrected, giving you a pointed look.

Right, no self-sacrifice. You said giving him a slight smile.

“You ever get tired of being a third wheel?” The client asked Echo, gesturing at you and Hunter. He wasn’t a fool. The automatic defence Hunter had provided you and the way the two of you had looked at each other both now and when the crates were being unloaded, it was like there was an understanding, an unspoken language between you that only you two were in on. He’d had that. Once. A long time ago.

Echo merely grunted, neither in agreement nor disagreement.

You let the comment pass and your attention turned back to the client. “We’re a capable bunch, there has to be some way we can all get what we want.”

The client pondered for a few moments before he looked to Echo. “You know your way around machinery?”

Echo’s back straightened. “Yes, sir.”

He released a low hum before he faced you and Hunter. “And do you two think you could handle waiting some tables? Two of my staff called in sick and I haven’t found covers.”

“Definitely.” You said swiftly whilst Hunter nodded.

He hummed in thought again. “Echo, my dishwasher has been acting up and I haven’t had enough finances to cover the cost of a new one. If you can fix it, and if you two are servers for the length of time it takes you to fix it, I’ll still pay you in full.”

“You’d- you’d what?” You questioned, utterly taken aback. There was no way this was real.

“I’d still pay you in full if you’d do a bit of additional work.” He maintained.

“That’s it?” Hunter double checked.

“That’s it. You seem like nice people stuck in an unfortunate position. I’ve had dealings with Cid before and I believe that she hasn’t made things easy for you. Do these things for me, and we can go our separate ways without any unpleasantries.” He replied merrily before he waved you all inside.

“With all due respect, sir, how have you survived this long?” You couldn’t help but ask as you followed him in. “Decent people tend not to succeed in this galaxy.”

He sighed. “A question I ask myself every day.”

[ninjakittenarmy]

The mayor’s eyes widened. “Oh dear! Is that so, oh noble sir?”

The Hunter sighed, placing a hand over their head. “Yes! That’s the worst way you could possibly have handled this!”

“Wherefore? What dire consequences result from this course of action?”

The Hunter was speechless. They’d seen some dumb attempts at dealing with monsters before. They’d seen people try to fight off fey with hot fire pokers. They’d seen people try to kill hydra with a guillotine. They’d even seen an attempt to kill off a group of kappa by flooding their homes. And the less said about the great vampire steak mix-up, the better. But this beat them all! They never thought they’d see someone be this incompetent in such a counterintuitive way.

“Well?” The Mayor said. “Please, good sir, pray tell what dire consequences await us for our actions! Does the beast feast upon human suffering to grow stronger? Doth the blood of man hone its strength? Can the beast summon the souls of its victims to do its foul bidding? Does it grow even hungrier when it feasts upon-?“

“Ok, first off, stop talking like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Secondly, no, none of that. Human isn’t even particularly good for werewolves.”

“So why…?”

“Because you got it used to getting free snacks in town every month, you moron! Of course it keeps coming back when you do that! Didn’t you ever learn not to leave food scraps by your campsite to stop bear attacks?”

“But the wolf plagued our woods long before the sacrifices began! We found carcasses of livestock mutilated on our farms, sounds of inhuman howling following. A few farmers turned up dead not long after! We began having to fortify every full moon in case of an attack! All the militia we sent to hunt the beast vanished never to be seen again! The sacrifices only began three months ago!”

The Hunter took a deep breath. “Did the werewolf ever come into town to attack?”

“I mean, no. But surely it was only a matter of time!”

“Did it go into the farmers’ homes to kill them?”

“No, mostly they were found along with the livestock.”

“Yeah, I’m betting they went to investigate. The werewolf saw them as a threat.”

“Then why did it eat them?”

The hunter shrugged. “Probably because it already went through the trouble of killing ’em. Werewolves have larger appetites than regular wolves. Transforming takes energy.”

“Which is why it would be after us!”

The Hunter, in their frustration, made a sound that started as a groan, then mixed with some sort of scream of frustration. The mayor took a step back in alarm.

They pinched the bridge of their nose. “Tell me, what animal do werewolves resemble most?”

“A… wolf?”

“Yes. And wolves hunt prey animals. Deer, rabbits, moose, and yes, sometimes livestock like cows or pigs or sheep or chickens or… you get the point. These animals are a reliable source of food, often quite a lot of food for a successful hunt. One moose could feed a whole pack.”

“I’m… not sure I follow.”

The Hunter sighed. “Wolves do not hunt humans. Not out of habit. It happens, but it takes very specific circumstances for it to happen. That’s why you usually see them on farms with the big beefy delicious animals, and not in the middle of the towns full of tall, lanky, not all that meaty, extremely aggressive humans who get really pissed if you kill one of them.”

“So you’re saying…”

“Werewolves don’t hunt humans!” The Hunter exclaimed, throwing up their hands. “This thing had zero reason to even approach your town unless it was one of the residents, and you’d know if that were the case. The werewolf’s home town is basically the only one ever threatened by them regularly. When it’s leaving. You have been feeding people to this thing every month. It knows you will feed it every month. So now, if you stop feeding it every month, it’s gonna get confused, and come into town, looking for its dinner.”

The mayor’s eyes widened with horror.

“Yeah. You getting it now, dumbass? It’s nearly impossible to get one of these things to attack a town, and you did the one thing that can cause that reliably! Good going! Who have you been feeding to this thing anyway?”

“Oh, criminals mostly. And vagabonds. Witches.”

“Real witches?”

“Well not if the werewolf eats them. Werewolves don’t eat real witches after all!”

“Yeah that’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I have no idea why people think that.”

“So how will you defeat the beast?”

“Silver and wolfsbane.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That’s it. Don’t tell me you didn’t even try wolfsbane.”

The mayor said nothing.

“Ah fuck me.”

“So you’ll take care of it?”

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.”

“And um… the sacrifices?”

“Yeah, you’re going to prison.”

“Noble monster hunter! Thank goodness you’re here! We’ve had to sacrifice a villager to this werewolf each month to keep it at bay!” “That is quite possibly the worst course of action your village could take.”

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Abby

Based on this prompt

Word count: 2.9k words

Genre: fantasy, romance(?, very aro friendly)

Warnings: none I could find, please tell me if there should be.

----------

“You can call me Abby,” came a voice, soft, friendly, not entirely what you’d expect from the manifestation of the uncaring universe, but it’s not like it could’ve been somebody else here, far beyond the areas where anyone came back from. “What’s your name?”

“Uhm…” I didn’t exactly have an answer. Not a good one. Names were for important things: the Abyss was important. It was called many things: the darkness at the end of the world, the other light, the void of all voids. It was feared, respected, worshiped, maintained at bay with frequent sacrifices. I was just one of the many maintenance tools. 

“They called me J.” I gave up on thinking of anything better. “Short for Sacrificial Person J-318.” 

I reached for the name plaque on my neck only for my fingers to grab nothing.

Right. They didn’t want to waste the metal.

All I was spared for my last journey was a simple robe of undyed fabric. And the blindfold, of course. Even if all other aspects of my education were lacking to nonexistent, the one thing they made sure to hammer into my head was to never take off the blindfold. 

I shifted from foot to foot, unable to see the Great Abyss’s – or Abby’s, if that’s what it wants to call itself – expression. I mean, it probably didn’t matter what it thought of my silly excuse of a name, or of me. The best I could hope for is that it’d find the taste of my soul satisfying enough to not destroy the world for a few more decades. 

“...Is that all?” Its voice turned cold. “Is that what you are?”

“Sorry?”

“Is that all you are? Are you Sacrificial Person J, end of the story?”

“There’s also the 318. It’s to make the names less repetitive.” I added, helpfully. Really, what was it angry about? Was it vain enough to that demand its meals have fancy names? 

“Human,” I could feel its breath on my cheek, neither warm nor cold, just a different sort of wind, “Do you know how lucky you are? Do you know how much you have up here, in this love-ridden world of yours?”

Footsteps.

For the first time, the sound of the wind, the rustling of dry grass, and the piercing emptiness at the edge of the world got interrupted by something other than a voice. Light as they were, they sounded much closer than anything I’d be comfortable with.

Was the Abyss supposed to have footsteps? Wasn’t it just a sort of wall? Whatever it was, it stopped right in front of me, close enough that if I’d reach out my hand, I’d probably touch it. I swallowed. I hoped desperately it wouldn’t do the same.

It’s pathetic, really. All my life I’ve been expected to do this one thing, which would be for the good of everyone, and yet, here I am, clinging to every heartbeat as if it’s worth something.

“Yes, sir, uh… Sir? Ma’am?”

“Abby’s fine.”

“Abby…” It felt terribly informal to refer to the plague of humanity by such a nickname, but who am I to argue. “I don’t know much about my world, but I’ve been told it’s nice. Many people seem to be very intent on saving it, at least.”

“Saving it?” It– Abby sounded amused, “From me, I presume?”

I shrugged, pulling what I hoped would pass for an apologetic smile over my face. When a dark void suddenly appears at the edge of your world, making everyone near it disappear without a trace, it’s only natural that people would find it alarming. 

The grass rustled, and with it, rustled something else – clothes, or hair, or whatever Abby had. My limbs started turning numb. I wondered if I could raise my hands to breathe on them but gave up on the idea in fear of accidentally touching the creature. Then again, catching a cold was the least of my worries.

The silence was stretching too long.

“It would be easier to talk if I could show you something,” Abby said quietly. It almost sounded nervous – as if it had anything to be nervous about.

“No!” I shook my head in fervent denial. I could break any other rule, but not this one. Looking at the Abyss does things to people. Nobody clarified what those things are, exactly, but the general consensus was that having your soul devoured was a far more favorable outcome.

“I see…" There was a quiet tapping. An image of a person with their arms crossed, fingers drumming on their forearm surfaced in my mind and I quickly chased it away. “Then would you listen to me if I told you a story?”

“Do I have a choice?” I shut my mouth tight, but the words had already escaped. That’s it, good work, J: you made the thing already intent on killing you angry with you. 

“I don’t think you fully understand your situation here…” Abby took a deep breath. “You are free to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have no intention of doing anything to you. I don’t require sacrifices. You can go. You’re free.”

I could clearly make out the sounds and put them into words, but they fell apart before I could find any sense in them.

Yes, it’s ridiculous to be angry at a monster for refusing to devour your soul, but then and there, all I could think about was how meaningless I was.

“Free?” I echoed.

Ef, er, ee. There is a word for when words lose meaning, some fancy name I wasn’t taught along with many other things. There was no reason to teach it to me – I was supposed to do this one thing, and, and– “So… You don’t need me?” I heard a quiet, broken voice. It must’ve been mine. 

“I didn’t say I don’t need you. I said I don’t require sacrifices. But could you… would you mind listening to my story?” 

The grass rustled with the wind and the crude fabric rubbed against my skin and the blindfold pressed my hair to my head in all the wrong ways and it was just too much – I moved, not really having a direction in mind outside of my determination to not be here and now and, best of all, not be myself.

My legs got tangled in the long robe and before I could process what was happening, someone was supporting me, their hands neither cold nor warm to the touch. 

I nodded with the apathy of a person who just learned that the one role they were assigned their whole life was no longer needed. Sure thing, monologue at me. Use me as a footstool, or a toothpick, or whatever you need, you suddenly-not-devouring-any-souls-today bastard. 

“A long time ago – no, that’s a terrible way to start… No, I don’t have anything better, actually…” Abby cleared its throat and began again: “There was a… thing. Yes, that’s what it was, a thing. It could move and breathe and… consume other things, but it didn’t have enough autonomy to call it a monster. It was made to destroy and terrify, and it did just that, again and again to world after world. It destroyed – no, it was used to destroy, it had no part in the decision-making – it was used like that, until…” 

Apparently, the Great Abyss was not adept at reading minds, not reacting to my mental jab and beginning its story. It was still supporting me – I wasn’t sure I could stand on my own then and had no interest in finding out.

Its voice, clear and gentle, was almost calming. I should’ve probably bothered reminding myself that it was in no way a nice creature, no matter what its voice sounded like, but that required energy I didn’t have, and so, I listened.

Abby’s breath was in heavy shudders. The way it clung to me, it was hard to make out who was supporting who.

“Until?” I prompted. I wasn’t sure how to comfort it, or if I wanted to comfort it, given its nature, but the grip on my shoulders loosened.

“Until something changed. Maybe its creator made a mistake, maybe it saw one too many worlds get destroyed by it, or maybe it was just around for too long, but it had a thought, its very first thought. It was right here, actually, on this field. It was approaching this world, its first thought forming in its mind, and… And there was a herd of those white, fluffy things, and a human to watch over them. They didn’t have the time to do anything, of course, because the thing was good at destroying, and before they could understand what was happening, the piece of land they were on didn’t exist anymore. There was just the thing, emptiness, and the thing’s first decision. Do you know what that decision was?”

I shook my head. Abby almost whispered, its voice tired and small, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I won’t do this anymore.’ That’s what it thought. And then it stopped. That was the first thing it did because it wanted to.”

“And then?” I asked. The wind was still freezing cold, my robe was still scratchy and my blindfold was still just as uncomfortable as the next piece of cloth tied around one’s eyes, but all of it felt distant, muted, like this was the story and Abby’s voice was the real thing.

“And then it had another thought, and another, and many more. It thought about the worlds it saw, and– and the things it did, or was used to do and wasn’t able to understand or stop, and it came to its second important decision: ‘I don’t want to be this anymore. I can be something else.” Abby was shaking, and I knew that had nothing to do with the wind. 

“Something else…” I echoed. Its hands were still on my shoulders, but now it was clear who was standing firm and who needed someone to hold on to. I reached out, gingerly, somewhat expecting to bump into something sharp or inhumanly cold, or maybe for my hands to reach nothing at all, until I felt the touch of the soft fabric covering its back. I stood like that, rather awkwardly wondering if I should pat it, or if perhaps the harbinger of doom personified needed a hug. Instead, I said: “I can understand that.”

It was quiet for a while, Abby’s breathing and the wind mixing so that I had trouble telling one from the other, the cloth under my fingers and the hands on my shoulders neither cold nor warm. For an irrational second, I thought it might disappear, or that I’ve imagined it altogether in my desperate attempt to come up with a scenario where I get to live. 

“You don’t have to finish that story if you don’t want to,” I addressed the space which I hoped was Abby. 

“No, I want to finish this. I want you to know what happens next if you’d listen.” 

“Fine, I’ll listen. But I have to warn you beforehand that I am not good at consoling people.”

Abby laughed. It had the short, quiet laugh of a person who wasn’t used to laughing, hardly any better than my own. “It’s more than enough if you listen. So,” Abby cleared its throat, “the thing was no longer a thing: it could think and wish, and it was aware of itself, but that awareness was far from pleasant. In that state, it would not be wrong to call it a monster: a creature incapable of not being a disaster by its very design. But it did have something: it had itself, and a world it could observe from a distance, and it had time, all the time there is. It watched, and it learned, and it worked on itself, or rather on making itself into something it was not made to be. 

“Every once in a while, some people would drop off a blindfolded person – a ‘sacrifice’, as it learned, and it tried communicating with these sacrifices, but they would always run away as soon as they’d be given the chance. It was lonely, of course, but it could understand that. Everyone wants to live, that’s just how living things work, and that’s wonderful. But one day – and now we’re getting to the really strange part – there was a person who didn’t run away. Now, that person didn’t want to die, at least I don’t think so, but there was something different about them, and not in a way that’s good for them. I was wondering if you could tell me why they’re like that?” 

“Now listen, I think we agreed you do the talking and I do the nodding along,” I protested being pulled into the narration. “Besides, there’s not much to tell.”

“I don’t think that’s so.”

“Well, it’s nice of you to say that, but there really isn’t anything interesting about that person. They were born, left, picked up by a cult, and raised to be a sacrifice for the Abyss. They used to think it was wrong, to try to escape or to find a way to stop the sacrifice tradition altogether, and… ”

“And?”

“And then they stopped. They were tired and alone and all they did ended up being pointless. Their name has ‘sacrificial person’ in it, so what do you want from them?”

“...to not stand around when they think a monster is going to eat them?”

“But it’s not a monster, and it’s not going to eat them, so it all turned out well, right?”

“...I really don’t think I can just explain this one. I know I asked this before, but could I show you something?”

I opened my mouth to say “no” and felt a wave of apathy wash over me. Abby’s story kept me distracted for a while, but this… conversation? Argument? Reminded me of just what situation I’m in. Horrors beyond your run-of-the-mill soul-devouring paled in comparison to the throbbing nothingness that made its home in my chest. “Sure, why not.”

Abby carefully took its hands off my shoulders and went to stand behind me. “You can take off your blindfold now,” it said, a slight trembling in its voice, although of the two of us it would make much more sense for me to be the anxious one.

I reached for the tightly tied fabric, my only thought being how much relief I’d feel with this thing finally off my head. In one motion I tore it off and threw it to the ground, or rather tried to, the wind getting to the strip of cloth faster than gravity and carrying it to the void.

The void. There really isn’t another word to encompass what it was.

It wasn’t black the same way the sky isn’t tall, a gaping hole that could only be perceived as nighttime frozen solid. It was vast, a wall and a pit and a plane simultaneously, stretching across all dimensions, gobbling them up, and yet it wasn’t half the horror it was made out to be.

It was still, and in that stillness was a finality, the stars in its mass dim and dusty, clouds clogging its pristine darkness like cobwebs.

“This,” Abby’s voice came from behind me, “is the thing I was telling you about. Dreadful, isn’t it?”

“No, not really. Just… different. And sad.”

I stared at the Abyss, the colossal being looking so empty, a husk of what it must’ve been. My feet took a step forward before I could form a thought. There was no way I could help this creature, but leaving it like this wasn’t something I could do.

“Don’t!–” Abby grabbed my arm before I could take another step– “It’s dead. The Abyss is no longer a thing that exists, and the world is better for it – I am better for it.”

I turned back, a rebuke forming and freezing halfway to my tongue. In the field behind me, a stark contrast to the yellow grass and grayish sky, stood Abby. 

It was of the same midnight matter as the Abyss, its skin deep blue and star-freckled, but it was not the formless mass: it was a person, every line of it exact with the precision of a carving and alive beyond what any carving could achieve, no matter how well-made. 

“It doesn’t exist,” Abby repeated, its voice softer. “I’m Abby, and I know you’re not ‘Sacrificial Person J-318’ any more than I am the Abyss. So, what’s your name?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, making the valiant effort to stop staring at Abby’s hair glistening with all shades of moonlight, “but I have no choice but to figure it out, do I?”

Abby beamed, the stars on its cheek shining as bright as its smile. 

“I hope you realize that as the one responsible for all this, you’re obligated to come along.” Those were probably the bravest words I have ever said in my entire life. 

“I… didn’t think about it like that. Do you want me to?”

“Of course, I want you to! Now, are we getting out of this damn field or not?” 

Abby opened its mouth, looked at the Abyss, back at me, closed its mouth, and silently nodded. 

I offered Abby my hand and it took it naturally, matching its pace to mine.

The horizon was still all fields, but soon, there would be mountains, and after that: who knows.

The great thing about being at the edge of the world is that the whole world is in front of you. 

[cloudycrystalkpop]

Serpentine

pairing: Leviathan! I.M x human! gender neutral reader

summery: drowned by an eldritch creature, you awaken confused, at the feet of an envious demon.

warnings: death and drowning, Christian mythology, occult themes, mild nudity, creature!Changkyun????

words: 753

notes: I've been playing a lot of Obey Me... don’t ask. should also probably read some Lovecraft if I wanna continue this story

~

drowning, that is now where you found yourself. suffocation was not an ideal way to die, but all the same, you didn't think it would be so... calming. the panic fell to the back of your mind, heart racing and lungs burning, in your focus however, was the creature in the water before you. 

you wondered if they would eat you. the shimmering rows of teeth could slice your flesh like razors. to spite death laying heavy on your tongue, you let your eyes wander over the creature. they were as beautiful as they were horrifying. 

serpentine, scales shimmered in the slanted rays of light. the spines of the creature glowed, bio luminescent in the murky water. they moved gracefully, easily the size of a large navel ship, every feature perfectly symmetrical. 

the taste of death was that of salt water, as it plunged into your lungs. 

~

wet. filth. the scent of dead rotting fish invaded your sense. you bolted upright, coughing and sputtering black putrid water. it tastes like a sewer, only serving to gag you further. 

“better out than in.” growled a deep masculine voice. 

your body shivered, suddenly aware of your own nakedness. your hair stuck to your skin, an overwhelming feeling of some kind of goo coating your flesh. 

raising your head you found a pair of boots in your line of sight. trailing up, torn and faded trousers, mold and rot practically sewn into the garment. above them, an equally distressed navel jacket, pins and badges also scraped and torn. a pair of arms crossed over the chest, and finally the man’s face. 

a feeling a shame came over you as his eyes trailed over your nude form, nothing but vague amusement in his eyes. he was beautiful, his hair dark as ink. it lay limply, faint curls weighed by dampth, framing his cheeks. 

“...who are you?” the words were choked from your abused throat. he quirked an eyebrow, eyes trailing over your body slowly. 

“... I am what I am.” he grinned. your breath hitched as rows of sharp teeth greeted you. a forked tongue peeked out to wet his lips as he chuckled darkly. 

“...God?” the man let out a rumbling laugh at your confusion. 

“oh little human, he won't help you down here.” his eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“are you Death then?” you asked again. he smiled, this one less twisted than the last. 

“one form of it to you.” he leaned down, placing his palm on your head. “it isn't often I find a human bold enough to drown in my lair.” you flinched, his skin cold to the touch. 

lair... a memory crawled back to the forefront of your mind. 

your arms tied, mouth gagged, thrown into a pit, a portal as the occult called it. you were scarified. thrown into the Lair of the Leviathan. 

“...Leviathan... the prince of hell... a sea serpent...” your eyes widened as it dawned on you you’d spoken out loud. 

“you are quicker than most humans. I'll give you that.” the hand on your head was gentle as it stroked your scalp. “those occultists who threw you down there to die, intended to offer you as a sacrifice to me.” he purred, now leaning down on one knee. 

“now tell me, little human, should I except?” tilting your chin up with one finger. 

“...no sir. they simply intend to use you as a stepping stone... to grant power from your brothers.” you spoke, pleased with the confidence in your voice. 

“of course they do.” the creature before you growled in anger. the air around him became cold, causing you to shiver once more. “greedy, stupid humans. they lust for power. I am never seen as anything but an after thought. the lot of you to seduced by my brothers and their stupid parlor tricks.” 

the venom of jealousy dripped from his words. 

“you understand you will gain nothing from this. your life is already forfeit at my claws.” his attention fell back to you once again. now gripping your chin, nails sharp against your skin. 

“yes sir. that is why I have no reason to lie to you.” your voice was soft as you finally raised your eyes to meet his. pools of purple and green greeted you, swirling like whirlpools. 

“...well done little human.” he stood, now pulling you to your feet as well. “you are an unappetizing sacrifice, however,” he circled you, movements fluid and graceful. “...you will make an amusing little pet. come with me.” 

[mintwithchoco]

beaux rêves: Ep 1 - Frisky

ITZY Yeji x Male Reader

Word Count: 2285 words

Categories: smut, oral, lapdance, facial, stripper! yeji

aff link

If you had the chance to stay in a dream that you've been longing for, would you sacrifice your life for it?

❍

"Come on, it's gonna be fun!" is what your friends said before leaving you by yourself close to the door of the strip club.

Seeing how burned out you were because of work, your friend decided to drag you out of the house to ‘de-stress’. Never in wildest dreams have you thought about coming to a place full of drunkards and creeps to release all your tensions.

Sighing deeply in regret, you walked through a number of people and took a seat on one of the bar stools. Moments later, you were greeted by a short-haired blonde woman, dressed in a typical bartender suit.

"Hello sir I'm Ryujin, the bartender that will be serving you tonight. What would you like to drink?"

"Uhh, just give me a glass of your coldest beer please. Thank you."

"Coming right up." Ryujin said, preparing your drink while you turned your attention to the large volume of people that was increasing in size and quickly forming a crowd close to the stage.

There was a black chair in the middle of the stage with a spotlight shining down on it. Suddenly, all the lights went out but within a matter of seconds. Just as quickly, the stage was clear to the eyes once again. A woman was sitting there with her legs spread out and her hands on the edge of the chair.

She was wearing a black silky long sleeve shirt with another sleeveless silky top that shows off her midriff, topping it off with tight black leggings that beautifully hugged her curves. Because of her head being down, you weren’t able to see what she looked like.

As the music starts, the crowd starts to cheer loudly. Her head perks up with the beat of the music in which it reveals her face. Your mouth opens as you were stunned, thinking that her godly visual was not fitting for the place that she’s in. She moves gracefully while sitting on the chair, following the rhythm of the song perfectly.

When she finally stood up, her right leg stepped onto the chair, showing off her legs before running her hands upwards on it while smirking towards the audience. Then, she rotates her left leg to the other side of the chair, allowing you to see her backside. She continues to show off her moves on the chair before going up to the front, making the audience cheer for her next act.

You cannot keep your eyes off of her. ‘How does she dance so powerfully while maintaining a sense of elegance to it?’, you thought to yourself. You were so focused on the stage until you didn’t realize Ryujin was calling out to you with your drink ready.

Ryujin taps on your shoulder, giving you a little shock as you turn around to see your drink on the table. She smiles and leans forward on the counter beside you to watch the performance.

“That’s Yeji, the number one stripper here. Sales always goes up when she’s performing.” Ryujin said as you took a little sip on your beer and turned your chair to face the stage.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Your eyes widened as Yeji showed off her flexibility by hiking her legs straight up while on her knees.

“She’s so fucking hot. If I had a cock, I would fuck her right now on stage.” You turn your head towards Ryujin with a confused and slightly concerned expression.

“What? Judging by how that bulge is sticking out from your pants, I bet you’d do that as well.” Ryujin mentioned your growing erection, making you blush because of how noticeable it is.

“There’s no need to be shy. In fact, I’m also a little wet right now.” Ryujin said without any hesitance and giggled.

Shrugging off her words, your focus was back on the stage. Yeji continues to dominate with her moves, showing off a bit of her cleavage as she lays down for a routine and goes back to her knees while spinning her hair around. To say you were impressed was an understatement, you were astonished by how much she exerts sexiness while dancing to a song that was not sensual at all.

Eventually, the song was reaching its end. Yeji finishes her routine by sticking her ass out and bringing her hand close to her face, slowly straightening her back as the music fades in the background. The crowd cheers in response, throwing a few bills onto the stage for her. You watched intently as Yeji collects all the money, waving her hand to the audience with an adorable smile before quickly leaving the stage and disappearing backstage.

As the next girl went up the stage to perform, your mind was filled with impure thoughts of Yeji. You turned your chair towards the bar to order another glass of beer while trying to calm down your erection that was poking out the entire time.

Chugging down the last bit of your beer, you suddenly felt the urge to pee. Obviously you weren’t familiar with this place, so you called out to Ryujin who was cleaning some shot glasses to ask about the restroom.

“There’s one behind the bar and another one on that corner, close to the stage. The toilet back there is a little dirty though, so you might wanna go to the other one.” Ryujin explained.

“Hm, alright. Thanks Ryujin.” You said before heading towards the second toilet that Ryujin mentioned.

“Have fun.”

Not caring to see the door that was named “staff only”, you quickly went inside the restroom that Ryujin claimed it was. That was until you saw a familiar figure, sitting on a couch in a corner of the room, playing with her phone. As you observe your surroundings, you start to realize that you may have gotten into the changing room. Before you could sneakily leave, the person in the room looked towards you.

There was no denial. The stripper that you admired just now, Yeji, was now in a room with you. She was still wearing the outfit from her performance earlier. You were frozen in place and your anxiety builds up as she stared at you intently up and down.

“S-Sorry that I’ve b-bothered yo-” You said while turning your back towards the door before getting cut off by Yeji.

“Wait!” Your eyes widened and you turned to face her who was getting closer towards you.

"Did Ryujin send you here?" Yeji was now right in front of you, scanning you as a whole, making your heart beat uncontrollably fast.

"Hm… Ryujin was right, you are pretty cute. What would you say if I...give you a lapdance?” Yeji said while biting her lower lip.

You almost choked on your saliva upon hearing her words. Even though it was all too sudden, it was certainly an offer that you cannot pass up. You nodded slowly in agreement and with that, Yeji made a 'follow me' gesture and led you towards the couch.

Yeji immediately pushes you down to the couch and pounces on your lap. She gets to work instantly by wrapping her hands around your neck and rotating her hips in a slow manner. Her seductive eyes gazed upon yours and her rosy lips made a smirk, acknowledging how Yeji definitely knows what she's doing to you.

Blood rushes into your lower region in a matter of minutes, as Yeji continues to grind her crotch onto yours. Your cock was now as hard as it could be, begging to be released from its confines. Yeji leans in closer towards you, the heat radiating from her body was seen by her cheeks turning red while you desperately squirmed around.

“Enjoying the show baby?” You nodded.

“Ohoho, don’t cum yet, I still have a lot of things to do to you.” Yeji whispered the last sentence into your ear, making you shiver in delight.

Just then, Yeji took off her shirt and threw it on the floor, exposing her toned shoulders and arms. Further emphasizing your point, her defined abs stood out the most in your eyes. You swore they were crafted by the gods just because of how perfect they looked. Not to mention her torso was dangerously close to your face, allowing you to see her little cleavage under the black top.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Yeji grabs your chin to make you face her.

“No need to be so shy, I love it when I make people moan.”

Increasing the friction between both of your crotches by grinding her hips faster, Yeji smiled as you finally moaned for the first time. Suddenly, she slips her hand under your pants and boxers to grasp your warm shaft.

“Holy shit…You’ve been hiding this the entire time?” Your pants and boxers were yanked down, unleashing your cock, throbbing with some precum.

“Fuck…” At last, you spoke a word as you felt the pleasure from her releasing the tension on your cock.

Now on her knees, Yeji gave your cock a few strokes after spitting some saliva on it. Her hands swiftly move up and down with ease, making you leak for her even more. Licking her lips, Yeji took you inside her inviting mouth, sucking on your tip by hollowing her cheeks. You moaned loudly and tilted your head back in satisfaction.

“You taste so good…I can’t wait to put this inside of me.” Yeji said before taking you in once again, this time deeper into her mouth. Inch by inch she bobs her head, the warmness of her mouth driving you into ecstasy.

Her pace on your cock was fast - your moans getting louder as each second passed. You promptly put your right hand on the back of Yeji’s hand, guiding her until suddenly, her lips reached the base of your shaft, making you grunt while Yeji deepthroats you fully.

After holding her there for some time, you release your grip and Yeji instantly releases you out of her mouth followed by strings of saliva, breathing heavily after. Her hand quickly strokes you a few more times before she gets up from the floor and sits on your lap once again.

You both stared at each other with a lustful gaze, knowing what the other wants. Yeji unbuttons your dress shirt while you peel off her top, her tight leggings, and panties from her legs, leaving you both naked. After throwing them away somewhere in the room, both of your lips drive themselves closer together, eventually making out and exchanging saliva with each other.

“Ahh, put it inside already… I’m so fucking wet right now.” Yeji said as she showed you her pussy that was already dripping with her juices.

Not wasting anymore time, you grabbed her hips and slammed it onto your crotch, inserting your cock deep inside her without any resistance. Yeji screams in ecstasy, your cock fully filling her insides in which the sensation has never been felt by her before. After adjusting your position, you move her hips up and down, forcing Yeji to put her hands on your shoulders for stabilization. She throws her head back in pleasure - never in her life has she felt someone who was as big as you.

You continue to pierce her tight cunt with a faster rhythm, her juices wetting both of your crotches, acknowledging that you were doing a great job. Your hunger for her starts to take over as your mouth latches onto her pink right nipple, gently sucking and biting it to give Yeji more dopamine. As you move on to the other nipple, Yeji runs her hands through your hair before gripping it tightly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to cum baby, faster please!” Yeji shouts, not caring about whoever could hear her from the outside.

You drive your hips as fast as you could until Yeji finally reaches her peak, cumming all over your cock as her juices flowed out like a waterfall, staining your crotch and the couch below. You slowed down your pace to let Yeji orgasm before pumping your shaft deep into her sensitive pussy once more to gain maximum pleasure due to her cumming. Yeji let out a shriek as her walls were pierced again and again by your cock until her body flopped onto yours, too indulged and weakened due to the pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum Yeji, I'm gonna fucking cum!” You announced.

Yeji suddenly wakes up and gets off your dick immediately and goes down on her knees. She strokes your throbbing cock at a high-speed while licking the swollen tip to force you into your orgasm.

“Cover my face baby, paint it with your thick and tasty cum.”

As you let out a loud groan, streaks of your semen came bursting out from your tip and landed on her gorgeous features. She sticks out her tongue as you shoot more and more of your cum, eventually almost covering the whole of her face with your remark. After the last bit of your semen was released, Yeji sucked on your cock to make sure that not a single drop was wasted.

“Mmm, your cum tastes even better than your precum.” Yeji said as she tried to lick some of the cum on her lips.

Yeji looked up to see your exhausted expression, leaning your head back on the headrest while panting heavily after the intense orgasm that you just had. She giggled softly and grabbed something from the table beside the couch.

“Here’s my number, if you’re hungry for more.”

[versadies]

Hello! Can i request scaramouche x reader (before dating) where the reader is very optimistic and happy-go-lucky and a scaramouches assistant?

—THE TERRIFYING AND THE JOYOUS, a hc.

penpal: i love opposite attract relationship so thank you for this request 👊👊👊

pairing/s: scaramouche x gn!reader

sypnosis: in which the loneliest harbinger of all has one friend.

warning/s: ooc scaramouche (?), toxic (this is scaramouche we’re talking about), threats (harmless?), mild swearing.

-> everyone who knows the terrifying scaramouche will agree that whoever is his assistant must’ve suffered a lot from the harbinger.

-> consider them surprised when they realized that one of the most joyous fatui members known around the organization is scaramouche’s one and only assistant and the fact that you don’t act like you’re his assistant.

-> i think he didn’t intend on having an assistant, since he has his subordinates to do the dirty work. he probably has one just to handle his busy schedule or because he got so annoyed with a subordinate that he decided to hire an assistant to not deal with any subordinates at all.

-> during your first months with the guy, he’ll treat you like how he treats everyone. harsh and insensitive.

-> “hey, call one of those idiots who are assigned on that mission and tell them to go here— oh and drop that look on your face will you?”

-> “cancel the trip to liyue. you better do it right now or you’re fired.”

-> and people are wondering how the hell you’re still sane from how scaramouche treats you

-> as his assistant, he def makes it hell-like.

-> when you arrive to his office, he’ll give you many duties such as: visiting a visitor that he’s supposed to meet but doesn’t want to because the visitor is an ass, acquire some resources for a mission, buy some items in case scaramouche doesn’t have the time for it, clean up his office while he’s away, etc.

-> honestly, it’ll probably take a year or so for scaramouche to act comfortably around you. when he does, it’s most likely because of how he’s used to your presence to the point where he always calls your name and didn’t realize you’re somewhere far away.

-> he’ll still treat you harsh though— just not threatening like before.

-> scaramouche won’t get used to your attitude at all. he feels weird whenever you get so joyous for little reasons but never comments on it anymore.

-> as he starts to notice you a lot, the harbinger will start to wonder why a person who is full of positivity be a part of the fatui. he’ll be suspicious of you and think that you’re a spy.

-> at first, he wanted to request for another fatui agent who can be his assistant instead, but after hearing from you that the tsaritsa is the one who sent you, he knew he was doomed.

-> but after many investigations and logic, he’ll be frustrated with how there are no signs of you being a spy. all he has is information on your background (which didn’t help at all). he then decided to not dwell on you being a potential threat to him and just be cautious around you.

-> most of his suspicion washed away when u protected him from a certain astrologist’s attack when you two were investigating on meteors that have fallen and made people fall asleep. the fact that you’re willing to sacrifice for him is definitely something a spy wouldn’t do.

-> “i’m just doing my job as an assistant, boss.” you’d say happily when scaramouche asked harshly why you protected him (despite you knowing he can handle by himself just fine).

-> by the time scaramouche is finally comfortable around you, he’ll treat you nicer than the others. he’ll start to increase your payday, will ask if you have eaten yet, make sure you’re by his side by glancing on you whenever you two walk together around the lands teyvat could offer, etc.

-> and yes, the way he does this is not as affectionate as you might think.

-> “what do you mean i increased your salary? i don’t even care how much you get paid.”

-> “did you eat lunch yet? wait, no? are you an idiot or what—?! when you’re getting hungry, don’t try to escape your duties as my assistant just to eat. it’s your fault for not eating yet.”

-> “why am i glancing back at you? well obviously i’m just checking if you’ll stab me in the back! just because you’re my assistant doesn’t mean i trust you wholly.”

-> scaramouche doesn’t know why but he often feels guilt swallowing him every night whenever he speaks ill at you.

-> me? feeling guilty for some assistant? pathetic, he’d thought.

-> since you’re a happy-go-lucky and optimistic person, you’d give compliments to other people right?

-> well congratulations, you’re now scaramouche’s ego booster.

-> “well done sir, your enemies are no match for your powerful vision.”

-> “the tsaritsa will be pleased with the outcome of this mission, boss.”

-> ngl, scaramouche would find your personality innocent. he’ll either have the urge to protect you or have dark thoughts about it.

-> he’ll definitely defend you if he hears a single person badmouthing about you. whether or not it’s a harbinger, a fatui agent— he’ll use whatever he has to his advantage and make them regret in even looking at you in such a bad light.

-> if there’s somehow a time when scaramouche falls in love with you, he will take a long time to even confess about it. why, you ask?

-> it takes a long time for this man to finally accept that he fell in love.

-> i’d think scaramouche would soon realize that he does love you when you’re away for a long time. when he does, he’ll try to either keep it to himself or try to ignore it until it becomes too irresistible.

-> he’ll start to lowkey try to get closer to you by taking his advantage as your superior. oh, you do your paperwork in your home? well would you look at that, you now have your own office besides scaramouche’s. oh you don’t follow scaramouche whenever he walks around inazuma for his errands requested by the tsaritsa? oh looks like you have to follow him and assist him in every way you can.

-> the choice of being oblivious to scaramouche’s (failed) advances is definitely up to you. either way, it’s either you wait for a longass time for him to confess, confront him about your feelings yourself or none of you are planning to confess at all.

-> either way, when the time is right, you’ll definitely be considered as someone he considers as a companion, if not friend or lover.

-> cue slow burn 🤌🤌

[let-them-read-fics]

Flames

Requested By Anon "King" -- Cooking au, enemies to lovers, inspiration from Hell's Kitchen

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

AU: Chef (Lisa & Reader are chefs)

Word Count: ~ 5,904

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering / Rivalry, Fluff, Suggestive Scene

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Helllloooo, peeps! I hope all of you are taking care of yourselves and having great days / nights, wherever you are :) Special thanks to this anon for being so sweet in their request -- I love cooking shows, too, so this was a fun one to write. Thank you for requesting! You're welcome in my inbox anytime ❤ Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Three sirloins, dying on the pass!" You shout out to your fellow chefs, shaking your head in disapproval. Service has been running fairly smoothly tonight, but a recent influx of celebrities coming from a nearby award show is slowing things to a halt. 

You give attention to the pans in front of you, stirring each of them in the pattern you've set and keeping a steady rhythm. Consistency is key, and you're one of the only chefs who hasn't lost focus yet. 

The other? Lisa Manoban. 

"Side dishes heading to the pass," she announces, setting the pans down for your head chef to plate and approve of. He does so without a second thought, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

The cocky smirk on Lisa's lips soon falters, though, when he gives her a warning. "You were almost too late, Manoban. Speed things up. Y/N is keeping the pace set, and you need to follow suit." 

Checkmate.

"Yes, chef," she nods, though you can tell she's annoyed. You snicker quietly, and thankfully the sounds of the kitchen conceal your little noise. If your manager were to hear you you'd surely get reprimanded, and Lisa doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing that. 

She returns to her station across from you, briefly meeting your gaze as a competitive fire flashes in her eyes, ignited by the comment from your higher-up.  

This is the routine that the two of you have settled into ever since you were hired five months ago. Both of you had applied for the same position, and you quickly worked your way up to where you are now. Every time you were promoted, she was never far behind. The tense nature of your relationship (if you'd even call it that) is rooted in who can put out the best tasting dishes and receive the most recognition and praise for their work. It's childish, but you'd be lying to say that part of you doesn't enjoy it. 

Especially when you win. 

Tonight is shaping up to be one of those nights, and your confidence builds with every compliment you receive. You don't let it go to your head, though; if anything, you use it as a reason to push yourself harder. 

Lisa isn't discouraged in the slightest, and she produces some of her best work right alongside yours.

"Chef, table 15 has requested for the cooks who prepared their dishes to come out to their table. They want to thank them properly," the server informs your manager, cocking his head to the side to motion towards them. 

After recognizing them as a pair of world-renowned fashion designers, he decides to sacrifice some of his best cooks' time on the line and grant their wishes. 

"What dishes did they have?" 

"Both ordered the sirloin and asparagus with potato purée, sir." 

Your head shoots up at that, excited by the confirmation of what you had been hoping for. Your senior nods to the server, turning around at the pass to look at you. 

"Y/N, Lisa; head out to greet our guests, please." 

"Right away, sir."

"On it, chef."

Both of you inform your assistants of the time left on your respective components before following after the waiter. Lisa not-so-subtly elbows you in an attempt to walk in front of you, but you step on her foot to prevent her from doing so. 

Pushing and shoving each other like schoolgirls until you're in line of sight of the customers, you follow the waiter up to their table. He leaves shortly after dropping you off.

"Good evening, ladies," you greet with a smile, watching as their faces light up. 

Lisa steps forward and extends a hand to one of them, making a crimson blush rush to her cheeks. A new feeling blossoms in your chest at their interaction, and you don't know how to take it. Deciding to just move on, you ask about their meals. 

"I hope dinner was everything you wanted it to be."

"Oh, absolutely. The sirloin was cooked perfectly. Which one of you is responsible for it?"

A proud smile forms on your lips at that, and you bow your head lightly. "Me, miss. I'm glad you enjoyed." 

"I'll have to come back more often, then. Cute and skilled? Count me in." She smirks at you, eyes taking in the sight of you in your uniform as she shamelessly flirts. You blush under her gaze, but hide it with a smug smile of your own.

"We'd be lucky to have you back anytime." 

You shoot a glance at the other girl as well, making sure to keep her feeling included. Lisa's eye roll goes unnoticed by you, as does the dejected look that threatens to show on her beautiful face. 

"My favorite part was the side dishes. The sirloin was great, but that purée was delicious. And don't even get me started on the risotto from earlier," the other woman gushes, praising Lisa's work for the night. The Thai girl perks up at that, her confidence on its way to being fully restored. 

"Ah, you're too kind." She attempts to sound humble, but you know the truth; she lives for this sort of thing. The rush of cooking and serving up dish after tasty dish is thrilling, but nothing compares to getting compliments from the customers. 

"I'm just stating facts..." she leans forward in her chair, obviously eyeing Lisa's chest as she reads her name off of her chef coat, "...Lisa." 

"Oh, yeah? How about I whip you up another batch, then? Any side you want." Your rival offers, a bruisingly sexy smile on her face as she gazes down at the woman. It isn't new for either of you to flirt with the customers and schmooze your way into their hearts (and wallets), but something in the way Lisa admires the diner makes you jealous. 

Her eyes scan over the menu as if she's looking through the options again, but she turns back to bite her lip and toy with Lisa some more. "Are you on the menu?"

She chuckles at the line, clearly not expecting that; she should've, though; it's one of the most overused pick-ups that you've ever heard. 

"I can be--"

Just as Lisa goes to lean closer to her, the waiter comes back. For some reason unknown to you, you release a breath of relief, thankful for the interruption. 

"I hate to break this up, but our chefs are needed back in the kitchen." He informs, linking his arms behind his back respectfully. 

"Ah, that's too bad. Maybe we'll stick around until service is over." Lisa's fan says, looking to her friend with a shrug of her shoulders in a silent request for her opinion. 

"Maybe, if that's alright with you."

Your customer looks up at you with hopeful eyes, though she attempts to hide it to some degree; she's not as brazen as her counterpart. 

"Of course, darling," you decide to play into it. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I do recommend getting some dessert, though; pass the time a little faster. I'll be making the sweetened soufflé, if you're interested." 

"Sounds delicious; I'm sold." She smiles at you, looking you up and down one last time. 

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies." You nod, bidding both of them farewell as you turn to follow after the waiter. Lisa does the same, and you can feel her hot on your trail shortly after. 

"Back to your stations, both of you," your executive chef says upon your arrival, as if you had other intentions. 

"Yes, chef," both of you respond, heading back without a second thought. 

After pushing out a few more main dishes, you're instructed to rotate positions as the desert course kicks off. Other chefs will handle the remaining entrées now and allow you the opportunity to take over with the sweets. 

Once you've buttered and coated the soufflé dish with granulated sugar, you combine the appropriate ingredients in the bowl that rests on the countertop in front of you, making sure to keep an eye on the milk as it heats up on the stovetop. Once both tasks are completed, you stir some of the milk into the batter you made, tempering the mixture. After you're satisfied with the consistency of it, you add the rest of it back to the pot on the stove and carefully whisk the ingredients together. 

As that mellows out, you beat the egg whites required for the dish and add in the different extracts that the recipe calls for. Before long, you've folded both components in with one another and the dessert is ready to be baked. 

"Nice work, Y/N. Keep it up." Your head chef encourages, making pride swell in your chest again.

You continue on with that steady pace, and all of your soufflés come out as tasty as ever, receiving plenty of praise from your happy customers. Lisa works just as hard, though, and her toffee puddings are a major hit with the diners. 

Two hours later, dinner service is finally over. 

Lisa finishes cleaning up her station as she sneaks a glance over to you, feeling her heart beat a little faster at the way you push your hair out of your face. A few drops of condensation tumble their way down the bottle of water that you're drinking from, clearly exhausted and hot after working so hard for so long, and she bites her lip. You're too attractive for your own good, and Lisa reprimands herself for admiring you in such a way. 

You're practically enemies, after all; constantly striving for better positions and more attention, it's a never-ending battle of who can come out on top. She loves the game, if she's honest; keeping you on your toes is one of her favorite pastimes, and the banter is always a plus. 

Especially when it gets heated. 

She loves the way your brow twitches and your lips press together when you're forced to bite your tongue and keep the bickering to a minimum. You're too mature to play into her games most of the time -- not wanting to piss your head chef off -- but sometimes she gets you to break and fire off another reply, not caring what he'll say. 

She loves it. Nothing will ever compare to getting you riled up like that. 

"How's my girlfriend doing out there?" Lisa asks the server with a smile, tilting her head forward to motion to the dining room. 

"They're the only ones still here. I have to hand it to them; they're dedicated." He chuckles, clapping Lisa on the back as he passes her. "They've been talking about both of you all night." He concludes, looking between the two of you before retreating to the break room to change. 

Lisa laughs at that, and you curse yourself under your breath for enjoying the sound. 

"Come on, let's go see them before they storm the kitchen," she plays, winking at you as she pushes the swinging door open. 

At The Table, A Few Minutes Later

"I saved you a bite," your customer says, smiling at you as she reaches for a spoon that hasn't been used yet. Her friend catches the uncertain look in your eye, and she decides to ease your fears. 

"Don't worry, she didn't slobber all over it. She cut that piece out before she started eating earlier." 

You nod, thankful for the clarification. The woman turns back to Lisa, satisfied with her good deed for the day, and the two begin flirting again. 

After the woman in front of you scoops the tasty dessert up, she holds the spoon out in front of your lips. A knowing smile spreads across your cheeks, and you open your mouth for her to feed you. 

She's cute, you must say. Her auburn hair falls across her shoulders in perfect waves, complementing the velvety color of her leather jacket wonderfully. A pattern of freckles runs across the bridge of her nose, and a single, deep-set dimple presses into the soft skin of her right cheek. 

The sound of her laughter carries out across the room as you attempt to take the whole piece in one bite -- she offered way too much at once for a single bite, but you never back down from a challenge. 

Lisa subconsciously grips the tablecloth a little tighter when she sees her put a finger to your lips, preventing the food from spilling out and making a mess everywhere. You giggle and chew it up, eventually managing to swallow it without getting choked. Your fingers wrap around the customer's wrist, gently pulling her hand away from your lips as you rub her tender skin. 

The woman in front of Lisa sighs, clearly wanting attention. 

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She shakes her head, willing her envy to go away so she can flirt some more. 

"I was asking if you have plans tonight. You're probably tired from working, so I figured I could treat you to some R&R." Her tone drops lower than normal, and a suggestive look shines in her eyes as she gives Lisa another once-over. 

"Hmm, sounds like just what the doctor ordered," she leans in a bit closer, egging the girl on. They don't call Lisa a playgirl for nothing. 

"Your place or mine?" She whispers into her ear, sounding desperate to get the chef alone. 

"M-"

Lisa's response is abruptly cut off by the sound of a muffled noise of surprise from you, and she looks across the table again to find the other customer's lips pressed against yours. Your shoulders relax after a second as you return the gesture, but you eventually pull away to put some distance between the two of you. 

Fuming, now too jealous to think straight, Lisa unceremoniously stands from her seat and steps around the table to you. The fact that she was just a few minutes away from taking her customer home and doing much more than kissing is lost on her -- seeing you in such a position with the other woman sparked something in her. 

"If you'll excuse us, my colleague and I have to get going." She announces to the women, gripping your arm to pull you up from your chair. Her hold is firm, and the way her fingertips dig into your forearm sends a chill down your spine. 

"Don't wait up." She adds, dragging you behind herself as she slams the kitchen door open. She's much more bold now that the head chef has left for the night -- clearly she pays little mind to being loud or rough. 

"What the hell, Lisa?" You bite back, attempting to shake free of her grip. 

She only tightens it, saying, "Quiet, L/N."

After stepping out into the deserted hallway and ensuring that the coast is clear, Lisa opens the door to one of the utility closets and pushes you inside. You stumble a bit, feeling the unforgiving edge of one of the metal racks dig into your back as you collide with it. 

"What is your problem?" You hiss, spurred on by the stinging sensation radiating across your back. 

"You," she says, turning around to lock the door behind herself. Your brows furrow, but she's quick to explain.

"Out there kissing that customer, letting her put her hands all over you… it's pathetic." 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Pathetic? Look at yourself, for Christ's sake; two minutes later and you would've been screwing that girl in the back of an Uber." 

She tuts at you, stalking closer. "Don't go telling lies now, Y/N/N. You know I would've taken her home on my motorcycle and then got her in bed."

You groan at her cockiness; it exudes from her in waves, irking you to no end. Sometimes you wonder if she was made to annoy you. 

"Whatever, Lisa. I'm leaving," you shoulder check her on the way to the door, but she's quick to react. Before you can move to unlock it, she has your back up against the door and her hands on your hips, keeping you pinned there. Her lips are on yours in a flash, urgently working against them in a show of how eager she is for you. 

You worked her up out there more than you realized, and she couldn't take it anymore. 

You mumble against her mouth in shock, taking a second to decide what to do with your hands. Should you push her away, or pull her impossibly closer? The choice is made for you when she parts your legs with her thigh, sliding it between them and pulling your hips forward so that you brush against it. 

A groan slips out of your mouth at the new sensation, though it's muffled against her lips. She smirks, letting go of your hips to reach around behind you and untie the apron that's secured around your waist. She praises you as you rut against her leg again, sliding her tongue across your bottom lip to ask for entrance as the material falls to the floor with a quiet noise of impact. 

Her fingertips undo the buttons of your top with haste, and she helps you slide it off your arms. It remains pooled at your waist, still tucked into your pants. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she whispers against your lips before pecking them one more time, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline and towards your collarbone. 

Asking for consent is sexy as hell; especially coming from the goddess in front of you. 

You curtly nod, bringing your hands up to her back. Your nails drag along the material of her uniform, encouraging her. 

"Not so vocal now, are we?" Lisa teases, tilting your head back to grant herself more access to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

"I can walk out this door right now, you know?" You say more than ask, the syllables mixing with moans as she leaves yet another darkening love bite on you. 

"We both know that isn't true," she chuckles lowly, making you weak in the knees. You'll be damned to let go of your pride, though. 

Gathering up all of the self control you possess, you shove her away and pull your shirt back over your arms, beginning to redo the buttons. You suppress the smirk begging to make itself visible when you notice the smug expression on her face fall. Smoothing the material out, you run a hand through your hair and readjust it before unlocking and opening the door. 

The second your left foot makes it through the threshold, she's wrapping her arms around you and tugging you back in. A wave of relief washes over you at that -- you were praying she'd do exactly what she did. You hadn't imagined yourself making it down the hall, and you're not sure if you would've had the self restraint to do so.

"How the hell are you so stubborn?" She asks, letting you take over now. You drag over one of the folding chairs you spotted earlier, commanding her to sit in it with a mere glance. 

"Letting you win isn't an option, Lis. Somebody has to wipe that stupid grin off your face and put you in your place; it might as well be me." 

"How selfless," she holds her hand over her heart, face shining with mock proudness. "I'm touched." 

"Shut up already," you laugh, straddling her waist as you sit on her lap. Her hands instinctively go to your thighs, running up and down them to get you going. She can feel your warmth through the material of your pants, and the feeling is intoxicating. 

You cup her jaw and pull her closer, kissing her at a slower pace now. This one isn't as rough; it holds a whole different type of sensuality, and the occasional roll of her hips lets you know it's doing something to her, too. 

"I've wanted this for so long," she says in between kisses, gently undoing the fasteners on your jeans. 

"Really?" 

"Really." She confirms, untucking your shirt now and running her hands up your back. The cold air of the room slides under the material, ghosting over your newly exposed skin to make goosebumps appear.

"I'm surprised I held out this long," she admits, remembering all of the times she's had to stop herself from making her feelings known. 

You kiss her again before leaning back on her thighs and taking your coat and shirt off, left only in your bra. The lacey material begs to be touched, and Lisa traces the intricate patterns with her fingertips after receiving a nod from you. 

"Jesus," you moan, feeling her other hand palm your ass as she keeps you steady on her lap. 

"So beautiful," she sighs, admiring the way your cheeks have gotten flushed and how your chest rises and falls at a quicker pace now. Her hand guides the movements of your hips, and she can feel her own arousal spread to her thighs at the sight of you. 

"Who's capable of doing this to you? Making you such a needy mess?" She asks, clearly wanting an ego boost, and she squeezes your breast a little harder when you take longer than she likes to answer. 

"Y-you, Lisa." 

"That's right, baby." She kisses you again, a silent action of approval. Your movements stutter as she moves her hand to the inside of your thigh, slipping past the material of your open jeans. 

"Stop teasing already," you huff, resting your forehead against hers as you reach down to lead her hand closer to where you need her most. 

"Fine, but under one condition," she quickly caves in, sliding the thin material of your panties to the side in order to appease you. 

"Shit," you both say at the same time. In any other circumstance, you probably would've laughed at something like that, but now the atmosphere is entirely different. 

Your slick coats her fingers, and she moans at the feeling of what she's done to you.

"What's your condition?" You husk out, pressing your hand to the door behind her to give yourself better leverage to rock against her. 

"Come home with me after. I don't want to stop anytime soon." She kisses your jaw as she waits on your answer, feeling her warm breath fan out across your already heated skin. 

"Deal. Now come here."

She meets you halfway, angling her head up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as she increases the intensity of her ministrations. The sound of the chair's legs squeaking against the floor with every combined roll of your bodies makes you smile, and soon the room is filled with filthy noises of pleasure from the both of you.

The Next Morning

The sound of your phone ringing abruptly pulls you from your dream, making you blindly reach for it. Not daring to expose your eyes to the harsh morning sunlight that's pushing its way past the curtains, you stretch your arm out until your fingers brush against the smooth surface of your screen. 

You shield your eyes as you check the caller ID, only to nearly have a heart attack when you read it. 

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry for making you wait so long." You apologize, cringing at the fact that you almost missed a call from your manager. It was probably only one or two rings away from going unanswered. 

"That's alright, Y/N," he says, sounding generous. He must be having a good day. "I'm calling to ask if you can come in. I have something I'd like to discuss with you." 

Your heart drops at that, irrationally thinking he must've somehow caught you and Lisa at the restaurant last night without you knowing, but you try to remain calm. 

"O-of course, sir. I'll be there in 30 minutes." You respond, already throwing the cover off yourself and moving to stand. 

"Thank you, Y/N. See you soon." 

He ends the call, and you try to decipher his tone. It was level and calm, holding no quality to tell you if he was angry or happy. You sigh, hoping it's nothing bad. 

You stand up and stretch the remaining tension from your body, attempting to work out the kinks Lisa made in your muscles during your tiring night together. It was everything you'd ever hoped for, and your inability to walk properly is a testament to that. 

You find a note waiting for you on the countertop in her bathroom, complete with a lipstick stain kissed onto it. You smile, picking it up. 

Morning, beautiful 

I had to leave early to take care of some business, but there's some toast waiting for you in the kitchen. It's all I had time to make. 

Help yourself to anything else you want in there.

Xoxo, Lis

In an attempt to rid yourself of the annoyingly giddy feeling warming your heart, you take your clothes -- more specifically, the pajamas that Lisa gifted you -- off and step into the shower. The steam doesn't take long to fill the room, fogging up every surface in sight. 

You look down at yourself, watching as suds trek their random paths down to your legs, and you see just how many marks Lisa really left. Your inner thighs are covered, as are your hips, neck, and abdomen, all painted in beautiful shades and designs. She was an animal, and you lived for every second of it. 

Now that you think of it, though, you'll have to dedicate a good chunk of time to covering them up with makeup before you go to the restaurant. You vow to kill her if she makes you late. 

At The Restaurant 

Releasing one last, steadying breath, you knock on the door to your boss's office.

"Come in," he says, sounding pleasant. 

When you walk in and find Lisa sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, you do a double take at her. She sports the same confused expression, but you hide your surprise and shut the door behind yourself before sitting in the seat beside her. 

"Right," he starts, linking his fingers together authoritatively as he nods. "Now that you're both here, I'd like to discuss the latest promotion available." 

Is he really going to make one of you watch while he hands the position to the other? That'll be torture -- especially if you lose. Having Lisa win like that would surely only make her teasing worse. 

"You know we need strong leadership here, and I see those qualities in both of you. I'm willing to offer you both the position of sous chef, if you can agree to work together and continue keeping your standards high. If you get too busy bickering with one another, I'll be forced to choose. You're both talented, so don't make me do that."

Lisa looks over at you, and you smile, completely taken aback. To say you're surprised is an understatement. 

"Thank you, sir." You say, snapping back to reality as you extend a hand for him to shake. 

He smiles back, looking proudly between the two of you. 

"You're welcome." 

He shakes your hand before giving the same treatment to Lisa, making her look like an excited teenager with the way her cheeks pull back in a wide grin. After talking a bit longer and working out a few specifics, the two of you leave, allowing him to attend a phone conference in peace. 

"Eee!" Lisa squeals the second you're out the door, picking you up in her arms to spin you around. You laugh at her sudden outburst, happy to have another sweet moment like this and break the tension that always seems to be swirling around the two of you. 

"I'm gonna kick your ass during service tonight," she says, smirking evilly as she sets you back down. 

"You wish. I'll wipe the floor with you." 

"Oo, kinky. I think that's the only thing we didn't try last night," she teases, tapping her chin as if she's actually thinking about it, causing you to roll your eyes and blush. 

"Shut up, Manoban. I'm sore as hell today, and I still haven't forgiven you yet." 

"Aww, does my girl need some TLC? I can help you with that, you know." 

You try not to think too far into the titles she's been giving you, but that one stands out for some reason. She likely doesn't mean anything deeper by it, but it doesn't stop you from pretending. 

You're tired of the knowing look she's sending you, so you decide to do something about it.

Sneaking a glance around the two of you, you push her against the hallway wall and kiss her. You thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on the strands to give yourself more access to her mouth, just as you did last night. She enjoyed it then, and you're hoping she likes it just as much right now. Clearly, your plan works; as you pull away from her, you're rewarded with a view of her dilated pupils, blown wide as her arousal comes back without warning. 

"That's cruel," she pouts, knowing full well you have no intention of finishing what you started. 

"Think of it as retribution." You cheerily nod, ignoring the heat pooling in your stomach at the way she's eyeing you. 

"See you tonight!" You blow her a kiss before walking away, hearing her frustrated sigh bounce off the walls.

Dinner Service

"Risotto to the pass, please!" You shout, practically begging for the line cook that you're now overseeing to do his job properly. 

"I'm a minute out, chef." 

You shake your head, but choose to ignore his incompetence for the time being. You're keeping things running smoothly, but they can easily be stalled by people like him. 

You focus on plating the entrées of another table while you wait for him to finish, and Lisa slides over the side dish that you need to add. "Thank you," you say, totally in the zone. 

"Welcome," she responds, equally as focused as you. It's definitely a quality that you admire about her; she's playful and fun, but she's serious in the kitchen. You'd clash and this whole arrangement would fail if she were any other way.

"Risotto approaching, chef." 

"Finally," you clap, ready to approve of it and send it out. Thankfully it's cooked well, and the line chef is saved from your wrath -- at least for now. 

"Service!" 

Two waiters step forward following your call, and they load the large trays into their arms before heading to the dining room. 

You get back to work on the next set of orders, reading the new tickets off to your cooks and listening for their confirmation of hearing you. 

"Try this, Y/N. I think it's missing something." Lisa says, grabbing a plastic spoon to allow you to taste test the soup waiting to be sent out. She brings the utensil up to your lips and throws it away once you gather up the liquid. 

"Basil. Tell Amanda it needs basil." 

Lisa nods, listening to you for once without question. She barks the orders out to the young chef, and the girl fires off a couple apologies as she brings the missing ingredient over. 

"Thank you, Amanda. Get back to work, I know you can do it," you encourage her, not wanting to crush her spirits too badly in the first week of her job. She's a newbie, and you remember being in her shoes once. 

Pierre, your host and main waiter, approaches the side of the pass that borders the dining room. You raise an eyebrow at his sudden presence, wordlessly asking what he needs as you stir some pasta in the pot in front of you, twisting it around your tongs to plate it. 

"We have a guest requesting to see Lisa." 

Confusion flashes across your face for a moment, but then it sinks in. Your eyes land on the woman from last night, finding her standing near the front door with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. She waves to Lisa in greeting, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something out of line. 

You can feel Lisa's gaze trail over to you, but you don't look up. 

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute." She orders Pierre, quickly thanking him as he heads off to do as she asked. 

She wants to say something to you, but she doesn't know exactly what. Her feelings are still jumbled from last night, and she's not too entirely certain on where you stand with one another. 

--

You subconsciously hold your breath as she approaches the girl, getting pulled in for a tight hug as if she's known her for years. Was that the "business" she had to take care of this morning? Who knows. 

They continue their conversation for a few minutes, and you distract yourself by focusing on pumping more food out. 

"Good job, team. Keep it up," you praise them, happy to see everyone working well together. They thank you for the encouragement, and promise to keep their momentum going. 

A few minutes later, as things begin to get a little hectic, you sneak a glance up at Lisa. She locks eyes with you, as if on cue. 

You can see her trying to politely leave, but the woman puts a hand on her forearm, stepping forward to flirtily whisper something in her ear. She eventually manages to get her to back away, and she points at the door. The customer glares at you over Lisa's shoulder, leaving you confused but delighted. Seeing her unhappy is a treat in and of itself. 

As Lisa turns around and starts to walk back to the kitchen, you quickly jump back into action, narrowly avoiding getting caught staring. Lisa has a sneaking suspicion that that's exactly what you were doing, but she doesn't speak on it as she rounds the corner of the pass. 

"Well?" You nonchalantly ask, glancing at her in your peripheral. Your hands arrange a new set of plates on the tray between you, and her fingers brush against yours as she adds a side salad to it. 

"She wanted to finish what she started last night." She informs, pausing before she finishes telling you what happened in order to build suspense and torture you some more. 

"I said no, of course," she assures you, smiling when she notices you sigh in relief. "I've got my eye on someone else now." 

"Yeah?" You ask, turning to look at her with a soft smile. Her change in demeanor makes your heart flutter. 

"Yeah. Amanda's looking pretty good, isn't she?"

"Hey!" You shout, a little too loud for your own good, making Lisa laugh. You apologize to the guests and staff before punching Lisa in the arm, ready to get revenge later. 

"Kidding, babe. You think I'd let you go after last night?" She cocks her head to the side, sounding genuinely confused that you could think such a thing. "Not a chance," she smiles, leaning to the side to kiss your cheek and bump your hip with her own. 

Who would've thought you could end up here with her?

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello my beloved! ( Can I call you that? And people it's platonic!) I have an idea and this is for pogtopia wilbur and ghostbur! Can you do a reader who loves painting and one morning they find a picture of them with a note about the reader confessing to then but they didn't do it in person because they were really nervous? Thank you!

And please take as much time as you want also could it be a long story? Thank you!

- Your beloved Moosh 🥺

Moosh, darling! Hello! Yes, you have my full permission to call me that, thank you for asking! This is the third time I've written this story because Tumblr just really enjoys screwing me over...

Also. You never clarified whether you wanted fluff or angst, but it's Pogtopia Wilby so I kinda just went with angst? If you want a happy end to this, I'll rewrite this no problem! But it won't be as long because... Well, you'll see. Also also, I didn't exactly know where to throw the Ghosty Bur in, so... Yeaaaah? He's at the end tho!

THE FIRST PART IS LIKE NEW NEW POGTOPIA WILBUR

TW: (Sorry it didn't save the first time) C!Schlatt, bruising, threatened hanging, self doubt

Perfect Picture of Imperfection (Pogtopia!C!Wilbur x GN!Painter!Reader)

Maybe you painted Schlatt's horns the wrong colour? Or his jawline was off? He was furious when you finally showed him your art piece... It was the best you could do with the few hours you were given! Paint physically couldn’t dry as fast as Schlatt wanted it to you… He didn’t seem to care when he threw the wooden frame of the torn canvas at you, giving you a dark bruise right above your eye, or when he started yelling at you and threatening to burn your art studio down to the ground.

Or even when he grabbed you and suggested to Quackity to hang you at the gallows for insulting the emperor of Manberg.

The man you had once been friends with grinned widely and nodded happily, “Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” He said, without a single care that you were a living human being, only giving a cheer as he picked you up so your feet were dangling on the ground, leaving you silent in terror. Tubbo only averted his gaze.

“Aww… You’re like a little fawn, caught in the torchlight of a traveller.” The ram hybrid smiled in a sickly sweet manner, causing the colour to drain from your face, “Come now, darling, I’m not a monster… You’re the only one of Wilbur’s sweet little subjects that he hasn’t gotten back, and here I thought you were his favourite… Or maybe he left you here to act as a sacrifice so they could all be off doing their own thing... Guess he prefers Niki over you…” He whispered as he dropped you, chuckling softly as you scurried out of the building as you quite literally ran for your life.

You called Wilbur when you were safely hidden in your house, gasps and sobs leaving your mouth quicker than tears could pool out of your eyes…

“(Y/n)... You can’t be calling me when-”

“Wil…?” You whispered into the communicator, your voice shaking enough to shut him up immediately, “He… He’s going to…” Hiccuping meekly, you curled in tighter on yourself as you heard Schlatt’s loud and pompous voice come over the speaker system he had hung up all around the once beautiful country, “I think I’m going to die here…”

The dead silence that followed through the line was sickening…

“Is it true…?” You couldn’t help but find yourself wondering aloud, “Is that why I’m the only one left here? Am I a sacrifice so you can live happily elsewhere? ...Is that why you haven’t come to get me?”

“(Y/n), I want you to never utter those words again.” His voice was dark and steely as there was a bit of crashing around that came from the other side as well as faint mumbles which were clearly from Tommy judging by all the swearing, “You are not a sacrifice. Now... Get your Enderchest and Inventory packed up, I’m coming to get you tonight, and then I’ll explain in person…”

The line cut off and you slowly lowered the communicator down from beside your ear. Your heart was sinking one minute, but soaring the next… A terrible feeling really. You were saved! But… He could get caught trying to come to get you… You couldn’t let that happen for sure. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your eyes free of tears before standing up and beginning to shove any necessary equipment into your Enderchest, including your finished painting of Wilbur that you were going to give to him when he won the election… And finally, confess your feelings…

When midnight hit and the lights of the city finally died down, you climbed up onto your roof and looked around for the president, fear and paranoia flooding through your veins as your mind went wild. What if he got caught? What if he was trying to give you false hope? What if. What if. What if. These sort of questions buzzed around in your mind for an hour as you waited for your saviour to arrive…

Finally, when enough became enough and you decided he wasn’t coming, you stopped pacing and slowly sat down on the roof as the tears began to start again. You could practically hear Schlatt chiding you in the back of your mind, telling you that you were a fool for holding out hope.

“(Y/n)!” A low hiss came from beside you and a hand touched your shoulder. You certainly would’ve screamed bloody murder if another hand hadn’t quickly wrapped around your mouth, “Sh, sh, sh, it’s me… It’s Wilbur.” The voice soothed softly as the hand left your mouth, quickly allowing you to turn your head.

It didn’t feel real… Seeing him after so long… And in an outfit other than his uniform. “Wil...bur?” You repeated, staring at him for a while before giving him a soft smile filled with relief, “You really came…”

“Of course I did!” He almost seemed offended for a moment before his eyes softened as he realized what Schlatt must’ve drilled into your head. Wilbur easily caught you as you flung your self at him, quickly wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your (h/l) (h/c) hair, “I missed my artiste…” He whispered, donning a temporary french accent for the word ‘artist’.

Holding back a sob, you quickly grabbed his extended hand and followed him as he jumped off your roof, safely landing in a bed of hay that you used to feed your old farm animals that Schlatt confiscated before following him out of this damned country.

After that, things seemed to change between you and Wilbur. He always seemed to be at your side, choosing to personally train you rather than letting Techno train you with everyone else, or even running over ideas on how to expand Pogtopia with you rather than with Tommy. His touches always lingered longer or he somehow wound up leaning closer to you than originally necessary, but you never caught yourself complaining. He would watch you paint beautiful designs along the armour he had gifted you, knowing full well it would chip off and was heavily unnecessary, but he only smiled and let you continue doing it as long as it didn’t interfere with enchantments.

Each day with Wilbur became better and better, but your heart physically couldn’t take it any longer, you had to tell him that you felt this way for him… The way that you had to fight back the reddening of your cheeks when his chest pressed against your back as he adjusted your stance in training, or the way you had to struggle to regulate your breathing every time he complimented you on how far you had come…

He was going to be the death of you…

Your already calloused hands were bruised and blistered, but somehow, you were still able to hold a quill, pinched in between the fingers of your dominant hand. Wilbur had come to your Pogtopia home this morning, but upon realizing that he had knocked you to the ground a little too hard yesterday as you were incredibly stiff and sore, he let you have the day off of training.

This was at least a little chance… You had torn a page from your notebook and sat down at your handmade desk with a bitter sigh. Trust me, you wanted to tell him in person, but you were just too scared… Plus, maybe you could play it off as someone pulling a prank on him if it went south.

Biting your lip, your fingers treated the quill as a brush, delicately running the ink dipped tip over the top of the paper, letting your heart control what words you wanted the ink to form.

Wilbur,

You don't realize how much you mean to me. Although we've been friends for only a year, I feel as though I've known you my entire life. My connection to you is already so deep, and my love for you is already so strong that I can't remember what my life was like before we met. Even more, I can't imagine my life without you now. I can't imagine the future without you, either.

You have saved my life several times already. You have even saved me from myself several times, too! I am so thankful for your guidance and care. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I know that I can just give you a call. I know I can depend on you and, with your help, everything will turn out well.

I want you to know how I really feel. It's time for you to know that I'm ready to admit how much I care for you, how much you mean to me. I know, this isn’t the best timing in our lives, but I trust it will get better through your leadership. I love you, Wilbur.

Please, don't ever forget how much I love you.

Love, (Y/n) (L/n)

Sighing, you put the quill into the inkpot and put your head in your bandaged hands. ‘This is going to work. It will work. Go on. Have faith in yourself, as Wil said…’ You took a few deep breaths and stood up, picking up the letter once it was dry and reading it over as many times as you physically could before your mind couldn’t handle it any longer.

Walking to the door, you cracked it open to search for any sign of your president, sighing again as you realized he was likely out helping gather resources. “Is… This enough?” You mumbled sadly as you stared down at the simple letter before looking at your Enderchest in thought. Surely you could give him a few emeralds or some gold… Yeah! That’s what you’d do! Smiling in victory, you quickly wandered over to the chest and opened it, digging through it for a few moments.

It was sort of empty…

You groaned as you remembered that you haven’t really been one of the miners or forgers for Pogtopia. Instead, you were one of the warriors, focused on protecting others instead of gathering supplies.

Going to shut the chest, you suddenly paused as you saw something colourful resting at the bottom. Pushing aside your old L’Manberg uniform, you gasped as you found your old painting of Wilbur from a few months ago. It was old, yes, and a little dusty but you were still proud of it even now! Perfect.

Pulling out the painting, you began to lightly brush the dust off of the picture, smiling at the splashes of paint and colour forming a picture. It was your magnum opus.

It was a painting of Wilbur holding up a massive L’Manberg flag against the sunlight with a wide smile and hope in his eyes… This was the day that L’Manberg won independence from DreamSMP…

Standing up again, you quickly hurried out the door and walked to Wilbur’s room, silently creaking open the door and looking around, even though you were well aware that he was gone for the day. You walked over to his desk and gently setting the painting down on top of the countless sheets of work, making sure not to mix up any of the papers, then putting your letter on top where he could see it before hurrying out before you could change your mind.

Thankfully you got out when you did because, by the time you pulled an already baked potato out of the furnace, Wilbur came down the stone stairs, looking extremely exhausted, “(Y/n), my artiste…” He murmured with a smile, “I’m glad to see you’re still up and going… I was worried we would have to make you a healing pot.”

“It’s not too bad… It’s mostly just my hands that hurt.” You chuckled and held up your shaking bandaged hands, “You want me to cook you up some potatoes and carrots? Or I could maybe try and get some steak cooked up before you go to work?”

Wilbur tried to smile a bit, deciding not to question why your hands were shaking so badly, taking everything out of his inventory and placing them in their designated chests. “No, no… It’s alright. I’m going to go get ready for Tubbo’s report… I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

You gave him a small wave before Wilbur disappeared into his office. Taking a sharp intake of breath, you quickly followed after him and peeked through the tiny crack in the door where he didn’t close it all the way. He stood in his room silently for a moment before throwing his hat off at a wall, screaming into hands, muffling it heavily to the point where you wouldn’t have heard it if you were still near the furnaces. Wilbur threw off his jacket before plopping himself into his chair with his head in his hands for a few moments, then lifting it to stare at the painting that you had placed.

He was still for a long time, then he slowly picked up the note, his eyes softened slightly before his face broke out into a wide and genuinely happy smile before his mouth twitched and the smile began to fall, tears bubbling into his chocolate coloured eyes. Wilbur held the note up to his chest and slouched back against his chair, sobbing into his hand, whispering ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly.

Frowning, you realized that he physically couldn’t return your love because of the stress of caring for Pogtopia and trying to win back L’Manberg. With a sad smile, you stood up and walked to your room, putting your head down as you saw water droplets hit the stone below you, “It wasn’t a no…” You tried to tell yourself, ignoring the tears running from your eyes as you shut the door, sliding down to your knees.

The next few weeks after that were hell, the complete opposite of the Utopia that you were blinded by for the past month. Wilbur asked Techno to pick up your training, and he never even spoke to you about it again… It was the Piglin hybrid that awkwardly told you. During dinner, Wilbur would practically eat as little as possible as he ignored you, trying to make any situation where he would be in the same room as you as short as possible.

“Wil-...” You reached out to the president but watched as he only gave you the saddest gaze before walking past you as if he never saw you. But he would have no problems talking to Niki, or anyone else! It wasn’t fair!

Time ticked by in a haze of fog and you quickly watched the man you had once fallen in love with becoming a complete shadow of his former self… It was sickening… He… Lost it… His mind was becoming twisted… And all you could do was watch in horror…

You knew something was wrong when he crept away from the festival and the celebration… But you just decided that he was going to take a break from the excitement. He was quite old after all…

Then the ground shook with booming roars as TNT blew craters into the earth, sending debris scattering and people screaming, scattering for their lives. Gasps of terror escaped your lips as you realized the cause of it all… You hopped over gunpowder scented broken stone and batted the smoke away as you saw the final picture to paint the last stroke of horror in your heart.

There was a blond man with massive avian wings holding a diamond sword glimmering with enchantments as the brunet clung to his clothing, slowly sinking to his knees. With a sob of despair, you watched the man you once loved so dearly, get stabbed through the chest by his own father.

“WILBUR!” You shrieked, your ears ringing from the blast as you sunk to your knees, sobs racking your frame violently. Wilbur’s head lazily rolled to look in your direction…

And in his last dying breath… He smiled…

-

“That painting…” A light airy whisper echoed through the darkened stone halls of your home, “It’s familiar… Yet so foreign...”

You gave a hum as you hung your netherite armour on your stand before turning to stare at the spectral figure floating in your doorway, “Which painting, Ghostbur? There’s many… You have to elaborate.”

“Right! Because you’re an artiste!” The transparent male chirped happily, not seeming to notice your flinch, “I mean the one hanging above the fireplace, of Alivebur.”

“Right…” You nodded, following behind the eager sweater-wearing ghost down the eerie hallways and into the office, "I'm going to take it down... I think it's doing more harm than good..."

Ghostbur didn't seem to understand your reasoning, but he didn't say much, knowing that Alivebur hurt many people... But he didn't think he hurt you, "It's pretty though... But your art style has changed, in a good way though!" He smiled softly as you opened the large dark oak double doors.

You walked past your grand dark oak desk to stare at your former magnum opus, dangling above the unlit fireplace. "Hey, Bur, if you have a flint and steel, could you light the fire please?" You glanced over and watched him nod as he dug through his pockets. In the meantime, you climbed up onto the mantle and began to struggle to pull the canvas off the wall. With a bit of hassle, you managed to pull it down and toss it onto the ground before climbing down, just in time for your ghost friend to light the fire.

"Don't damage it, (N/n)! It's still really good!" Ghostbur scolded you with a pout once you hopped down and picked the canvas up, "And you used to be proud of it!"

"I'm not, don't fret too m-" You paused mid-sentence as you saw a letter tucked into the bottom corner of the back of the painting. Frowning in confusion, you slowly picked it up and turned it over into your hand, only to discover that it was addressed to you in fancy cursive, sealed with a light red and white wax seal, "What's this?"

He looked over at you and tilted his head, seeming almost as genuinely confused as you were. Ghostbur shrugged as you propped the painting up against the wall before sitting at your desk, using your letter opener for its purpose, "Love letter, perhaps?"

"I doubt it..." You mumbled softly as you carefully unfolded the paper, recognizing that it was probably a few years old, "Let's see... Who wrote this..." You hummed before beginning to read.

My darling artiste... I'm sure by the time you read this, I'm either dead or... Well, most likely dead, if all goes to plan...

I am writing this letter to you to let you know that life without you is not the same. Life without you is very sad and lonely. I have realised that it was you who keep me alive and cheerful.

I thought I would get used to your absence from my life, but every day has been harder when I think of all the good times we spent together.

There are so many things which I want to confess. It's killing me because I don't want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you.

And I'm not able to tell you I'm in love with you.

What an idiot I am.

And for the past few days, I've been trying to figure out, why there aren't some words to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn't a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe my love for you.

But I need that word. I need it because I want you to hear me say “I love You". I want to make the sweetest gestures in front of you which make you feel even more loved.

Trust me... I know... I act like an absolute ass towards you. I'm so scared of your life being in more danger than it was... I really did love you, and still do, but I didn't want it to hurt you more when I blow up L'Manberg...

Darling, I could have simply called you on your communicator and took you out on a surprise date but I couldn't have expressed my feelings. You have become an integral part of me. I want to give you all my love throughout my life.

The painting you made me is beautiful and I will cherish it for as long as I'm alive... It's a perfect picture of imperfection...

I Love You, (Y/n), even if by now you'll never love me back.

- Wilbur Soot

"That... That idiot..." You whispered, holding your head in your hands in an attempt to hide the tears from Ghostbur, "He planned blowing up L'Manberg from the beginning... That's why he refused to acknowledge me after I... He wanted me to hate him..."

Ghostbur held a bit of blue in his hands tightly, avoiding your gaze as you murmured to yourself, "Yeah... Most of my happiest memories involve you... That's why I couldn't understand when you said Aliverbur hated you..." He glanced away again as he saw you look at him.

"(Y/n)... Are you ever going to move out of Pogtopia?"

"Probably not for a long time, Ghostbur."