#so many stories bundle

[oifaaa]

What is your preferred explanation for Bruce’s no kill rule?

Personally a combo of Bruce was severely traumatised as a child watching his two parents be murdered in front of him to the point he literally can not watch someone die in front of him without it triggering him and he knows himself well enough to know that if he can justify killing one person then he can justify killing another and he's sure he will not have the self control to stop once he gets started

[e-louise-bates]

So I'd kind of forgotten that there's a new adaptation of The Seven Dials Mystery coming out at some point, because while I adore Hugh Laurie's Why Didn't They Ask Evans as having managed to capture the exact right tone for Christie, the majority of adaptations of her books to come out in the last several years have fallen flat for me (not that they're bad, per se, they just don't have the right feel to me), and I haven't been able to tell if this one is going to capture the right playful-but-not-silly tone of Seven Dials or if it is going to try to be grim or if it is going to veer off into parody, so I basically shrugged my shoulders and forgot about it.

HOWEVER, I just saw that Martin Freeman has been cast as Superintendent Battle, and I am INVESTED in it now. He is the PERFECT casting choice for Battle (how many other actors can pull off impassiveness-that-still-conveys-personality? NOT MANY), and now I am desperately hoping the rest of this lives up to his casting and this falls into the Why Didn't They Ask Evans camp rather than any of the others.

[chiropteracupola]

this round's my treat!

[angstandhappiness]

LMAO but also the tags DUDE

Reverse Robin au but the ages aren't changed. Just adoption order.

[tbaluver]

When You Have A Baby- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

genre: fluff fluff

a/n: writing these are so much fun <3 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! if you have any more ideas for me to write my requests are always open! enjoy!

��｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He would be so smitten with his newborn. He won't stop internally and externally praising your strength for carrying and birthing his child. He would compare the size of your new baby's hand and his hand. "Their hands are so tiny" He would whisper. As he holds his new born so closely, he vows to make sure no harm came to the two of you.

Your baby room would have a couple plushies that either you won from the claw machines. He can put the baby to sleep so quick whether it was rocking the baby or reading them a bedtime story.

He's very protective but also very cautious. He'll make sure the baby would be all bundled up and comfortable before you two leave the house. Also very soft and sweet with the baby. Spoils the baby with so much love with forehead kisses and snuggles!

This man loves to cuddle the baby. When you come home and you don't see him anywhere, then he's probably in the nursery. He would sit on the rocking chair with the baby in his arms. He just wants to spend as much time as possible with the baby. Nothing in the world can compare to the happiness that brings him where his child is sleeping peacefully in his arms. One of your favorite moments is when you two would be peacefully asleep, the baby safely and comfortably in between you two.

Zayne:

He might not show it physically, but he's definitely in pain seeing you in labor. He'll be by your bedside, gently holding your hand and letting you squeeze his hand as much as you need too. It's all worth it in the end when he sees his baby with his own eyes. Inside he's melting but he keeps his cool.

Like I said in my pregnancy post this man is always ready. Ready whenever you were pregnant and ready when the baby is born.

When the baby cries when your both asleep, he'll assure you that he can do it and let you go back to sleep. He'll handle anything whether it's feeding the baby, cradling, changing the diaper, or helping put the baby back to sleep, as long as you get some rest. He would even be the first to wake up just to check up on the baby just so you can have a few more minutes of rest before you have to get up.

One of your favorite memories would be seeing him handle the baby so well in his arms in the nursery. You would snake your arms around him and rest your chin on his shoulder as he continues cradling the baby.

He handles his new responsibilities as a father so well. He can barely pull himself from the baby. It's like he had everything under control and nothing can affect him as long as you were okay. He made sure to validate any frustrations and anything you were anxious about. He was always there to reassure you.

Rafayel:

His eyes would be shimmering from glee as he cradled the baby. "They're so tiny!" He would whisper shout, carefully not trying to wake the baby. The first time he ever held the baby, he didn't think it would be possible for his body to let go of the small bundle of joy in his arms.

You are so strong for having to take care of two babies. The one you birthed and your husband, Rafayel. He playfully pretends to be your baby so you can also take care of him like you do with your new born.

You guys would have such a beautiful baby room. The room would have such warm lighting. He would have the walls painted with what he had envisioned and a mix of furniture that you both planned out. You guys would have a crib mobile that is obviously sea themed.

You would also walk in on him many times cradling the baby and encouraging his baby to say his first words would be anything of dad or the baby has to show him first when they learn how to walk.

He would def take so much memories of you and your baby. He'll put some baby safe paint on your baby's hands and stamp their hand print on a small canvas so when they grow up, you'll all remember the time they were so tiny. Finding you again was a miracle in itself and having this baby with you, he would need or create a different word to describe it all.

Sylus:

He would be right at your side during labor, wiping your sweat off your forehead and giving you reassurance. "You're doing so well sweetie. Our baby will be out soon."

He does everything that he can without protests. He would give warm baths and sweet kisses to your baby's head every moment he can.

He makes it all look easy and even handles any chores around the house himself or makes Luke and Kieran do it so you have time to recuperate. He would spend quality time with you any time he can to make you feel just as loved if not more with your growing family.

It would physically pain him to leave you and his newborn at home when he had to leave for business. Although neither of you would have gotten that much sleep in weeks, a part of him wished that it would never end. Even if it would be just for a few hours, he did not want to miss anything that happens. What if the baby laughs and he wasn't there to take a video of it? What if an emergency happened and you needed him? He would make you record everything you and your baby do because he doesn't want to miss any milestone in his baby's life.

Just like you, he would spoil the baby rotten. When he would come back from his business trips or meetings he would bring back gifts for you or anything that reminded him of you and your baby.

You would ban him from singing any lullabies to your baby but sometimes when you're already asleep he would secretly sing your baby a song. He would feel fully content in his life.

[allisonmckenzieart]

Well, after many months- I'm happy to share my (rather ambitious) cover for our Final Fantasy Ladies zine: Lucia Sidera. I still can't believe the team trusted me with such an important cover. I decided to be insane and try and draw every main gal from each title and spin off (I ran out of time, so I didn't get everyone sadly). The mod team was already SO patient with me. I didn't have to do all this- but I legitimately had this vision since 2009 (and there were a LOT less gals back then). You can see from teh initial sketch layout, how many character were originally planned- but then...I went off the rails. (note, the first image is the poster version, and second is book variant)

Final Fantasy is kinda my life, let's be real- as corny as it sounds. It has been with me most of my time here on Earth. It set me upon the path I'm on now. I wouldn't be Allison without these characters, the music, the art, the stories. I won't mush too much, but this, to me, was a very special opportunity to show just how much I love this series. Getting to share that with other people in this community, whose life has been deeply touched by Final Fantasy meant a lot to me- and I hope people find there faves in this cover!

I have the remaining folded posters from the zine bundles coming in the mail, but will also be offering this as a 11x17 print soon! So much detail means it won't be coming in smaller sizes, apologies!

Anyway, it would be all too easy for me to talk about this cover and my thoughts overall but I suppose it's not overly necessary- it can speak for itself I guess! I hope you like it :)

[bobacupcake]

indie game releases may 9 2024

today is just an absolutely amazing day for indie game launches. like there is something here for just about everyone. i want to catalogue all the ones ive seen

animal well

described by some as a "metroidvania thats similar to outer wilds in that you want to go into it knowing as little as possible" . which i assume if youre like me is all you need to know to be sold on this, so thats all i have to say

steam | switch | ps5

little kitty big city

you play as a little kitty in a big city. incredibly cute. great for people who love cats and play games to just take it easy and have a nice time. you get to put the kitty in so many silly hats

steam | switch | xbox (also on gamepass)

rabbit & steel

"what if you could do mmo raid progression but without having to invest hours into an mmo" here you go this is the game for you. get together with friends and learn mechanics and fights and get 5 different debuffs and try to parse what they mean before they make you explode in 5 seconds. i hope this sounds fun to you because to me this is what i live for

steam

crow county

an incredibly stylish ps1-style survival horror game. solve mysteries!! shoot monsters!! pick up items!! you probably know if this is the game for you already!! from what ive seen its a great love letter to the genre

steam | ps5 | xbox

1000xresist

i have heard /immense/ praise over this game from a narrative angle. scifi thriller. also the trailer starts with someone getting stabbed. cool. if you play games for their stories and a hyper-cinematic scifi adventure is up your alley check this one out

steam

cryptmaster

a dungeon crawler where you do everything by typing words . i dont know how to properly describe this but it looks incredibly cool the trailer through the link does a much better job of showcasing it than i do. AND , if this game and 100xresist both look up your alley, you can actually get a bundle with both of them for 40% off

steam

anyways thanks for getting through my big wall of gifs i really wanted to showcase these games because like these are some Real amazing games all launching on the same day. and also the same week as hades2 . and im sure theres even more that i didnt even see!!! check the replies because im sure people are gonna add even more

[washeduphazbin]

Lady Hell

(Lucifer x Fem!Reader x Lilith) NSFW THEMES AHEAD

Hi! Omg, I just saw/read the lucixreaderxlili story and wondered if you could write a story about Charlie and some others catching them "in the act" and just Charlie dying. Of course, Lucifer would accidentally permanently scar his daughter (and Alastor the ace) by turning around to go comfort his child, forgetting the situation for a "brief" (get it lol 😆) moment, and then trying to hide the three of them. Could you do the reactions of the others, either by hearing about it or walking in on it?

@legendarylearner18 I hope you enjoy it. I hope this is what you were looking for. I wanted to try to keep it somewhat canon, lol. So unfortunately we only get a little bit of Lilith.

For being cast to an eternity in hell, as a Sinner, you couldn't exactly complain about your current situation. You were found by Lilith, The Queen of Succubi and the subsequent Queen of Hell. While the Sinners around you looked like different creatures, you looked more human than a demon. Most likely due to the way you died, it wasn’t traumatic or horrific, so you kept most of your human features. The only difference was a pair of horns growing out of your head, and a devil-like tail.

Lilith was enthralled by your pure innocence; she picked you up from the street (literally) and brought you home. She allowed you into her palace and introduced you to her husband, her hands trailing and resting tenderly on your back. "What's your name, darling?" She hummed softly, brushing your hair from your face; you flushed, staring at the man before you, feeling the pressure of the much taller woman pressed against you. Your throat felt dry as you introduced yourself with a little bow; the man hummed,

"Is this a new Sinner, Lili?"

"Indeed. Lucifer, and I'd like to keep her." Your face burned hot as you whipped your head to the woman,

"Excuse me-" You sputtered,

"Oh, sorry. Are you queer?" She hummed, her nails brushing against your cheek, and you could only sputter out a yes of confirmation. She cooed sweetly, pressing your face directly into her tits; you squeaked, "Luci isn't she just the cutest Sinner you've just ever seen!"

"I think you're suffocating her," Lucifer mused, removing his hat and resting it against one of the many hat hooks. "Let me get a good look at her," Lilith released you, gently nudging you towards who you could only assume to be the King of Hell. You made a soft sound as he grabbed your waist; the way he analyzed you made you squirm nervously. "How would you like to stay with us? You have a choice of course.”

"Like here?"

Lilith laughed, grabbing your face and tilting your head to look her in the eyes; Lucifer took your hands and brushed his thumbs across your knuckles. "Yes, like here," she mused. You can say no. We aren't forcing you into a relationship if it makes you uncomfortable."

"You're new to Hell. We can keep you safe, but as soon as you want to leave, we won't stop you." Lucifer reassured, "But we'd like the chance to romance you if you'd let us."

You let out a little laugh, "Romance me?" Lilith giggled behind you as you watched the King Of Hell turn red and fluster. Sputtering out what exactly he meant trying to salvage the situation.

"Oh, you're going to be fun."

"And dangerous," Lucifer added, trying to recover from his embarrassment.

Your life since then has been pretty good. You fell hard and fast for Lilith and Lucifer and quickly became a part of their couple. They never made you feel less than for joining their marriage; you were equally as important as them in the relationship, and most importantly you were happy. When Lilith and Lucifer had Charlie, you were there beside them; helping Lilith through every moment especially when Lucifer was busy. Charolette, the little bundle of joy, only improved all three of your lives. You swore to yourself you would never force Charlie to see you as another parent if she didn't want to, but much to your surprise she did. You were a constant in her life, acting like a third parent to the girl most or the time, one who was constantly there and she loved every bit of you.

--

Charlie hummed, tapping her fingers together, "So that's why asking my other mom to convince my dad is probably our best shot at getting a meeting with Heaven!" Vaggie and Angel Dust glanced at one another,

"Hold on, you're telling me that the king of hell is getting double the pussy, and we're out here struggling ta get any?"

"You don't even like pussy Angel," Husk grunted,

"Not true. I like a certain pussy." He batted his eyelashes at Husk, who grunted, rolling his eyes while dramatically taking a swig from his whiskey bottle.

“I’m a feline or cat. Call me a pussy again, and I’ll shove this bottle up your ass.”

“Kinky I like it daddy.”

Husk promptly flipped him off.

"Not the point!" Charlie huffed cheeks, flushing. She didn’t even like thinking about her parents like that. "I've been scared enough with them to last me a lifetime!"

"Ohhoho?" Angel Dust leaned forward on his knees, "Sounds like you have stories."

"What? Stories? No way, not me." Charlie shook her head rather dramatically, yelping as Niffty ran up her leg, grabbing the collar of her shirt,

"You have stories! Dirty, nasty stories! I can smell them on you! TELL US!"

"You all realize you're asking her to talk about her parents having sex right." Vaggie grunted, "That's fucking weird."

"Don't care what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever walked in on!" Angel shouted, slamming his hands on the table, "I need to know!” Charlie chewed on her bottom lip, "You always say sharing is caring, Princess. Now that it's your turn. Are you gonna share your trauma? I've shared mine." He definitely hadn't but Charlie wondered if this was his first step into Angel actually caring about the group redemption activities.

"I...suppose you're right." She cringed outwardly as Angel grinned delightedly and turned to look at Husk. He rolled his eyes at Angel,

"I'll make you drinks; I have a feeling we'll be here for a while."

"After this story we're talking to your mom are you sure you wanna tell them then go see her directly? You don't have too." Vaggie placed her hands on Charlie's shoulders giving them a squeeze,

"It's okay Vaggie, I can do this! For the Hotel!"

—

Lilith hummed quietly, running a brush tenderly through your hair and detangling the locks. You stared at her gentle movements in the mirror, feeling her slender fingers pet your scalp. "You're staring, my beautiful lamb," You felt your cheeks burn as you looked down into your lap. You heard her soft laugh, pressing herself against your back, feeling her chest push against you.

Jesus, you were better than no man.

"Don't get all shy on me." Her fingers lifted your chin so you could turn to look at her. "There's my pretty girl." She purred, and you could melt. She leaned forward to press a tender kiss to your lips. Her other hand cupped the back of your neck possessively. "Do you wanna know something?" She murmured against your lips; she pulled away to look into your eyes as you nodded. "You're my personal Eden." She trailed the back of her hand down your cheek before pressing her thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it down. "I want to devour you; you'll let me, won't you?"

You let out a loud whine, nodding furiously at her, "Anything for you Lili." She raised a perfectly styled brow, "Mistress."

"That's my girl." She pet the top of your head, "I'm sad to mess up your hair after I just worked so hard on it. But, I think it's worth it, don't you?" Lilith's lashes fluttered, and you nodded like the lovesick puppy you were for her. The dynamic you had with the Morningstar's would be peculiar to anyone outside the bedroom; Lilith enjoyed taking the dominant role, Lucifer was a switch, and while you preferred to be more submissive, sometimes it was fun to be more dominant when messing with the devil himself. You shivered in delight at the thought of taking both of them as Lilith's mouth placed kisses against your neck. "Oh, little lamb, did you think you could hide your desire from the queen of succubi herself? You want me to gather Luci for us?"

"Would you be mad if I say yes?" You spoke softly, and she smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Not at all, my sweet thing. Why don't you get yourself ready for our return," She vanished, seeping elegantly into her shadow. You grinned, jumping on the abnormally sizeable plush bed you shared with the couple. Usually, Lucifer enjoyed undressing you, but what Lilith said goes, so you unbuttoned your shirt and slid off your skirt, leaving you just in your underthings. "Your gift is in here, Lucifer," you heard Lilith on the otherside of the door. The man let out a small laugh.

"Whenever you get me a gift, it always puts me on edge." He said lightheartedly, opening the bedroom door. His gaze landed on you immediately, and his cheeks burned scarlet.

"Do you like your gift?" She purred, leaning down to peck his cheek in a sultry manner.

"I mean, who wouldn't? Hi, Ducking!" He stammered, waving goofily. You giggled, waving back cheekily,

"Hi Luci, Mistress." You bowed your head, sprawling out on the bed seductively, your eyes trained on the growing tent in the king of hell's pants. "What role would you like me to take?" Your eyes trailed over to Lilith, who was slowly sliding down her dress.

She hummed thoughtfully, "What do you feel? Also, do you remember the safe word?" You nodded,

"Dominate with you and dominate with Lucifer. Is that alright?"

"M-more than," Lucifer stammered as Lilith reached around to place her hands on his shoulders, nipping at his neck. He let out a shaky groan at the sensation and you hopped off the bed kneeling before the King and Queen of Hell.

“Good girl.~” Lilith praised continuing to nip and suck on Lucifer’s neck her fingers moving to unbutton his top. Meanwhile he whimpered looking down at you as you undid his belt with ease fluttering your lashes innocently. You looked as beautiful as the day you arrived in Hell and he still couldn’t fathom what you’d done to end up in a place like this.

“Your Majesty may I?” You motioned to his hard cock straining against the confines of his briefs. He ran his fingers through your hair and you leaned into the touch,

“You may.” He watched you lick your lips hungrily as you pulled down his underwear, cock springing free bouncing against his stomach. He let out a shaky breath, as your hands groped his aching dick, “Ducking come on.” He whined as you slowly pumped him with a sadistic grin adorning your lips. He felt Lilith laugh against his neck and he huffed, she clicked her tongue grabbing his chin and tilting it up so she could press a kiss to his lips, it was heated as their tongues clashed in a fiery dance. He groaned into it giving Lilith control as he felt your hot mouth wrap around his cock. You bobbed your head skillfully taking him fully, your nose brushed against his pubic hair. You were always proud you could fit him in your mouth entirely, his hands dug into your hair pulling you somehow closer. You gagged but never thought about pulling away, you hollowed your cheeks making sure to use your tongue to trace the prominent veins underneath his shaft. His hips bucked into your mouth, he fucked your mouth with fervor groaning and whining the entire time. “That’s it, so close baby gonna cum-“

You pulled off with a significant pop, drool and pre-cum glistening on your lips and dripping from your chin. He made a heartbroken face in your direction as you licked your lips seductively, “oh my good girl, come to mommy.” Lilith purred as you rose to your feet, her hands wrapped around your waist as she pulled you onto the bed. Her dress had long since been discarded and her perfect breasts hung freely over you. “I’m gonna ride your face like the throne I deserve and Lucifer’s going to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” It wasn’t a question but a command, “I’m sure you’re wet enough. I know how much you love sucking my husband’s cock.” You could only nod eagerly,

“Can I touch you?”

“You may.”

Your hands immediately shot forward, cupping her breasts between your fingers. She let out a sigh, beautiful and airy as your fingers brushed over her nipples. "That's a good girl," She purred as you began to massage her chest eagerly. Your tail swished wrapping around her waist urging her forward towards your mouth, "How impatient. Lucifer darling?"

"Y-yeah!" He sputtered removing his hand from his cock as Lilith turned to look at him. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, unbuttoned and his pants were still down around his ankles. Face flushed red standing awkwardly, watching his two loves make out. She tutted and he flushed harder, "Sorry..."

"You're luckily out little lamb here has me in a good mood." She groaned a little as you leaned up as far as you could to nip at her breast. "Oh darling...Lucifer get over here and fuck her."

"Yes ma'am!" Lucifer grinned wiggling his leg and kicking his pants into the corner of the room...well tried to he ended up falling directly onto his face. Lilith sighed rubbing the bridge of her nose while you burst into a fit of giggles. You tried to cover you mouth with your hands as you tilted your head backwards, he raised his head with a nervous smile. "My bad," His voice cracked a little as he fumbled his way over to the both of you.

"You're such a goofball," Lilith sighed now trying to hide her smile from her husband. "You still alright to continue?" She was looking at Lucifer but you knew the question was for the both of you. Embarrassed Lucifer nodded as you responded with a resounding

"Yes!"

"Good then let us continue." She mused clapping her hands together as the lights in the room dimmed and the candles flickered to life. She leaned forward connecting your lips together you moaned quietly against her, her hand coming up under your bra to squeeze your chest gently. "Ready?"

You felt Lucifer's nails trail your thighs and his lips pressing gentle kisses to the skin there. You shivered at the touch and felt him smile against your flesh, "Yes Mistress." You saw her smile, beautiful like the sky back on Earth. She moved with the grace of a queen as she moved to sit on your face, squeezing her thighs against your head. Lilith let out a loud intake of breath as your tongue prodded at her entrance. Your hands moved to dig your nails into her thighs as you ate her out like a woman starved. Meanwhile you felt Lucifer bite at your inner thighs causing you to moan against Lilith, she let out an elegant groan as her hips began to roll into against your mouth. You heard the devil snap his fingers as your bottom half got much breezier, he had snapped your underwear away, thank god they weren't your favorite pair.

He was making sure to mark you up before licking a stripe up your pussy his snake like tongue moving circles on your clit. Your thighs unconsciously clamped around your head and you felt him tut against you yanking your thighs away from his skull. You wined as Lilith ground down on her, filling your mouth with her wetness, nose brushing against her clit. You felt the dynamic switch as Lucifer leaned back thumb massaging your bud and fingers teasing your entrance mercilessly. You tried to get out a mumble out a please, but Lilith's body made your plea sound like nothing but a mumble, "You trying to beg Duckling? It's a shame you can't."

"Aw Luci don't be mean to the poor girl, she's working hard to please me-" She was cut off with a moan eyes fluttering, "I'm close. Don't be mean to her when she's doing such a good job. Unless she's somehow not wet enough but I doubt that."

"Oh she's dripping." Lucifer mused, "But if you allow it I'll fuck her immediately. After all, it's her turn to be throughly bred." You moaned hotly into her and her sweet sounds tangled with your own, her entire body pressed hard into you as she climaxed into your mouth. Her chest heaved as she slid off you, your mouth wet with her juices, as your tongue came to swipe at your lips.

"Lili!~" You moaned your hand reaching out towards her, she hushed you softly intertwining her hand within your own, she looked over at Lucifer, "Please."

She hummed turning to face Lucifer giving a nod, his entire face lit up like the stars, he leaned foward to kiss you tenderly. "I love you,"

"I love you too," You purred cupping his cheeks sweetly. "Don't make me beg,"

"I won't you've been plenty good." He pressed a kiss to your nose causing you to giggle. He gave himself a few pumps before sliding into you with relatively ease. Your eyes rolled back in your head fluttered with a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck...baby-" He moaned, "You're alway so tight around me." You didn't get a chance to respond before Lilith placed her lips onto yours and her hands under your bra; palming at your chest. Lucifer sucked in a needy breath at the sight and your hips began to buck up against him continuing to flutter around him. He took your hint and began to pump in and out of you, you broke away from Lilith spit still connecting the two of you as you let out a loud moan. "That's it...my good girl."

He always felt so big inside you, you swore he'd break you in half, as your toes curled once he hit the spongey spot inside of you. "More." You demanded as Lilith giggled, "Fill me up."

"As you wish, you wanna make me another Daddy-"

"Dad?"

"FUCK ME!" Lucifer yelped his wings suddenly sprouting out of his back in a panic, pulling out of you in a hurry. Your eyes widened into saucers clamping down on him in surprise which caused him to cum prematurely over your stomach. Lilith cursed under her breath, frantically looking around for a blanket.

"Lucifer!" He was snapped back to life by the sound of Lilith's voice his wings quickly shifted covering the both of you.

"Oh God!" Charlie shrieked once she fully processed what was going on, she covered her eyes. The teenager's cheeks were flushed, "What the fuck!"

"We're so sorry!" Lucifer sputtered, moving to get up to explain himself.

"DAD DON'T GET UP!"

"Lucifer!" Lilith hissed,

"SORRY!"

"I'm leaving!" Charlie squeaked out, "Sorry! Sorry! Oh god my eyes!" The door slammed shut with a bang as Lucifer's wings disappeared and buried his face in his hands.

—

It wasn't a surprise that she first came to you with her hotel idea to rehabilitate sinners instead of her father. You shuffled uncomfortably as she held out her drawing cards; she was pointing eagerly to her plans. By her side was her girlfriend Vaggie, the girlfriend Lucifer didn't know about.

She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

"Charlie, you know I love you and admire your ambition; I always have, but..." You trailed off as she frowned, lowering her papers. Your heart ached, "Shouldn't you be talking to your father about this- and don't say I'm your mother, you know what I mean." You held your finger up to stop her, “it's just. I don’t know how I can help you sweetheart.”

“Well I was…ya know thinking. That you could maybe possibly I don’t know, convince dad it’s a good plan. And well I don't know get me a meeting with Heaven.”

You winced, “Charlie…” she pouted giving you her saddest puppy dog face, “I only have so much power when he comes to controlling your father.”

“But we’re making SUCH good progress. Angel Dust is on the road to redemption as we speak!” She exclaimed, “right Vaggie?”

“Right.” She smiled reassuringly up at her girlfriend before turning to you, “just…try please. If it doesn’t work Charlie will call him and figure something else out. We aren’t asking for him to help,” Charlie opened her mouth to protest, “without seeing it himself first.” She corrected and her girlfriend nodded in approval.

“You two I swear.” You stood on your toes grabbing Charlie’s red cheeks kissing both as she flushed. “If your father kills me it’s your fault,”

“He’d never!” Charlie looked aghast, “he loves you like he loved Mom!”

“I know, Hon. Don’t worry, figure of speech.”

“Oh,” she frowned. “Well, try not to talk like that. Think positive!” Charlie grabbed your hands and opened her mouth,

"I love you, but please don't sing right now." You kissed her knuckles softly, "I need all my brainpower to talk to your dad."

"Understood!" She squealed, "I love you!"

"I love you too. Now shoo, your dad will call you later." She wrapped you in another hug, and Vaggie nodded her head in your direction with a little smile. Charlie pulled away and interlocked her hand with her girlfriend before scampering off. You rubbed your face tiredly; Lucifer and your relationship had been strained since Lilith left. You still loved one another dearly, but her leaving had taken a toll on both of you. While he retreated to isolate himself in his room, you coped in other ways, namely, running his kingdom for him to the best of your ability. The only things you didn't do were meetings and phone calls with the Seraphim or the Angels.

So, things between the both of you have been a little more than awkward and tense. Not knowing how Charlie would react, you both decided it was better to try to deal with your emotions privately instead of telling her outright that you were having relationship issues. You still slept in the same bed, but most of the time, it felt like he was barely there...reminding you that you were just a lover and not a wife.

Cursing inwardly at the thought, you loved Lilith; you missed her smile, her voice, and her kindness. But it was hard not to feel bitter at times; she left you and Lucifer...alone...for going on seven years.

It had not only devastated him, but Charlie, and you as well. Despite your wishes those bitter thoughts, were getting more and more common.

You let out a shaky sigh before you smoothed out any wrinkles in your dress as you approached his workshop. You knocked softly on the door. You heard frantic rustling and fumbling of what you could only assume was another rubber duck project before the door was hurriedly thrown open. His eyes squinted like he was trying to gather what you were doing here before he let out a panicked, nervous laugh.

"Duckling!" you could hear the nervous tremor in his voice, "What-ugh- what are you doing here?"

"I live here? We sleep in the same bed." You deadpanned,

"No, I mean! Er, my workshop,"

"Charlie stopped by-"

"She did?!" The panic in his voice was even more evident now that you mentioned the possibility that his daughter was here you watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Is she still here? You got her to leave right? Did she ask about me? I'm not prepared and-"

"Luci," Your tone softened, cupping his cheeks and running his thumb across the apples of them, "She's not here. She had a message she wanted me to relay to you."

"She...asked you and not me?" He murmured, and you chewed the inside of his cheek,

"It wasn't a long visit; you were very busy."

"Yes...I was busy."

You both stared at one another, tension seeping into your bones. Your tail flicked restlessly, and Lucifer's claws drummed nervously on the wood of the doorframe. "Welp!" He clapped his hands together, "If that's all." He moved to spin around back into his duck-filled workshop,

"I didn't even tell you what she wanted..." You spoke quietly, reaching out to touch his shoulder but he flinched away before you could make contact again.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to flinch. It's just Lilith and...and I know we haven't been intimate- It's just-" He rambled,

"No, please don't apologize." Your smile was strained, and your hands clutched the top of your dress. "I understand completely, Your Majesty."

He said your name, pained, "Don't do this-"

You held up your hand, silencing him, "It's fine." You doubled down on the earlier statement before sighing, shoulders slumping, your entire body felt heavy. "I love you but I don't know if I can keep doing this..."

"Please stop." He reached forward to grab your shoulders, in a frantic way to prove he wasn't afraid to touch you.

"Lucifer, I'm tired." You looked up at him and already felt the stinging behind your eyes, "I miss her so much it hurts...I miss you. I'm so lonely I feel like I could die again."

"Don't say that." He said seriously, hands moving from shoulders to your cheeks, "Never say that. If you died, I couldn't bear it."

"The great Lucifer Morningstar would live, I'm sure. Although he'd have to rule his own kingdom again." Your lips twitched in a sad smile,

"I don't think I would." He chose to ignore the second part of the statement, "I know." You watched his throat bob, "I haven't been fair to you. I've shut you out, and I shouldn't have, and it breaks my heart that I made you doubt my love for you." His fingers brushed against your cheek, wiping away tears that began to roll.

"Lilith is your wife, and I can't imagine what you're going through-"

"Out of everyone, I think you're the only one who can relate to what I'm going through." He laughed airily, "I'm a mess. I'm depressed, and what kind of man am I? My wife left, our daughter hates me, and you can't stand to be in the same room as me."

"But that's all I've wanted!" You shouted, not unkindly, "I want to be with you, I'm meant to be your rock, your support how can I do that if you shut me out."

"I never meant to!" He exclaimed, "I just- I hate myself all the time-"

"Join the club!"

"Fuck. We're both messes, aren't we?"

"More than," You laughed, rubbing your eyes. "Look, Luci..." He blushed a bit at the nickname, and it made you smile. "Can you promise me we'll work on it, work on everything, together? No more shutting one another out."

"Promise." He stood on his tip toes and leaned forward, hesitating slightly, "I don't want to pressure-" You grabbed his lapels and pulled him close, pressing a hot kiss to his lips. He groaned a bit into it, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. "I missed this, I missed you," He mumbled against your lips. "I'll be better. To both of you-"

"Oh." You snapped your fingers, pulling away from him, and he made an 'eh' like sound. "Speaking of Charlie wants you to get her a meeting with Heaven."

"WHAT!"

[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗗𝗢 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗛𝗜𝗠? ˚. ᵎᵎ 

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled.

୨୧ I had a dream where I had a baby and when I woke up I realized it wasn't real. FOR SOME REASON IT BROKE MY HEART SO THIS IS INSPIRED BY THE IMAGINARY BABY MY BRAIN JUST DECIDED TO MAKE UP

୨୧ The baby's name is up to you, I'd like to know your ideas ;)

୨୧ I'm definitely writing about Vi exploring the Firelights' hideout and randomly running into a girl holding an exact copy of her friend Little Man in arms.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Firelight's hideout was eerily quiet. You were standing at the foot of the tree with a small bundle in your arms. The baby—Ekko’s son, your son—stared up at you with wide, curious eyes, his features a miniature reflection of his father’s. The sight was a double-edged sword: it filled you with a bittersweet warmth and an aching longing.

It had been months since Ekko left to investigate the infected tree, months of waiting, worrying, and shouldering the responsibilities he had once shared with you. Every day, you prayed he would walk back through the doors, his grin lighting up the room like the first rays of dawn. But every day, he didn’t.

Your baby gurgled, tiny fists gripping your necklace, the one with the hourglass symbol that your boyfriend had made just for you. His presence was both your anchor and your heartache. He was everything you had left of Ekko, and you had to believe Ekko would come back. He had to. For his family. For his people.

Some members of the Firelights had stepped in to help, as they always did. They made toys, looked after him while you were busy with other things at the hideout, you even found some of the older children telling him stories about his father, how he saved them from somewhere or how much your son looked like him. But they couldn’t replace him, no matter how much they tried. Your son needed his father. And so did you.

When you told Ekko you were pregnant, you braced yourself for anything—confusion, fear, anger. You hadn’t anticipated his face breaking into the widest grin you’d ever seen, his laugh bubbling out like an uncontrollable stream of joy.

“Wait, wait—are you serious?” he had asked, his voice cracking with excitement.

You nodded, watching as he leapt up from his seat, pumping his fists into the air before grabbing you in a tight embrace. He kissed you so many times you lost count, his words spilling over each other like rushing water.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair. “I don’t even know what to say—thank you.”

It was… overwhelming, to say the least. You couldn’t fathom how someone with so much already on his shoulders could embrace another responsibility so wholeheartedly. But Ekko didn’t just embrace it; he flourished.

As he did with everything in his life.

The crib was his first project. He had pieced it together with determination etched into his features, sanding the wood and painting it himself. He showed off every detail with pride, especially the carvings of tiny fireflies along the edges.

Then came the room. The Firelights banded together to help him paint the walls in bright, playful hues, with murals of fireflies glowing against a dark blue sky. You watched from the doorway, tears in your eyes, as Ekko stood back to admire their work, his hand resting on your growing belly.

Ekko had been an awkward yet dedicated father from the moment your baby was born. The first time he held his son, his hands trembled with a mix of fear and awe.

“He’s so small,” he had said, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way he looked at your baby, like he was holding the world itself, melted every doubt you had ever had.

He learned quickly. When your baby cried at night, Ekko was the first to his feet, scooping him up and rocking him gently until the cries faded into tiny hiccups. He talked to him, sang to him, shared stories of Zaun and the Firelights as if the baby could understand every word.

“I want him to know,” he told you one night, his voice quiet as he cradled his son in his arms. “About where we come from. About what we’re fighting for.”

Those months together had been the happiest of your life. Even Vi’s unexpected return—her wide-eyed shock at seeing Ekko with a family—felt like a promise that things were looking up.

But then the tree fell ill, its vibrant glow dimming under the weight of some unknown blight. Ekko had left with promises to return quickly, determined to save the heart of the Firelights’ sanctuary. Weeks stretched into months. His absence became a gaping hole in your life, and with each passing day, the hope of seeing him again grew dimmer.

You swayed gently, humming a soft tune to calm the baby nestled in your arms. He had Ekko’s eyes and his white hair. Every time you looked at him, it was like a ghost of his father was there, watching over you.

The hideout huge door creaked open, and your heart jumped, hope flaring like a wildfire. But it wasn’t him. Just another Firelight returning from patrol. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Still no sign?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

The Firelight shook their head, avoiding your gaze. You felt your chest tighten, but you couldn’t let them see how much it hurt. You had to stay strong. For them. For your baby.

The day dragged on, the tension in the air palpable. The Firelights were restless, their leader’s absence weighing heavily on their spirits. They looked to you now, not as a leader, but as a symbol of hope. You hated it. You weren’t Ekko. You couldn’t inspire them the way he did.

All you could do was hold things together until he came back.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Part two here...

[gloomwitchwrites]

In the Wolf's Maw

Werewolf John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild dubcon, knotting, mating bonds, accidental mating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding, dominance, protectiveness, possessive behavior, werewolf!Price, shifter!Price

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Requested by @glitterypirateduck for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Werewolf AU)

Walking home on Halloween night, you’re accosted by three strange men. From the dark emerges a stranger, but one that has been haunting your steps for months. He might be your savior, but there is a deeper hunger within him that needs to be satiated, and only you can satisfy it.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Something walks with you amongst the trees.

It is always near—always close—but never enough for you to glimpse it between the towering bark.

When you first felt the strange presence, you believed it to be human. Your senses awakened in expectation of threatening intent, but now, with the passing of the months, you no longer believe it to be so.

Whether for good or ill, a human would have revealed themselves in some capacity. This must be animal. It has to be. Either curious or cautious but it clearly does not see you as a threat. It is always there though. A phantom. A figure. You've never seen who or what but you sense it.

"You should really take the main road. I don't understand why you insist on cutting through the forest."

"It's peaceful," you reply. "Gives me time to think."

Your friend arches an eyebrow. "You know the stories."

"Myths," you correct. "Not stories."

"Myths always carry a bit of truth."

There are wolves in the forest. But they live deeper, away from the human population. Wolf sightings are extremely rare, and those that claim to see them are often known for being terrible gossips and liars.

The myth that walks with them is that the wolves are not wolves at all.

They are cursed men. Shifters. Werewolves.

It's nonsense.

Scientifically impossible.

The wolves are only wolves. Maybe the one that watches you is one of these wolves?

Possible, but unlikely.

For all you know, you're being watched by a curious scurry of squirrels.

The myth is history drenched, from a time when people needed to explain natural phenomena they didn't understand. It is only stories.

Or so you believed.

It's late in October. Halloween night.

You stayed far too late at the local library, browsing shelves and losing track of time until the librarian, Mrs. Dean, came scouting for you in the basement archive. Down there, you went searching for what hadn't been digitized, seeking stories about these wolves.

Most of what you uncovered were old newspaper articles of missing women and mauled men in the forest. The details were few and relatively unhelpful, but like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe, there was one consistency in all of them.

The myth, mentioned at the end of every article. Cursed men that shift into wolves. Men in the skin of a predator that hunt women and slaughter their menfolk. You'd think the town had a serial killer, but the articles go back far enough in time that it simply couldn't be the case. Many of the articles cite historical records and reports of the same thing happening over a hundred years ago.

It plagues you on your walk home.

Staying late at the library and taking the path through the forest home takes you away from the roaming families and the angsty teens ready to terrorize anyone who steps in their path. The streets are alive with movement, but you need to collect your thoughts, to consider what you've found and figure out where to look next.

A gentle wind brings a chill with it, sneaking underneath your coat to tease skin. Shivering, you bundle up tighter, the cold bite of air adding a kick to your step. You feel eyes on you, but not your anonymous phantom.

These eyes feel cruel. Malicious.

"What's this?"

Three tall figures in masks emerge from the dark. Like a whisper of wind they appear, skulking toward you, fanning out in a half-moon directly in front of you.

"Cute thing like you shouldn't be out here all on your own." The voice is masculine. Deep. Not one of the local teens. This is someone much older. "There are...wolves about."

The trio saunters forward, the two on the ends splintering off from the man in the middle, slowly boxing you in. There is nowhere to go but behind. Turning tail and running means a chase. You scent their excitement. That is what they're itching for.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the concern," you reply in the blandest voice you can muster.

Don't show fear.

"Need an escort?"

He's not taking the hint, but what did you expect?

Missing women. Dead men.

"No. Thank you."

Squaring your shoulders, you charge forward, intent on walking through the two on the right. In sync, they close ranks, blocking your path.

"Sure about that?"

"We insist."

Your lips part. "I'm—"

A low growl reaches your ears. It is laced with warning, and a sudden surge of energy rushes up to greet you, wrapping around and between your limbs like invisible rope. You know this sensation. It is familiar and unwaveringly comforting.

The two men standing in front of you glance over your shoulder. From behind their masks, their eyes widen with abject terror. Their shoulders tighten with tension, and they freeze like a deer sensing danger.

The growl comes again, and that sensation bleeds into you further, becoming more than just comfort.

It is...ownership.

Possession.

"What the fuck is that?" whispers one of the men.

They're not focused on you anymore. They're looking beyond you. Behind.

"Fucking run, mate. Run!"

The three men stumble backward, becoming small and insignificant before your very eyes. They shove at each other, not for encouragement, but for distraction. If one should fall, it might distract whatever it is that lurks behind you.

At first, you do not turn. You wait for the pounce—for the growl. But there is nothing. Only silence. Yet those invisible ropes still cling to your body. They still hold tight.

With a baffling sense of calm, you slowly swivel.

There is a wolf. Not a normal one you might see in a wilderness documentary. This one is large, nearly as tall as you on all fours. Its fur is a deep brown. It watches you intently, gaze fixated on nothing else. Even as you take a step away, the creature does not waiver.

It's unnerving, at least, it should be. Yet that comforting familiarity shuts out everything else. It chases away fear and doubt. You know that the natural instinct of any animal facing down a larger predator is survival, but there is nothing that beats within your body that suggests your fight or flight response is on.

It is eerily peaceful. Serene even.

If this sensation did not encompass you as completely as it did, you suspect that you'd be like the trio. Afraid. Terrified.

But just because your sense has left you, that doesn't mean your brain has. It is loud and it is talking.

Do not turn your back. Do not break eye contact. Make yourself big. Make noise. Move backward slowly.

You stretch your arms out wide, puffing your chest, attempting to make yourself bigger. Not like you could ever compare to this beast. You step back, breathe in, preparing a yell.

But just as you do, the wolf shifts. It's not showing its fangs or quickening its haunches. It only watches on, alert and curious. Not aggressive.

There is no submission, though. The wolf does not seem intent on simply walking away. That sensation hugging your body brightens, and a flare of possession surges through you, stiffening your muscles as if you've been turned to stone.

The wolf shifts again. Shakes. Takes a step toward you.

As it does, you hear bones pop and snap. Beneath the wolf, its legs twist and bend beneath it, staggering its forward progress. Its nostrils flare and then the neck snaps as if lurched to the side by some invisible force.

"What the fuck," you mutter, that sense of calm slipping.

The connection is still there, but it's slightly weaker than before. A drop of fear creeps in, and the need to escape starts to bloom in your chest. It widens, that familiarity leaking away to bleed into the earth as the broken wolf shakes and twists some more.

It is just a mass of fur and tangled limbs.

And then, from the pile, the fur splits open, and a human arm emergers, the fingers reaching out, tearing at the dirt.

You need to go, to fucking run.

The phantom threads release you, and your feet find their purchase. You launch yourself backward and away, sprinting as fast as you can. The cold, October air bites at your cheeks. Everything burns.

You know this is just adrenaline. It will fade and you will crash.

Boot slipping on dead leaves, you go stumbling forward, the ground coming up fast. You're jerked to a stop. Halted. Face inches away from smashing into a rock. Glancing down your body, you see...arms. Human arms. Wrapped around your torso. They are muscular and marked with protruding veins, with a dusting of hair along the forearms.

Slowly, you are lifted upward and onto your feet, but the arms remain. Warmth greets you, pressing into your back to chase away the October chill. With it comes a honey-laced scent. It is sweet and lulling, seeping into your pores to flood your senses. This is like before—the awareness of familiarity and possession, but there is a difference in its tone. Beneath it is a wicked teasing, a promise of dominance and pleasure. Like the invisible ropes, it overpowers, wrapping around you to hold you like a blanket.

It is enticing. A pull that calls to you. Something within you reverberates its call, answering back.

The arms around you tighten until you're firmly pressed against the man holding you. That is who it is. Not what. The wolf is gone. This is solid flesh.

This is myth made life.

The lulling sensation settles in, calling to you, telling you to submit.

It would be so easy. So simple.

No.

You push at the man's arms, twisting in an attempt to break free. But your savior turned captor holds firm, allowing nothing.

"Let me go."

"No."

The no is a rumble deep in his chest. It vibrates through the pull and into your bones. This is a command, and your body promptly responds, coiling tight.

Glancing over your shoulder, you lock gazes with the man holding you in his arms. You're staring at the face of a man. He is handsome. Older. His skin is lightly coated in sweat and dirt. But the eyes. They are wolf eyes. Completely animal. The rest of him is completely bare. No clothing in sight, and yet he doesn’t appear cold.

His chest heaves slightly, nostrils flaring. This man burst forth from the wolf, but there is still a beastly quality that sings along the pull. This man is somewhere between, lingering between the wolf and humanity.

How you know this isn't entirely clear. There is a link somewhere. A tether. His closeness only makes the awareness grow in strength. Confusion and concern twist together even as the comforting familiarity attempts to soothe your nerves.

"Please," you murmur, not entirely understanding yourself what it is you're trying to say.

The man only sighs. His head dips, and then he inhales deeply as if—

Is he…scenting you?

"What are—"

The question disappears from your lips. Taken from your mouth. The stranger nuzzles your neck, inhaling deeper. One hand descends as the other rises. Along the pull you feel heat, it floods outward from him and into you, going straight to your pussy.

The descending hand slides between your legs, cupping your sex. The other roams up your stomach to your chest, gently learning the curve of a breast through your sweater.

He groans low, and that too reverberates within you. A tingling blooms in your core. There is your own desire, but beside it is another. His.

The stranger's hand slides further between your legs. Back and forth, the pressure building so suddenly and intensely that your pussy clenches.

He inhales again. Growls. "Mine."

That one word is like a slap to the face and a comforting caress. Along the pull, it is a dominating serenity. Outwardly, your freedom rebels, pushing against the idea.

As if sensing the unease, his hold on you releases, but only for a moment. He lifts you effortlessly into his arms, clutching you tightly, strutting forward with purpose in every step. You sense it through the pull, this taut string that has woven its way inside.

"Let me go," you murmur, pressing against his firm chest.

Be calm.

The command comes not from his own throat, but from within your head. It is his voice. Clear and resonate. The moment your brain processes it, all your limbs soften like jelly.

Are you trapped? Have you been possessed?

A part of you firmly clings to this idea while the other part remains completely calm as if this is supposed to happen.

He walks deeper into the forest, and time stretches, the stars through the canopy your only light. The trees thicken, and then the stranger comes to a stop before a group of jagged rocks that juts upward from the ground.

Within the rock, you spy darkness.

An opening. An entrance.

Instinct flares, and the need to escape comes rushing back. Be calm, he says again.

This time, there is no instantaneous softening. Along the pull, something tightens, as if adjusting a belt buckle. A wildness stirs, and the earlier arousal returns, tinged with desperation. Eagerness settles in your chest, but it feels more like his emotions than yours.

The man walks toward the rock. He tilts forward, stepping inside, submerging the two of you in utter darkness. Yet, you do not feel frightened. Each step of his is confident and steady, and as the two of you steadily move forward, a soft white glow begins to appear. It is faint at first. Soft.

Another opening emerges, and before you is an antechamber. In the middle of the rock-laden room is a massive slab of solid, black stone. It stands at waist level, the surface worn from age. Above it is an opening in the cave ceiling. From it, moonlight falls upon the rock slab. An acrid odor fills your nostrils. A brief brush of wind slides against your cheek. Something magical and old stirs. Something primal.

He stops at the rock slab, and then gently brings you down to your feet. Solid ground is comforting. Stable and strong.

The wolf eyes stare back at you. A fire swirls within them. As your gazes’ lock, memory surges down the pull. That familiar feeling returns, and with it, memories of you.

He is the one who has walked with you amongst the trees. He is the one who has been the presence at your back. Keeping you safe. Protected. A sense of duty follows the memory along with a flare of purpose. At the end is dominance and possession. It all slithers around the pull until you feel it in every part of you down to the tips of your fingers.

Maybe all those missing women aren’t missing at all. Maybe they went willingly. Maybe they had wolfish protectors of their own.

You are at ease, your limbs responding of their own accord. You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart. Its beat is strong beneath your palm. He places his hand over yours, gently grasping it. Stepping forward, his head dips, forehead pressing to yours with an intimacy that somehow feels…normal. Like you've known it all your life.

Along the tether, you taste a name.

John.

His name is John.

"John," you breathe, and his hand upon yours tightens.

The distance closes, a radiating heat bursting within your chest as John’s other hand falls upon your hip. It flows outward, warming you down to your toes and into your fingers. John's lips find yours, and it is perfectly blissful. This stranger is not unknown to you. Your soul sings with longing and want.

There is a connection here. Why not seek it?

You return the kiss, grasping the back of his neck, moving in to consume just as he does. John's answer is a deep growl, one that vibrates in his chest. A sharp spike of arousal shoots through the tether, slamming into you at full force.

You gasp. Draw back.

John is partially transformed, fingers morphing into claws. With a groan that is more animal than human, John tugs at your clothes. They surrender under his touch, like a knife through softened bread. There is no ceremony to it. No ritual. You are laid bare before this man. At his mercy. The chilly October air rushes in and then immediately departs, John's body heat chasing it away almost the moment it arrives.

His hands are on your waist, lifting you, planting you atop the stone slab. You want to say something—anything, but all words escape your head and tongue as John spreads your legs wide and places his mouth on your pussy. Sudden surprise becomes languid pleasure.

He is ravenous. Hungry. John leaves no part of you untasted. Your moans echo in the small cave, filling the space with your ecstasy. His tongue delves inside, and then languidly slides upward to swirl and tease your clit. Everything in you tenses, anticipating release.

John's arms hook over your legs, hands splayed wide, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his mouth. With your pleasure comes his, rolling across the link in waves. It comes in flashes of images. You glimpse yourself as he sees you, not only in this moment, but in all the moments he's watched you.

Between the desire and need is a hint of loneliness, of an unfilled connection that burrows in his chest and eats away at his heart. This current moment isn't what he intended, but it has all unraveled.

Your grasp for him, fingers threading through his hair, tugging hard as your orgasm burns bright behind your eyelids.

Look at me, comes the command.

You do, and your gazes lock. His nails are still elongated, still claw-like. One pointed tip pierces your skin just as your orgasm bursts. He growls low.

Mine.

The voice. His voice.

Mine.

A sense of ownership and dominance enters your consciousness. You feel as if you're incomplete. only a portion of yourself, yet the end is near. It will all end, and you will be fulfilled.

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm John's tongue traces up the beads of blooming blood. You shiver, blinking to clear away some of the euphoria. John stands between your legs. His hands are still on your thighs, keeping them wide. In full view is his erect cock. There is a slight curve to it, and at the base is a swollen bulge. John squeezes one thigh and your gaze returns to his face. They are still all wolf.

When the wolf fades, what color might they be? The question pops into your head and then quickly fades. His wolfish features are starting to bleed in again. Nose elongating, fur returning, claws lengthening.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice a tangled snarl.

With a quickness that startles you, John flips you onto your stomach. His hands are everywhere, spreading you wider. You briefly glimpse him between your legs before he lifts himself up and onto the stone slab, settling behind you. Above you, one half-transformed hand presses against the stone just next to your head. His other finds rest against your waist.

While your own body buzzes with anticipation, you sense an excitement along the tether. John's excitement. Of the act itself but also of a sense of peace.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance. You exhale, relaxing your muscles, welcoming him in. You're wet, and your pussy accepts him with only the slightest resistance. He holds himself there for a moment, simply breathing. Like this, you feel entirely full. It's a snug fit, but it feels amazing, like his body was made for yours and yours for his.

Mine.

"Yours."

At your admission, John thrusts in earnest. There is nothing slow and sensual about his movements. It is only primal need and utter hunger. His arm hooks under your stomach, and then you're pressed firmly into the rock by his body. You are trapped beneath him, completely at John's mercy.

Each stroke is perfect. Cleansing.

You pant beneath him, almost in time with his own needy groans. The swell at the base of his cock slaps your pussy with each thrust. It doesn't seek entrance, but deep down, you know it will, but for what purpose is unclear.

John's movements become sharper. More intense. His panting increases, and you feel his mouth at your throat. There is a soft press of his lips, then a gentle tease of his tongue. You cannot see him, but you feel the transformation above you.

John is no longer human as his maw opens wide and holds your throat in it as he ruts. His cock swells in your pussy, stretching. The swell at the base prods, and with a final thrust, it pops in. John holds there, growling. His sharpened teeth pierce your skin. You feel the little rivers of blood trail down your throat. With the bite comes understanding. That tether becomes a solid, unbreakable thing.

Mine. She is mine.

Forever mine.

Mate.

Memories and emotions crash into your skull. You see all of John for who and what he is. A wolf. A shifter. The alpha of his pack.

Within your pussy, you feel a flood of heat. Now you know what the knot is for. His pleasure becomes yours, and you shiver, another orgasm creeping up suddenly and without warning. You clench down on his cock and on his knot. His answer is a pleased growl.

Ever so slowly, the wolf’s massive maw releases your throat. The transformed paw above your head disappears, followed by the weight of him. His cock and knot remain where they are. You feel him shiver. Hear a cracking of bone. You remain perfectly still until the ragged breathing of an animal becomes that of a human.

You turn just enough to glance over your shoulder. Behind you is John. The man, not the wolf. There are no sharp claws. No pointed teeth. The tips of his fingers brush over your skin, becoming full hands that gently caress. There is no harshness. His head tilts up, and for the first time, you're seeing him as he truly is.

Blue eyes. John has blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, exhaling deeply, a nervous flutter to his lashes.

"You're still inside me," you reply softly.

He glances down and groans. "Fucking hell. Forgot about that." He flushes slightly. "It'll be a minute."

"A minute?"

He grimaces. "The knot. Still swollen. It'll hurt you if I pull out now."

"Oh."

There is a stretch of silence. John sighs, his hands gentle tapping a rhythm against your ass. "This is...awkward,” he murmurs.

"Is it?" you ask, arching a single eyebrow.

"John," he says sheepishly, extending his hand in introduction.

"I know your name. I heard it through the—"

"The bond," he finishes. "I know." He drops his hand, and places it on your lower back. Using the position, John tests the knot. You wince. It doesn’t want to budge. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for...this."

"It's fine,” you reply, because it is.

You feel light. Content. This man is a complete stranger and yet not. Between you is the bond. There is strength in it, and a comforting embrace that you’ve always wanted but have never found.

"It's not." He sighs. "It's not how I wanted to do this," he mutters. Gripping your hips, John tests the knot. There is resistance but it’s significantly less than before. "Relax your muscles," he says softly.

You inhale, and on the exhale, John withdraws. You whimper from the brief flare of resistance but it isn't painful.

“I forget myself when I’m changed. You were threatened, and I couldn’t resist the impulse to protect you. For the wolf, that meant stealing you away. Completing the bond. But it’s not an excuse.”

You draw your knees up, suddenly realizing how exposed you are.

“You didn’t harm me. Except—”

You reach up and touch your throat. There is no blood or puncture wounds. Just a couple raised bumps that weren’t there before.

“What is this place?” you ask, glancing around.

John’s gaze scans the room, and then returns to you. “A ceremonial space. It’s been here for thousands of years. The wolf brought you here because it knew it would be safe.” He licks his lips in agitation, and then runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at them in irritation. “Could we begin again? Start over?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He places both hands on the stone slab, leaning in close. “I’ll…take you home.” His muscles bunch with tension when he says it. Along the bond, you sense the wolf’s firm refusal of the idea. “I’ll come to you during the day. We can talk.”

You scoot down the rock slab, moving closer to him. The middle of John’s brow furrows with confusion as he watches you. As you cozy up to him, you sense his calm—the relaxing of his muscles. John’s head dips, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyelids close in pleasure.

“My scent is all over you,” he purrs.

A mix of deep desire and contentment wraps you up in its embrace.

“How do you plan on taking me home? You did shred all my clothes.”

John chuckles. “Discreetly.”

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[kastalani123]

Mmmmmmmm, but what if Estelle grows up without knowing about the Greek myths being real?

What if Sally and Paul look at Percy, who's hesitant to hold his baby sister for fear of drowning her with blood-drenched hands, who eventually holds her like she's made of glass because the Destroyer is afraid of breaking her, who shoves his face into his pillow to keep his nightmares from waking her up–

What if Sally and Paul look at Percy, seventeen years old with the world resting on his shoulders since he was twelve, and ask, "Do you want her to know?"

And he wonders. He thought it'd be a given, that she'd grow up surrounded by monsters and magic, that he'd make fish made of water swim around her to make her laugh, that there would be no secrets as to his life's horror.

But he wonders. He thinks that, maybe, she won't have to grow up afraid of her own shadow. She's mortal, after all. There is no ichor in her veins. There is no guarantee she will be Clear Sighted.

There is no reason she can't live a normal life.

There is no reason she has to be woven into the Fates' tapestry beyond the barest of mentions.

He wonders, and he decides no. No, this one person, this little bundle of giggles, this reason that motivates him to learn healthy coping mechanisms, this little sister of his — she will not be forced to grow up so fast. She will not hesitate making plans for her future in fear of never making it that far. She will not suffer scars from things other than risky bike tricks and tumbling down a hill.

This one person that he can protect, for once in his life. This one person that he will protect, from both of his worlds.

Oh, it's not that she doesn't know anything. He makes sure she knows as many myths as possible, as many ways to protect herself as she can learn, as many people and places that can help her if she ever needs it. She grows up with bedtime stories about winged horses and giant dogs and a number of human-animal hybrids. She dreams of a brother with a scarred lip and a girl who loves too much and a sister who usually thinks of her sibling before herself and a boy who can tame dragons, and sometimes it's like her dreams are real, like she actually knows the characters from her brother's stories. She learns to recognize unfairness and abuse, to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves, to make things right even if she has to force unwilling hands to do what she wants with trickery.

She knows so much.

But she never climbs a wall flowing with lava. But she never picks up a sword and dons a set of armor. But she never learns her loved ones' scars don't come from unfortunate accidents. But she never flies through the sky on helpful wings. But she never dives into the depths of the ocean in a bubble of air. But she never gets lost in a house that's always changing its layout to suit its occupants' needs. But she never watches her home in ruin. But she never runs from an inferno consuming the world around her. But she never cradles a friend's body as the life drains from their eyes.

But she never stops being an ordinary mortal.

[gemsalive]

re: that HEFTY siffrin sweep on id5’s isat favourite blorbos poll — this might sound silly but i do actually think it’s kinda fascinating that isat, as a game so inseparably steeped in (for lack of a better way to describe it) queer fandom culture, managed to so completely sidestep the common Fandom Phenomenon that i suspect was behind the poll in the first place by creating a main character that is also overwhelmingly the fan favourite character for once.

obviously there are any number of factors we could point at to explain the extent to which siffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames manages to grab people and absolutely not let go, but personally i think one of the most interesting ones to consider is the one specific to the medium — that is, how siffrin subverts the “silent blank slate video game protagonist” archetype in such a way that happens to be primo brainrot breeding grounds.

like, when a video game dev makes a silent protagonist it’s usually a bid to maximize immersion by closing the aesthetic distance between player and character as much as possible, right? which is especially true of rpg video games — players find connection in the generic, as that is what gives you the freedom of motion to insert yourself into the story in whatever unique shape suits you best. you are your character and your character is you.

(as ever, post ran long. yall know the drill. tossin in a quick header pic before thoughts on blank slates & blorboification continue under the cut)

and then you’ve got siffrin, who is expressly pointed out to be the taciturn type; who when initially giving the player exposition about their journey so far doesn’t seem to hint at a life or history or even really any motivations outside the journey; whose every thought and action is narrated in second person so as to keep tracing and re-tracing the connection between him and you.

even their design — all darkless and shapeless, bundled up in that big cloak, as if an invitation for you to fill it in with whatever lets you relate to them most! at this point they are their own character for sure, but they also have enough very clear parallels going on with the silent protagonist archetype to feel more than accidental.

of course, as you keep playing you start to recognize that his blankness is much, much more than just a grab at immersion; his apparent lack of backstory, itself a fundamental piece of backstory. this is where he flips dramatically in the player’s perception from “generic vessel for story delivery” to “thoroughly multidimensional character trapped within endless torment nexus custom-built to target and exacerbate all his very specific worst traits rooted in very specific traumas”.

yknow, the good stuff !

but by then you have also been playing enough to be feeling the effects of the thing isat’s design does best of all. i’m talkin bout that ludonarrative lockstep baby. every piece of isat’s gameplay is designed to make you feel what siffrin is feeling — you understand by now that he is not a stand-in for you, but all the same you share in his frustration, his grief, his rare moments of joy and the subsequent heart-in-your-shoes devastation when that joy is inevitably poisoned — and through it all, the desperate grasping for anything new — all as if they were every bit your own.

so in this way the connection is maintained, even if you were someone for whom siffrin’s particular traits & struggles might not otherwise cause you relate to them at all if you had encountered them elsewhere, in a setting where you weren’t actively controlling them as a player. siffrin still gets to carry all the “just like me fr” impact of the blank slate protagonist in the tropes he embodies and in the game mechanics’ design, while totally free to evolve completely into his own character and keep you relating to closely them all the same. now toss back in the fact that said traits & struggles very much ARE of a flavour that a great many people Would Tend To Relate To and just like that you’ve got a perfect storm cookin.

too individual and compellingly written to be an empty vessel for plot delivery. too closely connected with the player’s emotional state to be a story observed impassively from the outside. he has 92 mental illnesses and for the low low price of free u can give him yours to carry too. nobody is doin it like him. congratulations on your well-deserved nose sniffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames <3

[januaryembrs]

THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7. 

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.  

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now. 

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included. 

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings. 

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up. 

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt. 

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t. 

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around. 

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help. 

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover. 

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,” 

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,” 

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her. 

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard. 

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her. 

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside. 

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?” 

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again. 

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her. 

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances. 

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece. 

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare. 

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching. 

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up. 

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms. 

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly. 

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help. 

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face. 

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried. 

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing. 

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home. 

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her. 

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic. 

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour  ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed. 

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it. 

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking. 

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed. 

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her. 

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more. 

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm. 

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few. 

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book. 

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,” 

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation. 

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?” 

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend. 

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words. 

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised. 

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse. 

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out. 

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit. 

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t. 

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,” 

Nothing. 

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of. 

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot. 

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver. 

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.  

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,” 

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then. 

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,” 

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out. 

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle. 

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before. 

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise. 

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,” 

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished. 

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack. 

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese. 

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this. 

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her. 

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,” 

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?” 

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid. 

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty. 

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there. 

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her. 

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now. 

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound. 

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too. 

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning. 

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol. 

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. 

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.” 

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile. 

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,” 

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks. 

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway. 

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in. 

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later. 

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing. 

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months. 

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was. 

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again. 

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door. 

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time. 

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years. 

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab. 

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed. 

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was. 

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans. 

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!” 

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. 

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with. 

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought. 

This never happened. 

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning. 

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s. 

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage. 

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more. 

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom. 

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit. 

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down. 

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her. 

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought. 

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her. 

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke. 

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,” 

“Hm?” 

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks. 

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,” 

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her. 

He felt like a fool. 

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.” 

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,” 

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth. 

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly. 

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.” 

He would be lying if he  said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder. 

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock. 

She kissed him. She had kissed him. 

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again. 

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together. 

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep. 

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow. 

–

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[sukunas-wife]

baby yuji who is super clingy to his dad and would rather be with him than his mom until mama has to leave to see a relative (or for some reason) and misses her so much that he makes trouble for daddy sukuna

Not sure if I wanted to do Modern day or Heian Era, but I really like the thought of

Yuji clinging to one of Sukuna’s arms while he just goes about his day sighing with a dead look and lifting his arm to bring Yuji to eye level just to make sure he’s still there. So that’s it, Heian Era it is, I’ll need to start adding that to when requests are submitted 🥹

Ryomen Yuji Sukuna loved clinging to his daddy’s side. Something the King of Curses was not used to but grew fond of in the course of days. He’s not a gentle beast and much less a soft man, but the way Yuji would cry when he entered the room, his little hands pushing him away from your chest and reaching out for him? He loved, it made him swell with pride that his son knew he was the one, he was the all powerful one and wanted to be by his side.

Many times you’d walk in on Sukuna speaking aimlessly to Yuji who was laying on his chest, one of Sukuna’s large hands almost covering him entirely. Two arms crossed behind his head, and his forth hands waved around aimlessly accentuating his points. “Hey are you listening brat…” Yuji’s little round eyes kept slowly opening and closing, doing his best to stay awake listening to whatever was happening. He let out a coo before his head fell completely against his dad’s chest and he fell asleep, little fists on his dads chest. Sukuna let out a long sigh, “mm, sleep then.”

Sukuna heard your hushed laugh and he looked at you, standing there in the doorway of your shared room. You quietly made your way over to him sitting beside him and brushing his hair out of his face. He grabbed your wrist, pulling it to his lips, and biting over your pulse point lightly. “Do you want to hold him or should I lay him down?” Sukuna let your hand slip from his before he pulled you down with him, “Leave him with me.”

Time crawled on and soon he was sleeping in the middle of your bed, his little pillow wedged between both your pillow and Sukuna’s. You could bear it but Sukuna was a menace to his own son. He’d bundle him up and throw him on his other side so he could hold you, Yuji would cry and punch his dads back with his little fists and wouldn’t stop until Sukuna would put him back in the middle. You’d smile fondly as Yuji would stand half laying on his Sukuna’s chest, and poking his face. It was funny watching how Yuji would try to touch his extra eyes and Sukuna would just hold him up in the air so he’d kick and laugh. That’s when he’d get his kisses in, and Yuji would fight harder because you were getting his dad’s attention instead of him.

Yuji did love you, he liked to hold your hand and go outside with you, he liked to follow you around and for some reason he always got clingier when you had to use the bathroom, it was “fun” using the restroom and there he was laughing and saying “hehe poopie” He loved sitting with you and drinking milk while you had tea and snacks. He learned your routine and Sukuna became curious one day when he was wrestling him around why he started kicking and trying to break free, “lemme go daddy I gonna go.” He was confused and offended, but curious why was his son running off so suddenly. He followed just to find you there sitting at a tea table outside under the plum blossoms. The soft look on your face was enough to lore Sukuna in to join you, that was until he saw the little hands pop up from behind the table in exaggerated motions like he was storytelling. “Mhmm, so you’re just like him then?” You were talking to Yuji who was exaggerating a story of how he was just wrestling with his father. His other hand was holding a sweet to his mouth where he was laid back on your lap, Sukuna was tempted to leave until you signalled him over. “I need to go to my family home soon. My only sister is getting married and my Father and Mother are requesting everyone to be there.” He sighed, he hated that overgrown village you came from. You didn’t come from a poverty stricken home but you weren’t bathing in lavishness as you were now.

“I’ll see you in 3 weeks. I love you.” Your lips met Sukuna’s in a kiss before Yuji was wedging himself in between both of you, “Bye mommy luf you.” He hugged your leg smiling up at you, you put a hand on his head rubbing his hair before kneeling down to hug him kissing his face all over and he laughed. “I love you too Yu.” Sukuna looked displeased when you finally left your home. Yuji was quick to pull on his hand to take him to wherever, everything was normal while Sukuna went about his business, Yuji lingering around until tea time came.

He got excited and started to run out into the garden where he’d always find you waiting. He stopped, The Plum blossom tree was there… but you weren’t.. no tea, no cake.. no “…mommy?…” the tears welling up in his eyes when he laid on the grass crying where the table would’ve been. Sukuna found him and rolled him over onto his side. He was red from crying, “Why do you cry?” Yuji was sniffling, tears and boogies running down his face. “ere’s no mommy.”

Sukuna sighed, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt, “stop crying she told you bye this morning, remember? She said she was leaving and you didn’t even try to go with her.”

“SHE'S NOT COMING BACK!?” Yuji started screaming and kicking while dangling in the air, “MOOMMMYYYY”

This was how Sukuna spent the rest of the first day. Yuji crying and kicking and fussing because all of a sudden he wanted to be with his mommy.

“…Lord Sukuna, forgive me but don’t you think the young prince should be consoled or at least fed?” It was one of your ladies in waiting who had stayed behind. She had the bravery to talk to Sukuna in a respectful and appropriate way which is why you decided to ask her to stay. You knew if anything happened she’d be the most reliable woman considering she was also older in age.

Sukuna didn’t bother a quick glance, “He’ll be fine, bring him here.”

There he sat holding Yuji and patting his back, “Your mother is coming back Yuji, she wouldn’t abandon you with such ease.” Yuji sniffled holding onto his dads open robes with a tight grip, “she’s comin back?” His little teary eyes moved his heart, “Yes, she’s coming back now you need to eat or you won't be here when she comes back.” Yuji sniffled with a wobbly lip. “Wan noodles” Sukuna huffed hoping he wouldn’t have to eat noodles every day you were gone just to appease the boy, “then you’ll get noodles, but you will eat them all.”

They sat at the large table, Sukuna wasn’t eating but rather watching Yuji. How the boy kept pathetically using his hashi and dropping noodles. Until he gave up and out them down only to use the broth spoon to burn himself with the liquid before spitting it out. Sukuna was amassed but intervened when Yuji threw the spoon down aggravated, “I hate it.”

“What’s wrong now?” “Mommy always helps me with my hashi and blows on my spoon…” he looked up at his father with a desperate pleading look, Sukuna swallowed and pulled Yuji’s chair closer to his side along with his bowl of noodles, “Fine.” Yuji perked up with a little laugh “eheh.”

Yuji was busy the rest of the day following his dad and playing his own little games to remember why he was crying. That was until night time came and you weren’t there to tuck him in. He laid on your side of the bed, it was so cold without you there. There was so much space. He let out silent tears and the occasional sniffle until Sukuna finally came into the room. It was past the time you would lay Yuji down so he expected him to be asleep already. It wasn’t shocking to see him crying considering you would be there with him wrestling him down to bed while he persisted he should be with his daddy. So Sukuna laid down pulling Yuji into his side, Yuji hurried his face against his dads side holding on tight, it made Sukuna’s heart waver in a way, ‘he makes it feel as if she’s dead..’ His hand ran up and down Yuji’s small back, mumbling a story until Yuji fell asleep in his hold.

The next day was just as bad, and so was the third. During the day he was fine, until tea time came along and you weren’t there to receive him, he’d run back crying to his dad, and even when Sukuna ordered to have a tea table set up the way you would it never pleased Yuji, the teapot would just sit there full, getting cold. The sweets weren’t as sweet and the sun wasn’t the same sun that kept him warm while he slept in your lap.

The week passed, and finally one morning Sukuna woke up with Yuji drooling on his arm. He still cried himself to sleep, missing you and calling out for you. He yawned, getting a weird smell and leaned down sniffing before he understood, Yuji was the source of the smell, his smelly brat. Yuji yawned slowly, pushing himself up, and looking around before falling down against his fathers arm to sleep again. Sukuna let him sleep a little longer so he could sleep a little longer also.

Finally it was mid day when he woke up yawning again and then he woke up stretching, his bones popping as he sat up. Yuji let out a yawn/scream while he stretched trying to mimic the sound his father made when he stretched. Sukuna sat there for a minute, “You need a bath.” Yuji looked at his dad in disbelief, “No!”

That’s how Sukuna ended up sitting on a stool, sleeves tied back, watching Yuji pout at him with sad eyes, “T’s cold..” “URAUME BRING HOT WATER DAMN IT” there went Uraume in a rush to keep Lord Sukuna from becoming upset. Sukuna kept scrubbing Yuji down, who kept whining when Sukuna would move his head around to get him cleaned up. Finally Uraume came back with water that was hot enough the young prince wouldn’t complain. “Tank you ‘ume” Yuji didn’t look at Uraume, instead kicking over the cold water bucket from his smaller stool.

Uraume stifled a snicker, “It’ll be a long few weeks Yuji, but you’ll live.” Yuji hummed, swinging his feet, “yeah I know.”

The day passed slowly after Sukuna wrapped Yuji in clean clothes and sat him out under the sun to dry and warm up. He was busy with his devices during the day leaving the boy to follow him around or play with his own things in his room. Night came quickly and it was no surprise to find Yuji in his room passed out on the bed again. Sukuna did his best to gently move him over only for Yuji to wake up and take hold of his arm.

He was woken up in the middle of the night by Yuji crying “don’t leave me too.” He was holding on tight to his chest and crying, snot dripping onto his chest while he tried to calm him down. “What is now?” He was too disoriented to process what was happening until Yuji started crying harder and trying to explain what happened in his dream. His dad left him in the middle of the night saying he was useless and didn’t love him anymore. And that he was leaving like his mother had. Sukuna was confused, but held him close, rubbing his back, “shh shh shh, I’m not leaving, forget your silly little dreams. I've told you before, that as long as I live I will be here with you.” Yuji sniffled, his tears drying up, and he held on tight to his dad, nodding his head forcing his eyes closed.

Which led to Yuji clinging to Sukuna’s arm that morning, and all day. It was funny to see the “King of Curses” With his arms crossed over his chest and Yuji just hanging there. It was a sight when Sukuan was speaking, making hand motions just to see Yuji being shaken around unintentionally with ease.

The only downside to this was that it lasted all week, meaning in battle Sukuna would take a strong hold of Yuji bringing him to eye level or holding him up higher to assure he was there or constantly in line of sight and out of harm's way.

It had been a long two weeks… “what of another week?” Yuji stood on his dad’s back while he laid face down on his bed, “‘m tall.”

The third week passed slowly with a mix of emotions, Yuji still cried for you at night but would fall asleep faster once his dad would start to smother him into his side. Then the day came when Sukuna needed to tend to business but knowing he couldn’t leave Yuji he took him along. It just happened to be within the hour you made it home. You didn’t expect a greeting party but it was best this way, at least you could actually find a way to rest before having to face Sukuna and tell him everything and how your parents were pushing for you to have a wedding ceremony in your family home.

”Lady y/n! You’ve returned,” Your lady in waiting bowed to you, “Lord Sukuna and the Prince just left. Do you require assistance?” You waved her off, “I’d really just like to sit down with a cup of tea please.” She gave you a soft smile as you followed her through the house and outside. Your little tea table was set up, “I knew you would return today I just hadn’t known when, rest and I’ll steep some tea.” She bowed when you nodded with a smile, “Thank you very much.”

You sat on the cushion feeling relief in your feet as you slipped your shoes off. The sun felt warm and comfortable under the plum blossoms, unlike the cursed heat of your family’s home where they refused to have more than just a few trees. The breeze was soothing as you reclined back against the base of the tree. The smile on your face was soft, thinking about your sister’s wedding. It was chaotic, everyone was happy despite the threat of the wedding being cancelled twice. The comments of how you should’ve married someone so you could also have a wedding in your family home, but now you had decided to go off and marry a curse and live secluded. The comments didn’t bother you, rolling your eyes and always answering with crude comments to match their own.

You laughed to yourself shaking your head as your lady in waiting returned. You talked with her sipping tea, until she left you to sit in peace. You sat there for another hour getting ready to get up and wait for your husbands return until you heard the scream “MMmmoommmmyyyy!!!” You saw a glimpse of his teary eyes and snotty nose when he hugged your legs rubbing his face into the bright red fabric of your robes. You looked down at him, rubbing a hand on his back and the other through his hair, “aw, did my little Yuji miss me?” You looked up at Sukuna who looked visibly relieved, you didn’t miss the faint smile on his lips. Looking back at Yuji he was holding his arms up, you squatted to pick him up and he hugged your neck. Laying his head on your shoulder he sniffled when you placed your hand on the back of his head kissing his forehead whispering to him and he smiled, “missed you mommy.” He turned his head quickly burying his face against your shoulder. You didn’t stop rubbing your hand up and down his back while you carried him in. He didn’t move his face from your shoulder after becoming embarrassed when Sukuna began to tell you everything that happened while you were away.

That night Yuji didn’t let you go, he stuck to your side all night wanting to feel you hugging him again. You weren’t away but Sukuna was aware how frequently Yuji would wake up, his little chubby hand reaching up to just graze your face before he’d yawn and curl up against you to sleep again. He wanted to make sure you were really there with them.

Tag List: soft tag are now called squishy babies :p

@sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd

@simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @cyder-puff

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[makethemmilky]

It was the end of May, and the first truly good beach weekend of the year. That was perfect timing for you, because at 8.5 months pregnant it was probably going to be your and only chance to hit the beach before your little bundle of joy arrived. Your wonderful husband had loaded up the car, and then superstar that he was, had dropped you off for some solo beach time while he took the rest of your little ones for a playdate with their cousins. This had become a little tradition of yours, and he was more than happy to give you the little break you deserved.

Once upon a time you had been modest about showing off your transformed body too much in public, but those days were long past. For this excursion you had deliberately crammed yourself into a bikini at the very frontier of respectability, your tiny bottoms stretched scandalously tight over an ass and hips that had gained way too many inches to be covered properly anymore, and the undersized top doing nothing to stop the wobbling of your milk-filled boobs as you strolled along the sand. But more than anything, it was your bump that was most prominently displayed, and you felt all eyes being drawn to it as you slowly waddled up and down the beach looking for the right spot to put down your chair and towel. As a mom of four already you had learned the hard way to avoid being pregnant during the hottest months of the year, but still, all of these shocked/envious/lustful gazes definitely made you fantasize about getting this kind of attention all summer long.

For a while you're content to just sit back in your comfy chair and sip your iced tea while you soak in the sun's gentle warmth against your heavy body. At this point, when you're at your biggest, you are now constantly aware of the size and weight you've become, and it feels delightful to just experience the caress of sun and sea breeze against all of your curves. Through your sunglasses you stare at the beautiful ocean, the perfect blue of the sky, and of course, do a bit of people watching as well. There are plenty of handsome men here, and more than a few women, and the sight of them all is a reminder that you didn't need of how your preggo hormones make you most horny in your final trimester. You make a mental note to mention this to hubby as servicing those needs later tonight.

And then, you see her.

She was young, definitely only in the first couple years of university. You hadn't initially paid attention to her because she'd been lying on her back getting a tan, one more blonde in a pack of college girls taking a post-finals trip to celebrate. But when a group of them, including her, got up to wade into the ocean, your eyes immediately spotted it. Her midsection had a bulge to it, for now still only slightly out of place on her slender frame, but unmistakable to you. You could tell by the ever-so-slight waddle and the way she was unconsciously adjusting her bikini bottom as she moved. Four months along, four and a half at the most, you're certain of it.

For the next 20 minutes you watch as the group of girls goof around in the ocean, their laughter and shouts audible even from your beach chair. But she's not enjoying herself as much, and you can spot the forced nature of her smile. You didn't know the full story and you never will, but you know enough. As you stare at her through your sunglasses, you remember your first pregnancy and how awkward you'd felt before you'd understood the joys and fulfillment in growing life inside of you.

Well, today's her lucky day, you think. Your nipples are poking through the flimsy bikini material at just the thought.

You wait until the girls are done swimming, and your new friend is making her way towards one of the beach showers to wash off sand. With a heave, you pull your heavy frame out of your chair and follow up in hot, but slow, pursuit. At the shower station her back is to you, giving you the element of surprise.

"Oh my! It''s almost too hot out here for me today!" you say. The girl wheels, eyes widening at she takes in how much of you there is. You smile confidently; your instincts were right.

"But it's worth it to be in the water, you know? Being out there really takes the weight off my back," you continue.

"Um, yeah," the girl says, awkwardly. You pay her no mind.

"Right now you're still pretty small so you probably don't need to worry about that. But by the end of the summer…you definitely will want to be floating out there a lot."

Her eyes drop to her slight bump, her face a look of confusion and disappointment. She' upset that you were able to notice. But you also notice that her hands instinctively drop to touch the bump; another good sign.

"Is this your first one?" you asked. She nods.

"Congratulations! You're positively glowing, my dear."

"Thanks, I guess," she replied.

"I mean it!" you continue, stepping closer, your huge dome only inches from her slight bump. "Pregnancy really suits you. Your husband must be thrilled."

"Uh, boyfriend, actually. And it was kind of unplanned, you know?"

"Oh sweetie! Don't you worry about that. I remember my first time, I was barely older than you are now. I promise you'll be just fine! Being a mom is the best, I promise you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely! Why do you think I'm almost done with my fifth here?" you say, rubbing your midsection for emphasis.

"Wow, five kids!" she says, her expression starting to soften a bit. "I can't imagine going through this five times."

"That's funny, I said the same thing! And now look at me. Trust me, once you get a bit bigger, you'll start to understand."

"Understand what?"

"How good it feels to be pregnant. To be able to grow a life inside you. It makes me feel so powerful. Like a fertility goddess."

The girl is giving you an odd look, so you decide to escalate a bit.

"Can you feel any kicking yet?" you ask. The girl shakes her head. "Well, come here then" you say, and grab her hand. Before she can respond, it's pressed firmly against the side of your massive belly. Her eyes light up in exhilaration.

"Is that what it really feels like?"

"Yes! But somehow it feels even better when it's inside you. I can't quite explain it, but you'll understand soon enough."

"Thanks,"the girl says. "Actually I'm glad to hear that. This has all been kind of stressful. My friends have been trying to cheer me up, but they don't really understand." You notice that her hand still hasn't left your bump.

"Of course they don't, they're e still girls, and you're a woman now. You've moved onto a bigger and better stage of your life."

"i've actually been feeling that recently. Like they don't know what I'm going through, or how important it is."

"Like what? Once you've been pregnant with a whole basketball team like I have, you've seen and done it all."

"I'm sure it's nothing interesting for you. Just stuff like gaining weight, eating a lot, feeling my body change, you know."

"Of course I know! But just remember, all of this is happening for a very good reason. You're growing a life inside of you! That's a beautiful thing, and it makes you beautiful!"

"I don't feel beautiful," she replies, a sad look on her face.

"Nonsense! You're fucking gorgeous," you smile. "I meant what I said before, you're glowing and pregnancy really does suit you. I bet your boyfriend is all over you!"

The girl blushes and smiles awkwardly. "Actually, kind of! He says he loves how big my boobs are getting. But…I'm um, kind of too much for him. Like I wear him out and he falls asleep and I still want more. My gosh! I can't t believe I said that!"

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me! My husband is wonderful, but at this point he knows he can't keep up with me when I'm this big. There's s no shame in getting some extra help, mechanical or otherwise."

The girl's eyes suddenly get very wide." "What do you mean by 'otherwise'" she asks, quietly.

You take one last step closer, and now your bumps are at last touching. For a long moment you say nothing, and then you reach out to take the younger girl's arm. With a gentle tug, you pull her towards an empty changing room.

"Here, let me show you."

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

"Mommy didn't give you permission to touch yourself, now did I?"

Sugar Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: 500 follower celebration! Thank you so much lol I appreciate the love and support towards my stories!!

CW: magic sex, belly bulge, rough sex, punishment, oral, pussy slapping, overstimulation, use of mommy kink, tentacle-ish, enchanted strap, this is very smutty basically think of absolute filth, aftercare at the end

The response to your needy question is downright cruel.

No.

A simple one worded response that carries significant weight. You huff, brows furrowed, an angry gaze on the screen. Fingers tap against the screen quickly.

Please?

You wait for the other person to respond, eyes focused on the chat bubble that appeared. Your heart thumps against your chest, body exploding in heat and excitement. You expected the response you were hoping for, only to be disappointed once more.

I said no, love. You can wait.

You groan, the ache between your thighs ruthless and painful. Velvet heat leaking arousal, clit throbbing and poking out from between your glistening folds. The bundle of nerves rubs against your folds and you whimper, fighting the urge to reach down and rub yourself. You lay on the bed, naked, shaking legs spread wide open. You're desperate for relief. Huffing out breaths, face hot and body exploding with heat. Desire is brewing within you, begging for you to give to what it wants. Your fingers twitch, ready at a moment's notice to dive between your folds and pump in and out of your fluttering slit. Except you were told no.

Okay, Mommy. Come home soon.

Don't worry baby. I will. Keep that pretty cunt waiting for me.

You shut off your phone and slam it against the nightstand, rubbing your hands against your face. Your pussy sobs, practically begging for you to play with her. But you can't, because Wanda told you to wait. She'll be home soon to help bring you relief. You lay on your side, rubbing your thighs together, the friction barely there. You close your eyes, keeping your mind off your wet core, but your arm brushes against an erect nipple and it sends a shiver down your spine.

The simplest touch is enough for you to squirm, the fluttering of your leaking hole forcing you to bite back a whimper. Sensitive to the touch, gooseflesh trailing up your arms. Huffing out short breaths, chest heaving. The room is sweltering hot. Sweat coats your body. You're struggling, clearly, to focus on other things than how drenched your aching core is.

You continue to rub your thighs together, your hand massaging your breast, and you bite down on your lip, heat pooling in your stomach. Oh, how great it'll be to rub circles into your pulsing clit. To reach into the nightstand and shove a vibrator deep within yourself. Dirty thoughts fill your mind of the many things you could do to yourself. Hump a pillow. Bounce on a dildo. Perhaps run into the shower and hold the shower head against your cunt while it shoots water.

Remember, Wanda explicitly told you no. Once she gives you a firm order, that's it. No changing her mind or begging her to give in. Wanda herself is wanting to please you. She said she'll be home to take care of you. Just wait.

You're trying desperately to fight off the urge to touch yourself, but when you spread your thighs, they're cover in slick.

You sit up and spread yourself open, whimpering. You're soaking wet, clit neglected and throbbing heavily in vengeance. Heat engulfs your shivering body, sweat beading along your firey flesh. So wet. So desperate to be relieved. You trace a finger over your folds, shivering from the warm fluids that gush out of your hole from the motion.

Well...if you made yourself cum once, she won't know. It doesn't hurt to touch yourself in secret. You just need to hurry before she comes back home, which is soon.

Because if Wanda returned home during the moment you're relieving yourself, you'll be in big trouble.

You lay back and spread your legs open, slipping two fingers into yourself. They go in with ease, a wet shliiick emitting from your sopping wet cunt. Easily you're knuckle deep, gummy walls constricting around your fingers. You moan, the ache subsiding and replaced with tremendous pleasure.

This is what you needed.

The relief.

You pump your fingers in and out of your heat, back arched off the bed, raspy moans escaping your swollen lips. As you please yourself, you think about Wanda. Your sugar mommy. You picture her standing above you, grinding her pussy against yours, her head against her shoulders as her melodic, wanton moans fill the room. You pick up the pace of your fingers, thumb rubbing circles onto your clit.

"M-Mommy," you pant, picturing her hands gripping your hips in a bruising grip as she buries her thick strap deep into your cunt. The same strap that kisses your cervix, begging to enter deeper. You imagine that scenario, your pussy squirting at the thought of it. You cry out in pleasure, thinking of how hard she's pounding into your with her giant cock and how every thrust sends stars into your vision. "Oh, mommy, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"

Wanda is obliterating your cunt, the girthy strap rubbing against your clit. You cry out in pleasure, begging for her to show you no mercy. She pins your arms against your back and props one leg onto the mattress, drilling deeper and harder into your puffy sex. God, you need her.

While you're too busy getting yourself off, you didn't notice the flash of red appear in the room. Didn't notice Wanda, in her superhero suit, standing in the middle of the room, in front of the bed, watching in surprise at you finger fucking yourself. She shakes off the momentary shock before sauntering to the edge of the bed, hands on the bed frame, eyes on you as you finger yourself and whine 'mommy'.

She's smirking, one brow raised, wondering how much longer it'll take for you to notice she's back home. She rocks back and forth on her feet, unable to believe-yet able to-that you disobeyed her. She was eager to return home and fuck you, perhaps rewarding you for waiting patiently for her, yet here you are, being a bad girl.

Wanda eyes your two fingers buried deep in your weeping cunt, amused at how you're barely able to handle two of your own fingers when you've taken her fat cock perfectly fine. It's cute, really, and pathetic. A weak stream of cream shoots out of your cunt and she laughs airily, shaking her head.

"Poor baby, can't even get yourself to squirt properly," Wanda said with the click of her tongue.

Hearing her voice snaps you back to reality. You freeze, cunt squeezing around your fingers, and you lift your head up, wishing what you heard was your imagination. Yet there she was, standing at the foot of the bed staring at you. Her dark, heated gaze sends a shiver down your spine and you slowly pull your fingers out of yourself, gulping.

"I, um-"

"Mommy didn't give you permission to touch yourself, now did I?" she asks cooly, walking around the bed and sitting beside you. You attempt to sit up, but she places a hand on your chest and pushes you back down. "Well?"

A look of shame appears on your face and you're unable to meet her eye. "I couldn't help myself, mommy. I-I needed to relieve myself, and you said no-"

"Exactly," she said, cutting you clean off. Her playful expression melts away and she's stern, her fingers thrumming against your flushed chest. "I told you no, to wait for me, and what did you do?"

Pure hot shame burns into your cheeks now, words dying on the tip of your tongue. You stutter our your words and curse silently to yourself, hating that you're unable to speak. You're hoping she'll drop the question, except she places two fingers beneath your chin and forces you to meet her gaze, a brow raised. She's not going to repeat herself. She'll stare long enough until you break, and break you do.

"Mommy, I was so horny, I couldn't help it!" you defend yourself, and you're able to hear how pathetic you sound. You should be embarrassed by yourself, yet you continue to plead your case instead of apologizing for disobeying. "You were out at work and I needed to feel good and-"

"Baby, I didn't ask for excuses," she chides, standing up. She places her hands on her hips, eyeing your naked body. Her intense gaze sends goosebumps up your arms and you whimper involuntarily, pussy letting out a gush of fluids. Her silky curly hair brushes against the sides of her face while she shakes her head, clicking her fingers and a flash of red appears, her suit gone; leaving her standing naked in front of you.

The mere sight of her left your breathless. No longer is she trapping her soft, muscular body in her red suit. Your eyes gaze over the expanse of her olive brown skin, noting the muscles she's built up in her arms and back. Her plush thighs and rounded hips. She shakes her head and rubs the back of her neck, curls of brown hair bouncing by her movements. She twists her body to stretch and you indulge on her backside, biting down on your lip at the sight of her shapely ass.

Wanda sighs in relief, eyes half lidded and expression relaxed. It's nice to be free from a skin tight suit. She notices your awed expression and her lips curl into a small smile, green eyes brewing with desire. She grabs your ankle and pulls you down to the edge of the bed, caressing your inner thigh. "Remind me of what'll happen if you broke the most important rule," she demands, voice thick and dripping with lust. The most important rule was no touching yourself without permission, of course.

A rule that you knew and still disobeyed.

You shudder out a breath, body exploding in tingles and heat. "Punishment," you whisper, jumping when she lightly slaps your thigh. "I-I receive a punishment from mommy."

Wanda grins, nodding her head in confirmation. "That's right, baby, because you've been a naughty girl for mommy and mommy needs to punish you." She then softens, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "What's the safe word?" she whispers into your ear, her hand holding yours.

You smile, turning your head to nuzzle your nose against her cheek. "Red," you say, squeezing her hand affectionately.

"When can you use the safe word?"

"At any time."

"Good," she said, planting a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. "Just wanted to make sure you remember." If you felt pain, or were tired, or simply wanted to stop, you'll say the safe word and she'll stop. Doesn't matter if it's just starting or in the middle of sex. It's important that both parties are having fun.

Wanda sinks back into her dominant role, eyes flashing red. She reaches out a hand, the tips of her fingers sparking, and suddenly your arms are restrained above your head and your legs spread wide apart by tendrils of red. She licks her lips at the sight of you, trembling and helpless and soaking.

"Such a naughty, dirty girl," Wanda coos, her fingers trailing up and down your leg. "I wonder how I put up with you." She sits on her knees on top the mattress, close to you, and you couldn't help but stare at her pussy. You lick your lips, seeing that you're not the only one with a sopping wet cunt. Wanda notices where your gaze is and she laughs breathlessly. "You want a taste of mommy's cunt?"

You nod your head, eyes on her pussy. "Yes, please," you say almost too eagerly, and she clicks her tongue, reaching over to tap her finger on your chin.

"Do you think you deserve to eat mommy out? After doing what you did?"

"Well...mommy, please, maybe I can make you feel good and you can make me wait," you offer as a compromise.

"Oh, so you're deciding the punishment now?" she asks, raising her brow at you sternly. She'll admit, it's tempted to do it. To ride your tongue and leaving your leaking pussy aching. Hell, her cunt throbs at the thought of it, but ultimately, you're not in charge of deciding your punishment.

Before you would say anything, Wanda slips her thumb into your wet, warm mouth, causing you to whimper. You didn't hesitate to suck nosily on it. You swirl your tongue around her thumb and suction your lips, moaning, and she knows you're trying to get into her good graces. Wanda knows how much of an effect her pussy has on you, but did you really think she was going to let you have your way?

"Does you want something to suck on?" she purrs, pressing her thumb against your tongue.

A shiver runs down your spine, half-lidded eyes on her sultry face. You nod your head, moaning around her thumb. She removes her thumb and you expected her to shove her breast into your mouth, but a red tendril hovers above your mouth.

"I think this will do the job," she says, arms crossed over her chest. Droplets of substance leaks onto your face, the liquid warm and pleasant smelling. "They're a aphrodisiac, the liquid. Meant to increase your sexual desires," she explains. "Tastes really good, too." She says as if she's tried it before.

You stare up at the leaking red tendril, heart beating. The tendril doesn't move an inch but it pulses with life, light pink droplets continuing to spill onto your face. Delicious, Wanda claims. You peer over at the woman, who sits leisurely on her hip, legs tucked behind her, curly hair draped over her shoulder. She's humming quietly, green eyes focused on your expression and body language, her lips curved into a smile. She waits for you, of course, to give the go ahead. The lust burning in her eyes has your stomach doing a somersault, slit fluttering.

And you'll admit, it's definitely piqued your interest, this red tendril. This is the only tendril glistening, as the others holding you down are dry yet smooth and soft. You lean up to kitten lick the tip and whatever it's wet with melts onto your taste buds. Oh, it's heavenly. Sweet and smooth, the taste leaving you craving more.

"I like it," you gasp, licking up and down the tendril. Liquid fire courses through your veins, heat pulsing throughout your body. Your stomach twists and twitches, your hips shuddering. "I want it," you confirm, leaning back and opening your mouth. Saliva connects your lips together, tongue reaching out to lick it up.

Wanda caresses your trembling stomach. "That's my good girl."

The tendril pumps into your mouth and you moan, squirming against the mattress. The substance fills your mouth and you swallow it all, gasping, tongue swirling around the tendril. Swallowing the liquids causes the fires of pleasure to burst into untamable flames. Your flushed skin heats up tenfold, nipples erect and sensitive, sopping wet pussy gushing out arousal and clit throbbing out between your folds.

You moan around the tendril, arms and legs squirming in their restraints, breasts bouncing as your body jolts.

God, you're on fire and your cunt is aching. You whine, gasping for air when the tendril pulls back momentarily.

"M-Mommy, I'm so hot," you complain, trying to look over at Wanda, yet the tendril shoves itself back into your mouth, thrusting.

Wanda chuckles softly, the tips of her fingers gliding over your plush thighs. The slight contact is enough to get your back arched off the bed, fluids sprinkling out of your trembling pussy.

"So needy," Wanda teases, settling herself on her knees. Both hands now caress your thighs and a muffled moan emits from you, eyes fluttering shut. You suck on the tendril, swallowing it's sickly sweet substance that enhances your senses. You gasp when you feel two more squeeze your breasts, their tips rolling your nipples in painfully slow circles. The toying of your breasts adds onto the stimulation and you shudder, chest heaving.

Wanda places two fingers on your pussy lips and spreads you open with a wet 'shliick', teeth biting down on her bottom lip at the glorious sight: slit leaking and fluttering, clit pulsing, desperate to be touched, and when she spreads you open further, she catches a glimpse of your gummy walls, watching as they clamp around air.

She moans at the sight, fighting back the urge to bury her face deep into your pussy. "Mm, dirty dirty girl," she laughs breathlessly, licking her lips. She squeezes your filthy cunt in her hand and you whine, squirming against her hand. "Mommy is going to give you a few spankings, and you're going to take them like the naughty girl you are."

Wanda removes her hand, your sticky fluids connecting her palm to your glistening folds. She tongues the inside of her check, bringing her palm up to her face to observe the secretions you left behind.

"Dirty little whore."

With that being said, she lands a gentle yet firm smack against your filthy cunt, arousal sprinkling everywhere.

A muffled yelp emits from you, body squirming. Wanda smacks your sopping wet pussy once more and she muses over how puffy your dirty cunt becomes.

Two red tendrils begin to massage your body, pressing against your waist and smoothing over your stomach. You moan from the added stimulation, body sweltering in heat, tingling all over.

Wanda continues to spank your heat, eating up your muffled cries and moans. She's not harsh, but the stinging pain is there. A wonderful feeling added to the throbbing of your clit and fluttering hole.

She licks her hand and lands one more blow onto your cunt, nearly jumping in surprise when your pussy squirts.

"Dirty girl...you love it when mommy spanks your pussy, hm?"

Her green eyes trail up your body when you don't immediately respond and see you've lost yourself in sucking the tendril off, eyes rolled to the back of your head. A mixture of spit and the substance coats your chin and cheeks, neck and the top of your chest covered in the mixture.

Wanda shakes her head, clicking her fingers. The tendril pulls out and disappears now that it's completed it's job. "Look at the mess you made," she playfully chides, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at her. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

You mumble something and she quirks a brow. "Hm? What was that?"

"Sit on my face," you huff out, more clearly now. You lick your lips, staring at her with such intensity it sends a shiver down her spine. "Mommy, please, I w-want to taste you. I'm so hungry for you." Wanda hears the desperation in your voice. The burning desire. Your hands clench, and she knows if it weren't for the tendrils restraining you, she'll be on her back and your hands pushing against her plush thighs, tongue eagerly lapping up her juices.

You drop your eyes down to her cunt and lick your lips slowly and delicately, which allows her the brief indulgence of picturing your tongue doing the exact thing to her dripping pussy. She rolls her bottom lip between her incisors- she'll never deny that you're amazing at giving head. You're practically eating her out nearly all the time.

She pretends to consider your request, tapping her finger against her chin. This is a punishment, not a reward. You've done something you weren't supposed to, and need to be a taught a lesson for being a naughty.

Which is why she lights up with an idea.

Wanda kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling when you try to chase after her lips with your own. "You want to eat mommy's pussy that badly, hm?"

You nod your head fervently, practically drooling at the thought of devouring her delectable cunt. "Yes! Oh, yes, please," you beg oh so pathetically, the most delicious submissive expression on your heated face. "Please, please let me make you feel good, mommy."

Wanda blows air against your neck and you gasp lightly, chest rubbing against hers.

"You're adorable when you beg, my love," Wanda sensually says, placing her knees on either side of your head, her wet pussy in perfect view. Your breath quickens, eagerly awaiting for her to plant herself right on your mouth. "Except naughty girls don't get what they want."

Wanda hovers above your face and begins to finger herself. She pumps two fingers in and out of her slit, head falling back on her shoulders. Her sweat covered body trembles as she pleases herself, wanton moans spilling from her lips.

You watch her fingers burrow themselves deep into her velvet heat, wet squelches emitting from the motion. You whine in protest, brows furrowed, and attempt to lean up to lick her clit, except a red tendril wraps around your throat and pulls you back, preventing you from tasting her.

"Mommy, mommy please," you plead with her, squirming exceptionally hard against the restraints. "Sit on my face! Let me make you feel good!"

Wanda ignores your pretty pleas, too focused on the way her joints brush along her g-spot and her knuckles repeatedly bumping against her throbbing clit. Heat engulfs her body and she chokes on a moan, hips stuttering. Sweet nectar drips onto your face and you desperately catch every drop, wishing her cunt was suffocating you at this very moment.

Instead you're forced to watch Wanda please herself, her pretty moans echoing in the room. She's cruel for this. While you lay restrained, she's bouncing on her fingers, leaking all over your face. You ache for her to ride your tongue, but all you can do is watch this wonderful yet cruel show.

"Yes! Yes!" Wanda keened, hunched in on herself. "Feels so good! So good! Ah!" Soon she's squirting all over your face with a loud scream, and you're attempting to catch every drop of her fluids, not daring to let any to go to waste. She sits back on your stomach, catching her breath.

You lick your lips, frowning. "Mommy," you mumble, squirming. "You're mean to me."

She laughs at your claim, shaking her head. "Oh, am I mean?" she teases, gently caressing her folds and satisfied at the neediness brewing up in you. "Well, maybe you should've thought of that before disobeying mommy, hm?" She sits up and brushes her knuckles along your cheek, green eyes gleaming with mischief. "I was very disappointed to see that." And aroused, too, of course.

Shame burns into your cheeks again and you look away, lips pursed. "I-I couldn't wait any long, mommy," you defend. "I was...thinking about you. Thinking about the things you could do to me."

Wanda hums in response to that, recalling your pretty moans and whimpers of 'mommy'. She begins to kiss your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. "Tell mommy every naughty thought you had," she murmurs, licking over a vein. "Mommy wants to know how dirty her girl is."

A tremor runs through your body and you gasp, arching your breast up into your mouth as she sucks on a nipple. You breath heavily, gulping, unsure how to bring up the imagery of Wanda pounding your pussy into oblivious. It's embarrassing to admit out loud what you were thinking, which is exactly what Wanda wants.

She swirls her tongue around your belly button, smirking at your breathless gasps. "Well?" she asks, voice husky in desire. She's hovering above your weeping cunt, half hooded eyes trained on your face. "Aren't you going to tell mommy your dirty thoughts?" She licks a stripe up your pussy and you cry out, hole fluttering and gushing out fluids. "Tell mommy every naught thought you had while mommy eats you out..."

Her lips attach to your damp pussy, a moan eliciting from the both of you. Her tongue laps over your leaking slit, sweet juices melting onto her taste buds heavenly.

You tell her every dirty thought you had of her while her tongue pumps into your pussy. With a strained voice, you moan about her thrusting into you with the big strap on, the one with ridges, pinning you down and completely obliterating you. Drool trickles down your chin, breasts bouncing with your movements. She's devouring your pussy as if this were her final meal; sucking on your bundle of nerves, spreading your lips and mouthing at your hole, licking all over your dirty cunt before burying her face back into it.

Your filthy cunt is a mess of fluids and saliva, clit pulsating and hole clenched around her tongue. Your wanton moans fill the room, your jumps and thrashing causing the bed to creak.

Wanda isn't holding back.

She's sloppily eating you out, fingers pressed into your plush thighs. She opens her eyes half-way to stare up at you, laughing breathily at your wanton expression. You might enjoy eating her out, but she believes she takes the cake for pussy eating.

Pretty cunt squirming against her mouth, clit jumping every time she swirls her tongue around it. She takes note of your wetness and how you're practically squirting the entire time. Your moans and squeals spur her on and even after you cum, she can't stop. She's not sure if she's able to physically remove herself off your delectable pussy that beckons for her to devour.

You heave out a gasp, back inches off the bed as her lips wrap around your clit for what seems like the millionth time and sucks harshly. Your poor bundle of nerves throbs pathetically, over stimulation wracking through it. Your puffy sex is weeping, every lick and suck and kiss causing you to jerk and cry out.

"M-Mommy! Too much! It's too much!" you mewl, struggling against your restraints.

All Wanda has to do is place a hand on your belly and warmth spreads through your veins, the over stimulation disappearing. It's as if she's eating you out for the first time tonight and your eyes roll back, tongue slipping out to coat your chin in spit.

"Mommy's finished when she's finished," Wanda mumbled from between your folds, fixing at sultry gaze on your flushed face. "Unless you don't like mommy eating you out?" She does the worst thing possible and moves her mouth off your soaking cunt and you shake your head.

"No! No don't stop!"

"Mmm, that's what I thought," she purrs right before plopping her mouth right back on your puffy sex.

The world spins as she devours you over and over again, using her magic to reset your pussy. The pleasure is endless and you're greedy for it. You don't want it to end. You want her all to yourself and to never stop licking your pussy.

However, after your eight orgasm, she doesn't soothe you again. She lets you feel the over stimulation, pussy throbbing against your mouth and you screaming at the top of your lungs. God, it's heavenly, though. The feeling of over stimulation after cumming multiple times without that exact relief afterwards. She doesn't keep eating you out after getting you to cum again.

Wanda reluctantly removes herself off your cunt, licking her lips. Half her face is coated in your delicious juices, and she allows herself the briefest moment of observing your cunt. Throbbing. Swollen. Soaking wet. Clit poking through your puffy folds and twitching. She moans at the sight and gives your poor pussy a slap.

"We'll have to do that again soon," she says, standing off the bed and stretching out her body.

You sigh out a breath, nodding in agreement. To your surprise, while Wanda slips into a strap, a red tendril brings up a glass of water to your lips. You happily accept the cold water and relief floods through your body as the cold liquid fills your body. Your heart melts a bit, because Wanda is taking care of you.

Said woman stands at the edge of the bed, wearing your favorite thick strap with the ridges. You whimper at the sight, pussy quivering. She wraps her hand around the girth and whispers something in a language you don't understand, eyes and hand glowing red. Light flashes around the dildo, causing it to throb once before settling down.

"You enchanted it?" you ask as she climbs into the bed, slicking her cock up with lube. She's extra generous with it, going as far as to pour some onto your cunt.

"Mmhmm," she says, positioning the tip at your entrance. She snaps her fingers and all the tendrils disappear, freeing you from the restraints. "I enchanted it so I'm able to feel your pretty little pussy squeezing around me." She shivers in excitement, tonguing the inside of her cheek, one brow raised. She's dying to try this.

"That's kinda cool," you chuckle, cheeks flushed as she peppers kisses into the side of your face. Her body hovers above yours, tapping your legs to have them wrap around your waist.

Her lips hover above your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I'm not going to hold back," she whispers, nibbling on your lobe. "Mommy's going to make sure you know nothing else but my cock."

She teasingly rubs her cock between your folds and you moan, legs tightening around her waist. "O-Oh, yes, mommy."

"This is your punishment for being a dirty girl and touching yourself," she purrs, tapping her cock against your clit. "Only mommy touches her dirty girl." She licks your neck and repositions herself back at your entrance, tip poking your. "You want mommy's cock, hm? Want mommy to fuck you with her big, fat cock?"

You nod desperately, bucking your hips. "Please!"

"If only you could be good like this all the time," she chuckles, and then she shoves herself in.

Her cock enters with a loud wet squelch, her girth spreading your gummy walls apart. You let out a gasp, arms immediately going to wrap around her neck for support; chest arches into hers, breasts rubbing against each other. The warmth and tightness of your cunt sends her spiraling, her mouth dropping open to choke out a moan.

"So tight," Wanda pants, rolling her hips to allow you to adjust to her size, "and you're so wet." She laughs breathlessly, face pressed against the side of your face. "Does mommy make you this way?"

She's only half-way in and god you're stuffed. "Y-Yes," you rasp, holding onto her for dear life. "Mommy makes my pussy so wet!"

She nibbles on your jawline, her hands gripping the bed sheets. "Your pussy feels sooo good," she coos, almost like she's drunk off the feeling of your dirty cunt. "Oh, mommy is going to destroy you, baby."

The moment Wanda bottoms out, she's thrusting into you, the force of your hips causing your body to rock up and down the bed. A bulge had formed in your belly, which disappears and reappears with her thrusts. Her cock drags against your velvety walls, her tip kissing your cervix.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" you scream out, head falling back against your shoulders.

Wanda captures your lips for a heated kiss, swallowing up every sinful noise you make. You kiss her back hungrily, the back of your heel bumping into her ass cheek, encouraging her further. Tongues graze against each other, swirling around the other before entering each other's mouths.

Wanda keeps herself propped up on her forearms, cock drilling deep into your puffy sex. Your filthy cunt froths on her cock, coating her cock in white cream, which she fucks back into you. Squelching noises emit from your pussy, arousal sprinkling everywhere.

You break away from the kiss to gasp for air, dropping your head back further to allow her lips to plant scorching kisses upon your neck.

"Mommy loves your pussy," she murmurs into the crook of your neck, grabbing one of your legs to hook over your shoulder. "Mommy can't get enough...oh god!"

As promised, Wanda obliterates your sloppy pussy. She puts you in all sorts of positions, but her favorite is you face down ass up, her hands on your hips and forcing you to meet her powerful thrusts.

She teases you relentlessly.

"Aww, poor baby can't handle mommy's cock?"

"Is mommy's cock too big?"

"Oh, you love mommy's cock!"

Wanda is either pressing on the stomach bulge or has you press down on it, as your pussy clamps down harder on her cock from it.

Your sinful moans bounce around the room mixed in with her own. Thanks to the enchantment on her cock, she's able to feel your velvet heat. Gummy walls clenched tightly around her girth. Pretty pussy dripping wet. Warmth enveloping her massive cock. The ridges on her cock rubs against all the right spots and you're sobbing into the mattress about how good you feel.

At this point, the two of you lost count of each other's orgasms. The pleasure and over stimulation felt too good to focus on that.

Wanda made sure to remember why it's important to obey her rules, because if you're good for her, it's simple: good girls receive rewards. What do bad girls receive? Punishment, obviously. It was clear enough when you watched her finger herself and you weren't allowed to eat her out. That was pure torture watching her heavenly pussy leak above you and you couldn't do anything about it.

And now she has you pressed into the mattress, destroying your pussy.

"Do you promise not to break any of mommy's rules?" she questioned, giving your ass a firm smack. She rolls her hips and slams her cock into you, barely giving you the chance to answer.

"Ah! I-I'll try not to, mommy!"

"That wasn't a promise."

You bite down on your lip, eyes rolled to the back of your head. You can't make a promise you're not going to keep. Not anytime soon will you break a rule, but if you want mommy to get rough with you, then what else are you to do?

Wanda clicks her tongue, chest heaving. Sweat rolls down the sides of her face and she licks sweat off her top lip, shaking her head. "You're mommy's naughty girl, hm?"

She flips you onto your back and presses your legs into your chest, her feet on either side of your hips. She thrusts deep into your abused pussy, her cock absolutely destroying you.

"It's a good thing mommy is here to put you in your place," she pants, head falling down as the warmth of your cunt is too much.

The two of you say nothing except create the beautiful melody of sinful moans. Soon, for one final time, the two of you cum together with loud screams. Wanda's body shakes and she falls onto her side, cock sliding out of you with a loud wet 'shliiick'.

Your legs drop down, twitching, and you stare up at the ceiling, desperately trying to catch your breath. Both you and Wanda stay like that for five minutes, bodies spent and covered in sweat.

Soon, she scoots over to you, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you against her. She nuzzles her nose against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss into it.

"Feeling okay?" she whispers, cupping your cheek and having you look at her.

You give her a tired smile, pressing your forehead against hers. "Never better," you mumble, capturing her lips for a quick, delicate kiss before wrapping your arms around her and cuddling her.

An hour later the two of you are showered, in t-shirts and replenished with food and water, now entangled in each other's limbs and watching a movie.

Wanda scratches at your back, laying her head against yours, and your arms and legs wrap around her, head resting on her shoulder.

"I love you, (reader)."

"I love you too, Wanda."