#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.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: jungkook is kind of an annoying jerk in the beginning, but we still love him. as of now, i have no warnings, but i will mention them when necessary as the series goes on.

A/N: hello, welcome to my very first series. i've been reading fics for as long as i can remember and i've always wanted to start a blog of my own. please read through this and let me know if this story is worth continuing <3

my blog is still "work in progress" and i have many ideas and plans that i wanna give life to, so please stay tuned. your opinions, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome.

thank you.

part 1: throttle and stem

The quiet hum of the early morning filled your flower shop as you stood by your workbench, your hands deftly arranging a vibrant bouquet of stargazer lilies, queen of the night blossoms, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. As you tied off the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, glancing at the screen.

"8:09 am."

You sighed to yourself, shaking off the early morning grogginess that still clung to your mind. The air around you was sweet with the mingling fragrances of the flowers, an invisible balm for the weariness you hadn’t quite shaken.

The shop was your sanctuary. Its walls were adorned with climbing vines that had been lovingly nurtured over the years, and its shelves were lined with terracotta pots of miniature bonsais, fiddle-leaf figs, and succulent terrariums. It wasn’t just a workspace… it was your rhythm, your peace. Here, surrounded by blooms and greenery, the world felt like it moved just a little slower.

You turned towards the bay window, where golden sunlight poured in, illuminating an assortment of hydrangeas and snapdragons on display. It was the kind of morning you cherished… peaceful, predictable, and entirely yours to savor.

Shifting closer to the window, your gaze naturally drifted to the storefront beside yours. The faded "For Rent" sign, hanging crookedly in the glass, caught your eye like always. Ever since Mrs. Lee shut down her cozy little bakery and moved away with her husband, the space had remained lifeless, the once-welcoming aroma of fresh pastries replaced by silence and dust.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you remembered the way the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls used to drift into your shop every morning. Now, the vacant building had become an eyesore you had grown used to ignoring… a dull, empty reminder of what had once been.

Turning away from the window, you wandered through your shop, watering the orchids in their clay pots and adjusting the arrangement of lavender sprigs by the counter. You opened sharp at 9, but these quiet moments before customers arrived were your favorite. It was a time to bask in the stillness, to let the beauty of your flowers fill every corner of your mind.

You settled back at your workbench, pulling another bundle of roses and eucalyptus stems from the cooler. Your hands moved automatically as your thoughts wandered, appreciating the rare silence that surrounded you. Most of the shops on your street wouldn’t open for another hour, leaving the block in a peaceful lull.

The quiet wasn’t just comforting, it was necessary. It was the space where you could breathe, think, and just be.

And just when you were basking in the silence you oh so appreciated, your train of thoughts are harshly interrupted by a sharp growl that tore through the air, so ridiculously loud that it startled you into dropping the shears you were grasping in your hand. The noise grew louder, rising and falling with an almost deafening rhythm. Engines revved outside, followed by the sharp, repetitive beeping of trucks reversing.

Frowning, you stepped towards the window, peeking out from behind a display of yellow roses. Two enormous moving trucks had pulled up in front of the vacant building, their engines rumbling as a group of workers began hauling furniture and equipment onto the sidewalk.

Your chest tightened as you took in the scene: huge wooden crates, motorcycle frames, and oversized toolboxes haphazardly scattered across the pavement.

The stillness you were treasuring just a minute ago was shattered in less than a second by the disgusting sound of chaos arriving at your doorstep.

Still confused, your eyes suddenly fall on the huge stack of oversized toolboxes placed on the sidewalk, partially blocking the entrance to your shop. You scoffed, your mind unable to wrap itself around this bizarre situation.

Before you could fully process what exactly was happening, your feet carried you towards the front door of your shop and you stepped outside, breathing heavily. “Hey!” you called out, trying to dodge around a burly man carrying a huge box labeled FRAGILE. “What’s going on here?” you question, still looking around, trying to take in the state of your surroundings.

The closest person to you wasn’t a mover or a worker. You could easily conclude that just by the way he was leaning lazily against one of the trucks, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion. A thick leather jacket, adorned with intricate patches and scratches that told untold stories rested on his left shoulder.

Tattoos crawled up his toned forearms, disappearing under the ripped sleeves of his black t-shirt. A loose silver chain around his neck glinted as he shifted his weight, and when he glanced up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

"What's going on here?" you ask again, this time trying to sound as civil as possible. Your fists are balled and you regulate your breathing as you observe the man in front of you. “Moving in.” he simply answers, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What’s it look like to you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his audacity. You're generally a calm person, that is, until someone provokes you in the weirdest ways. “It looks like you’re turning the sidewalk into an obstacle course.” you snapped, unable to remain civil like you had previously planned. “My customers won’t be able to get into my shop!” you added.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that instantly made you think, this was someone you would never get along with. “What customers?” He chuckles, glancing theatrically up and down the empty street before meeting your gaze again.

Your blood boiled as you heard him mock you. “Excuse me?” He stepped closer, the faint scent of leather and motor oil lingering in the air between you. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t get your roses in a twist.” he says, eyeing a bouquet he was able to spot through the window of your store.

You bristled. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart. Second, those are lilies, NOT roses.” You jabbed a finger towards the bouquet in the window. “And third, I don’t need your promises. I need you to move your chaos somewhere else and not disturb my business!”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “You really care about those flowers, huh?” he asks. You can easily tell he thinks nothing of your business. “Of course, I do! Unlike some people, I actually respect my work and the space around me.” you argue.

The man rolls his eyes, and that only drives you more mad. His nonchalance and his lack of empathy itches your brain the wrong way. “Whatever.” he casually shrugs, turning away as he hears one of the men call out to him. “Jeon, where do you want the bike stand?”

Jeon? You realize that's probably his surname. “Right here.” he replies, pointing towards the storefront. Without sparing you another glance, he strode over, his gait relaxed and confident, as if he hadn’t just ruined your morning.

You stood there, fists clenched, watching as the chaos unfolded further. The reality hit you hard—the quiet, vacant space beside your shop was no longer empty. It was now home to this infuriating, leather-clad biker who had just walked into your life like a hurricane. And somehow, you knew, your peaceful little flower shop would never be the same.

//

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of irritation. Every time you tried to return to your flowers and reclaim the peace you once cherished, another burst of loud noise would jolt you out of focus. The metallic clang of tools, the rumble of engines being tested, and the shouts of movers unloading endless boxes were relentless. Even the cheerful chime of your shop door opening, signaling the arrival of your first customer, couldn’t lift your mood entirely.

“Busy morning out there, huh?” Mrs. Park, one of your long-time regulars, quipped as she admired a bouquet of tulips on display. You forced a smile, standing up from your workbench. “You could say that.” you answered, looking back at the window that gave you a view of the happenings next door

She chuckled, picking up a small pot of baby succulents. “Looks like someone’s finally opening a business there. Hopefully, it’s something good and the owner is nice. I miss Mrs. Lee’s bakery, though. Her strawberry tarts were divine.” she says, walking towards the counter with the pot she had just picked out.

You bit back a sarcastic retort about how this newcomer was something way from from “nice” and nodded instead. “I miss her too. But yeah, we'll just have to wait and see what the new business is going to be about.” you sigh.

//

By the time the clock struck noon, the chaos outside had died down enough for you to risk stepping out again. Boxes had been cleared from the sidewalk, though a few crates still lingered near the entrance of your shop, their presence a glaring reminder of the morning’s disruption.

You spotted him immediately—Jeon. He was crouched next to a sleek black motorcycle, his hands busy adjusting something near the engine. A few workers milled around, chatting, but this man seemed entirely absorbed in his work.

You purse your lips and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a better view of the building. The sign "Throttle and Torque" hung up high, right beside yours that read "Garden's Grace."

You look back down at the man, who still seemed so immersed in whatever the heck he was doing. Against your better judgment, you marched over, fueled by lingering frustration. “Excuse me.” you say, waiting for him to respond. He didn’t look up. You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot impatiently. “Excuse me!” you snap.

This time, he glanced up, wiping his hands on a rag before standing to his full height. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly confident, his dark eyes glinting which barely concealed any sort amusement. “What?” he asked, completely unbothered. You gestured towards the lingering crates. “Your stuff is still blocking part of my entrance.” you reply, trying your level best to keep your voice at a respectable volume.

He glanced at the crates, then back at you. “Looks fine to me.” he shrugs. “It’s not fine. It’s in the way.” you argue, fighting the urge to just run and kick the crates away from your entrance. His lips curved into that maddening smirk again. “You’re really particular about your space, huh?”

“Unlike some people…” you pause, taking a deep breath “I respect boundaries.” you state. He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. “Alright, alright. I’ll move them. Don’t blow a gasket, sweetheart.” he says causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname but you bite your tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper again.

As he turned to call out to one of the workers, you noticed something—a small, intricately designed patch sewn onto the back of his leather jacket that he was wearing. It depicted a phoenix rising from flames, the design bold and vibrant against the black leather.

Shaking yourself out of the observation you had just made, you look around and finally question him. "What exactly is your business?"

He doesn't answer, still busy with the worker as he guides him on where to place the crates. But as you stood there by yourself, you feel the realization dawning on you as you took in the scattered parts and tools. "Is this a motorcycle shop?" you ask again. He glanced over his shoulder, finally nodding. “Custom bikes. Repairs. The works.” he answers, his tone still the same, low and unbothered.

Of course. The universe had gifted you a neighbor who was the exact opposite of everything your flower shop represented—loud, chaotic, and disruptive. “Just great.” you muttered under your breath, feeling yourself get a headache as you imagine the wild things that you will have to go through with a store like this right beside yours.

“Something to say?” he teases, as he looks at you, finally taking in your appearance. His eyes roamed over you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the effortless beauty you carried. There was something captivating about the way your long, dark hair framed your face, the sunlight catching in the waves and adding a soft halo around you. The earthy tones of your apron only highlighted the warm glow of your skin, and the faint blush on your cheeks gave you an endearing, almost ethereal charm.

You don't say anything and just stand there, trying your best to stay calm. "I'm Jungkook, by the way." you hear him say. You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to introduce yourself to him, but you think that might be a little immature. "Y/n." you simply say, avoiding his eyes.

"Didn’t realize such a pretty flower came with so many thorns." he comments, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms, observing the way you tried so hard not to throw hands. You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Didn’t realize bikers had this much trouble respecting other people’s businesses.” you retorted, matching his tone.

Jungkook chuckled, clearly unfazed. He leaned against the wall beside him, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge. “Well, sweetheart, I guess we’re stuck with each other now. Might as well get used to it.” he says, almost like he's challenging you.

You huffed at that stupid nickname again, your fingers tightening around the hem of your apron. “I would REALLY appreciate if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." you pause, slightly stepping forward. "And for the record, being neighbors doesn’t mean I have to put up with your... chaos. My shop values tranquility, something your—” you pause again to gesture towards the motorcycles and tools scattered around, “whole vibe seems to be allergic to.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to consider your words, though the teasing smirk never leaves his features. “Tranquility, huh?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “I can see why you’d like things quiet in there.” His eyes flicked toward your shop window, where the vibrant display of flowers created a stark contrast to the metal and oil-laden aesthetic of his business.

You cross your arms, as you firmly stand your ground. “Exactly. Garden’s Grace is a place where people come to find peace and beauty. Something your Throttle and Torque doesn’t exactly scream.”

He snorted, looking genuinely amused for the first time. “Peace and beauty. Cute. I’m more about the adrenaline and grit side of life. Opposites, huh?” You frowned, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Maybe opposites, but that doesn’t mean you have to make my life miserable.” you said, glancing pointedly at the workers still unloading equipment nearby.

“Alright, alright.” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my guys clear out your entrance. We wouldn’t want to scare off all those peace-seekers now, would we?” he says, in a tone that irks something ugly inside of you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to come up with something but you know it would be of no use to argue with someone like him. “Thank you.” you breathe out curtly, turning on your heel to head back to your shop, not wanting to deal with him anymore because you clearly had a business to get back to.

“By the way…” he suddenly calls out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder with a brow raised. “Those flowers in your display…” he said, jerking his chin towards the window. “Whatever they're called... they’re pretty. You’ve got an eye for detail and beauty.” he admits.

The unexpected compliment threw you off guard, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a snappy comeback. Instead, you muttered a soft, “Thanks.” before disappearing into the safety of your shop.

Inside, your heart thudded a little harder than you cared to admit. You shook your head, pushing the moment aside. “Nope, not falling for that.” you mumble to yourself, bringing your focus back on the vibrant bouquet in your hands.

From the corner of your eye, you glanced out the window one last time. Jungkook had gone back to his motorcycle, but there was a faint smile on his face now, one that didn’t carry the same teasing edge as before.

You sighed and shook your head, determined to forget the way it made your stomach flutter. "It’s just day one..." you reminded yourself. "I can survive this." you affirm.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a storm neither of you saw coming.

part 2 ->

series masterlist

[oneforthemunny]

christmas with the devil |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: even the dirty magazines are in the holiday spirit. after you and eddie stumble upon a particularly interesting magazine, you both are inspired by the spirit of the season.

apart of my munny's merriest series!

contains: minors dni smut. dom/sub themes. dom!eddie x sub!reader. spanking. spanking with implement. switching. pinv sex. a little roleplay lol? all consensual and sweet. they're kinda nerdy and i love them. eddie hates christmas, reader loves it. they're in love.

“Can you hurry up?” Your eyes cut around the abnormally crowded comic book store, chin ducking towards your chest as if all their eyes were on you.  

Bundles of teenagers, kids, parents all gathered around and looking through the stacks of Marvel issues, while you and your boyfriend trudged towards the scandalous back area. Marked off with a rope that held a sign, ‘Adults Only’ in bold print and was the vault for the more risqué magazines. 

“Relax, baby, we’re both adults.” Eddie cooed, a smirk in his tone that had your teeth gritting with annoyance. “We’ll be in and out, I promise.”  

“I don’t know why they have to make it so obvious.” You muttered, sliding past the rope and scurrying into the tiny room, filled with X-Rated magazine covers. “The rope seems like a little much.” 

Eddie snickered, his hand finding your waist, pulling you into him. “I kinda like it. Feels like they’re giving me the VIP treatment.” 

You rolled your eyes, but stayed flush against him, his chest warm on your frostbitten skin. “VIP treatment while you buy your porno magazines.” Your nail brushed over the edge of a Playboy, lifting a brow up at Eddie pointedly. 

“It’s not a porno magazine,” Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “It’s just made by Penthouse, but it’s more sci-fi than-” 

“-I know, Ed.” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temple. “You know I don’t care. I just hate coming in here.” You looked around, the dim lights and tight corners all plastered with vulgar photos. “Just feel skeezy.” 

“Skeezy?” Eddie grinned down at you. “Some of our best ideas came from this room, baby.” 

Your cheeks burned with a rush of heat, eyes cutting to the door carefully. It was true. You had many Fotoplays Magazines to thank for some of your favorite tricks in the bedroom. The countless times you and Eddie would flip through the dirty magazines, oohing and awing at the photos and stories, bookmarking pages that sparked your excitement to try later. 

“There it is.” Eddie’s chains jingled with his steps, pulling you out of your thoughts. You frowned, following his ringed hand towards the Omni Magazine cover. 

“Look at this. This looks so fuckin’ sick, doesn’t it? UFO Edition. This one’s gonna be all about aliens and shit.” Eddie grinned, bubbling with nerdy excitement you found overwhelmingly endearing. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, though you only partially heard him, your attention caught by the magazine in front of you. 

Eddie’s smile dropped, looking up at you with a furrowed brow, following your line of vision to what had captivated your attention over him. “What’d ya see, babe?” Eddie muttered, a low gravel in his tone that had you shivering. 

“What’s this?” You pointed at the cover. There on the glossy page, a goat-like demon with bat wings lifting a bundle of sticks high in the air, ready to bring them down on a woman’s bottom. Her ass stuck high up in the air, clad in lingerie, face animated with excited fear. 

“Krampus,” Eddie read, pointing at the golden cursive font below the image. “Hm, I don’t really know. Looks cool though, doesn’t he?” He grinned, nudging you playfully. 

“Looks like your little Hellfire mascot thingy.” You nodded back, picking up the magazine. 

Eddie’s brows lifted, suddenly, no longer interested in his Omni, tossing it back on the shelf, too consumed with the magazine capturing your attention. “You want to get this too?” 

“No, you don’t have to. I was just looking to see what it’s about.” You hummed, flipping through the pages until you found the cover story, an erotic retelling of the European Christmas demon. 

“Punishes those who misbehave with birch rods.” Eddie grinned, adjusting himself shamelessly behind you. His mind was racing, flooded with excited, devious ideas with every image. “Seems like you need Krampus to visit you.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Your tongue clicked, glaring at Eddie. “Why would you say that? I’ve been such a good girl this year.” 

“Psh, please,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’ve been such a bad girl.” His voice dropped,  breath tickled the shell of your ear, leaving you quaking with excitement. 

“No, I haven’t.” Your whine sounded more like a mewl, gripping the magazine so tightly the pages were creasing under your grasp. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” Eddie shrugged, pulling away from you, plucking the magazine out of your hand, tucking it under his arm with the other. “See if Krampus visits you tonight.” The wink he gave you left your tummy flipping with heat, following him to the counter on shaky legs, mind racing with excitement of what was to come. 

“Well, well, well,” You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice, booming from the doorway behind you. He’d been stowed away in his room since you got home, only telling you not to come in- that he had a surprise for you. 

“Look what we have here.” Eddie waved the rolled up paper around in his hands, grinning at you as he took slow, calculated steps closer and closer to you. 

“What’s that?” You frowned, shoving the stack of folded dish towels into the drawer. 

Eddie’s tongue rolled over the inside of his cheek, looking at you with a positively primal glare. “Looks like this year’s naughty list just came in.” Eddie sucked in a breath, shaking his head exaggeratedly. “And I’ve got some real bad news for you, babe.” 

You feigned surprise, matching his playful, dramatic tone. “No,” You gasped lightly. “Don’t tell me I’m on that list. There’s no way. I’ve been sooo good this year.”  

He could kiss you, right then and there. How easily you played along, gave right into his dramatics without question. How perfect you were for him. He’d tell you after this, later when you were curled into him, sharing soft kisses and softer touches. But for now, he had a part to play. 

“This list begs to differ,” Eddie shrugged dramatically, shaking his head, unrolling the list he’d been working on. There in gothic, cursive font was your name, listed under the intimidatingly gloomy ‘Naughty’ side.  “And unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

“This has to be a mistake. I’ve been nothing but a good girl this year. Perfect.” You quipped, stepping towards him. 

“No, this list doesn’t lie, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head, toe to toe with you now, looking at you down the slope of his nose. “You’ve been naughty this year, and you know what that means?” 

You shook your head, playing coy while your lashes batted at him. Eddie swore his heart was going to burst right out of his chest. 

“It means you’ll have to take your lashing from Krampus.” Eddie shook his head at you. 

“My lashing?” You gawked lightly, a giggle of surprise bubbling out of your chest. “I thought naughty girls got coal in their stockings.” You frowned, lip jutting in a gentle pout towards him. 

“Not around here they don’t.” Eddie grinned, a darkness to his eyes that had your heart rushing with floods of excitement. “Naughty girls around here get a visit from Krampus if they’ve been bad. They get corrected for their bad behavior.” 

“Well, I don’t want to be naughty.” You sighed heavily, really playing it up for him. You could see how much he was loving this. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to get off that list.” 

Eddie swallowed back a grin, nodding slowly instead. His footsteps fell heavy on the kitchen floor, striding over towards the stove, pulling the designated junk drawer open for the cutting pliers. You squirmed under his intense gaze when he brought them back, handing them to you, neither one of you breaking eye contact from the other. 

“Go get me eight good ones from the tree in the front, alright? Make ‘em good ones.” Eddie nodded at you. 

Your legs felt like they might give out slipping on your boots, wrapping Eddie’s jacket around you, climbing down the creaking steps of the trailer. It was cold out, everything dried and dead for the winter- it made the perfect time to pick a switch. 

Eddie watched from the doorway, fingers drumming with excitement taking in every branch you’d pick. How you’d examine it carefully before tossing it to the side or adding it to the collection in your hand. It consumed him with excitement, cock throbbing with exhilaration. 

“Will these do?” You held the branches towards him, after what felt like an eternity, standing on the steps, waiting for his approval. 

Eddie carefully looked at each one, swishing them through the air, before nodding. “Very good.” He gave you a curt nod. “So you can be good then, hm?” 

You blistered under his gaze, burning with excitement as you kicked off your boots, chin ducking so he couldn’t see your flustered grin. “I always try to be good.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter. “Yeah, right.” He muttered sarcastically. “Now, you’re back on the naughty track. You know better than to lie.” 

You glared at him, huffing with a pout, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on the hook. “I’m not lying.” 

Eddie’s brows lifted, in shock or in warning, you weren’t sure. “You better watch your tone with me.” Eddie pointed at you, waving a branch near you to make his point. “You’re not in much of a position to be mouthy.” 

You bit back a snarky reply, lip jutting further instead, trailing behind Eddie towards the living room. Eddie laid the branches out, lining them up evenly on the coffee table in front of you. 

“Hold on,” You stilled at the sound of his voice, stopping before you knelt into position in front of the couch. “Go ahead and strip f’me.” Eddie’s eyes rolled over your frame. 

Your hands shook with excitement, trembling when you took off your jeans shoving them to the ground, pulling your sweater off with a rough tug, giving them a half hearted fold and placing them on the recliner. Your nipples pebbled in the cold of the room, maybe from your own excitement. 

Eddie gave you a nod of approval before he left the room, silently going to the kitchen. You sunk to your knees on the shagged carpet, spine straightening long and eyes forward; you were on your best behavior, after all.

The soft screech of duct tape tore through the living room before Eddie could enter, the silver tape in his hand, teeth tearing off the end of the long strip. He made a show of wrapping the bundle of wood together, looking at you with dark eyes while he wound the tape over the switches to keep them together. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and bend over the back of the couch for me, hm?” Eddie nodded, twisting the tight bundle in his hands. “You know how I want you.” 

You swallowed back a shiver when you stood, every inch of your exposed skin tingling with a prickling heat of excitement. Arms stretched out in front, you lowered yourself over the arm of the couch, elongating yourself and propped nicely so your ass was high in the air.

“I think twelve will suffice, don’t you?” Eddie hummed, eyes scanning your features for even a quip of uncertainty- he was good like that. “One for each month.” 

You nodded, shifting from foot to foot, desperate to alleviate the aching that was ever growing between your legs. “Yes, Sir,” Your voice lilted to an airy, positively sweet coo. It made Eddie’s cock lurch, throb with blinding pleasure that left him reeling. 

“Look at me,” Eddie’s hand squeezed your hip lightly, pulling your eyes back to his. “That’s good?” 

You nodded, pushing up on your forearms. “That’s good, Ed.” You gave him a soft smile. “If it’s too much, I’ll let you know.” 

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his features. He had an overwhelming urge to kiss you, but he’d wait, for now anyway. 

“Why don’t you count them for me too then?” You jumped at the feeling of the branches on the back of your thighs, scratchy and rough. Oh, this was going to burn, you could already feel it. You throbbed between your legs at the thought. 

A thundering crack of his palm left you gasping, hips tensing over the arm of the couch in surprise. “Did you hear me?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir,” You babbled, tongue thick in your mouth, head spinning with pleasure. “I’m sorry, Sir.” 

Eddie tutted mockingly, shaking his head. “I don’t know if you’re cut out for the nice list, baby. Sure isn’t seeming like you’re gonna make the cut after all.” 

“Noo,” Your lip jutted out in a whine. “I am good, please, I’ll be good.” 

Eddie tapped the bundle of switches against your ass lightly. “We’ll see about that.” He muttered. “Make sure you count loud for me. Loud and clear.” You nodded, lowering your chin back onto the cushion before you. 

A whispering swish of wind was your only warning before you felt the familiar searing of heat across your ass, this time in multiples instead of the singular switching you’d had before. It wasn’t as hard as usual, Eddie’s uncertainty with the newness of this shining through, but enough to have you hissing, dancing from foot to foot at the sting. 

“One,” You hissed through gritted teeth, fist balling to keep from reaching back, running out the itchy sting. 

The second hit came a little harder than before, enough to leave you whining at the impact. “Two,” 

Your voice tightened with every blow, lifting into near squeaks until number eight. “Ei-Eight,” Followed by a wet sniffle, and a pathetic little mewl. 

Eddie grinned, running his hand over your hot skin, lines of his handiwork already beginning to show. He took mercy on you, giving you a soft rub that he knew you were craving, fighting from doing yourself. 

“You’re doing very good, baby.” Eddie cooed, grinning as you rubbed your teary face into your arms, soothing the burn in your nose, trying to hide your tears. “Looks like you might make it on the nice list afterall.” 

“Thank you,” You gave a squeaky whisper, face still buried under your arms. 

Eddie gave your right cheek a firm squeeze, grinning at how you screeched. “I’ll do these last ones quick, how’s that sound? Since you’ve been so good.” Truthfully, Eddie wasn’t sure he could last much longer. Not with the little sounds you’d make that drove him wild, blind with pleasure. Not with the way he could see how wet you were, get an agonizing glimpse between your legs every time you’d shift that left his mouth watering. 

You nodded silently, and he didn’t correct you, too blinded with his own intense pleasure. The final four came down in quick, crescendoing successions that had you lifting up off the couch, voice squeaking through sobs as you counted them, squirming desperately to get away. 

The sound of his zipper followed the crunching thud of the switch bundle being tossed on the carpet. Your eyes glossy already, cheek pressed to the couch, tears and a string of drool pooling carelessly beneath you. 

“Am I on the nice list now?” You whimpered, so soft and airy, lashed batting up at Eddie sweetly. He thought he might burst, through his heart or maybe through his dick. 

“Fuck yeah, yes, baby.” Eddie kicked his jeans off, hand wrapping around his throbbing length, stroking himself enough to alleviate some of the aching throb of pleasure. 

“Definitely on the nice list. The top of it too. You’re such a good girl, you know that? You do know that don’t you?” He gave you a wide grin, body folding over yours and placing a kiss on your left shoulder blade, erection rubbing against the hot, sensitive skin of your ass. 

“C’mere,” Eddie muttered, pulling you by your hips closer to him, shamelessly rubbing himself into you. “Let me take care of you now, baby. You want that? Hm, that sound good?” 

“Yes,” You whimpered, hips rolling back towards him, desperate for friction. “Don’t tease me, Ed.” 

He let out a small laugh, fingers sliding through your slick, sopping folds, circling your clit, grinning at how you shuddered. “I won’t tease. You’ve been so good, I won’t tease you, baby.” Eddie muttered, pressing a final soft kiss the the middle of your spine, before he pushed himself in, bottoming out and stilling just for a moment, eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

He fucked you over the couch, hard and messy, furiously rutting into you while his fingertips made bruises on your hips from his grip. The way you were taking him, walls squeezing him just right, both you spend collecting at the base of his cock; he decided that you were definitely on the nice list, top of it. On his, at least, his perfect, nice, good girl. 

[amirasainz]

Can you write a Yn Alonso story where George and her have a proper British tea party. Geroge tells Yn that she is now a true princess. .ame it fluff and cute 🙏😭❤️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Unky Georgie

Three-year-old Yn Alonso, the tiniest bundle of joy in the paddock, bounced on her toes as she held onto her uncle George’s hand. Her rose-colored dress swayed with every step, layers of tulle billowing around her like the gown of a true princess. She gazed up at George, her eyes wide and filled with excitement. Uncle George, or “Unky Georgie,” as she liked to call him, had promised her something very special that day while her dad, was away at a meeting. Today, Yn was going to have her very first Princess Tea Party.

George knelt down to her level, smoothing out her dress a bit. "Alright, Princess Yn," he said in a very serious tone, his British accent making her giggle, "are you ready for your royal tea party?"

Yn gasped, nodding her head enthusiastically. "Yes, Unky Georgie! I'm ready!" She clutched a tiny pink purse to her side, her other hand wrapped around his fingers.

"Right this way, Your Royal Highness," George said, guiding her to a little setup he’d created just for her near the back of the paddock. He had found a small table with two chairs and had decorated it with a pink cloth, a little flower in a vase, and a selection of pastries piled high on a plate. In the middle, he’d set a small teapot with a delicate floral design and two matching cups.

Yn’s eyes sparkled as she took in the scene. "It’s so pretty!" she gasped, looking up at George with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. "Is this… is this really for me, Unky Georgie?"

George nodded, his face lit with a proud smile. "All for you, Princess. Only the best for royalty, of course."

He held out her chair, and she carefully climbed onto it, smoothing out her dress like she’d seen princesses do in her favorite storybooks. Once she was settled, George took the seat opposite her. He poured “berry tea”—actually a bit of berry-flavored water he’d prepared—into each cup, trying his best to look as dignified as possible.

Yn picked up her cup carefully with both hands, peeking over the rim to look at George. "Do I look like a real princess, Unky Georgie?"

George smiled warmly, nodding. "You look like the most real princess I’ve ever seen." He raised his cup as if to toast. "To Princess Yn, ruler of the paddock kingdom!"

She giggled, clinking her tiny cup against his. "To the paddock kingdom!" she repeated, trying to sound very grand. Then she took a sip, her face lighting up at the taste of the berry water.

George took a pretend sip as well, lifting his pinky finger dramatically. "Now, tell me, Princess Yn, what does a real princess do at a tea party?"

Yn thought for a moment, scrunching up her nose. "Princesses talk about their… about their kingdom!" she decided. "And about the animals and… and the fairies and… and the horses!"

"Ah, yes," George said, nodding along. "Do you have many fairies in your kingdom, Princess?"

Yn nodded, her face very serious. "Lots! And they’re all pink and blue and sparkly, and they love tea parties. And they sing songs to the horses so they can go super fast!"

George chuckled, absolutely charmed by her imagination. "Just like your papa and his car! Maybe the fairies help him go super fast too?"

Yn’s eyes lit up. "Yes! Papa has fairies too. And… and maybe you have fairies, Unky Georgie!"

George gasped in mock surprise. "You think so? Maybe that's why I’m so fast!"

Yn giggled and reached for a tiny pastry from the plate. It was almost too big for her little hands, but she managed, taking a small bite and grinning at the taste. "Mmm, this is my favorite," she declared with her mouth full, looking at George as if they were in on a big secret.

"I'm glad, Princess. We have to keep the royal princess well-fed, after all." George pretended to munch on one of the pastries, savoring it dramatically. "These are delicious! Fit for a queen."

Yn looked delighted, holding her little pastry like it was made of gold. She glanced around as if worried someone might interrupt their special party. "Do you think Papa will come soon?"

George took her little hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Don’t worry, Princess Yn. He'll be here soon. And when he sees you looking so beautiful in your princess dress, I bet he’ll be so happy he might even want to join the tea party."

Yn’s eyes widened at the thought. "You think so? Papa will be a prince with us?"

"Absolutely," George replied confidently. "And you know what? He might even want to be your knight, protecting the kingdom."

Yn looked at him with all the wonder of a little girl who thought her papa was already the greatest knight in the world. "Papa would be the best knight!"

Just then, a familiar voice called from nearby. "What's going on here?" Fernando had returned from his meeting, and the sight before him nearly stopped him in his tracks. There was his daughter, perched like a little princess in her rose-colored dress, holding court over a tea party with her “Unky Georgie.”

Fernando’s heart melted instantly. He walked over, a soft smile spreading across his face as he took in the joy radiating from Yn’s face.

"Papá!" Yn squealed, jumping up and running to him, her arms open wide. Fernando scooped her up into a big hug, her tiny fingers clutching his neck. "Look, Papá! I’m a real princess now!" she declared, pulling back to show him her dress.

Fernando looked at George with a soft chuckle, his eyes full of gratitude. "A real princess, huh?" he asked, looking back at Yn with admiration. "Did Uncle Georgie make you a princess today?"

Yn nodded with pride. "Yes! And we had tea and pastries, and he said I have a kingdom with fairies!"

"That sounds wonderful, mi amor," Fernando murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’m so happy you had fun."

George stood up, giving Fernando a mock bow. "Well, I was merely following orders from Her Royal Highness."

Fernando laughed, shaking his head. "Thank you, George. This was… perfect." He looked back at Yn, his face full of love. "You know, Princess, if you need a knight, your papa is always ready for the job."

Yn’s face lit up, and she reached for Fernando’s hand. "Can we all have tea together? All of us, Papá?"

"Of course," Fernando said with a smile, taking a seat beside her and picking up one of the tiny tea cups. "For my princess, I’ll do anything."

George grinned, raising his cup again. "To Princess Yn, ruler of all the fairies and horses in the paddock kingdom."

Yn raised her cup with a giggle. "And to Papá, my best knight ever!"

As they sipped their “tea” together, Yn looked up at her father and uncle, feeling like the happiest princess in the world. And for Fernando, seeing his little girl so full of joy made him feel like the luckiest dad in the world.

[bbgyghost]

!CM! WSFW, Smut, unprotected sex, your ex Simon Riley

Being a single mother was hard at first you had got pregnant while you were in the military secretly dating your lieutenant ghost and had too many drinks one night and ended up having sex but you both didn’t mind it actually you both enjoyed it so much that you ended up having it maybe 4 or 5 times a week….until you found out you were pregnant after that you retired from the military you had a good 16 years behind you since you joined at 15. you broke up after having an argument with ghost and ended up moving to New York that weekend

It had been a year and a half since you left the military as you stood at the train station with your little chunky chubby face cute baby boy as he just babbling happily as you had him strapped to your chest as you stepped onto the train you didn’t know ghost the true father of your baby was standing at the next train station as you sat down playing with your baby he looked so much like his father yet his father didn’t even know of his existence you wanted to tell him but when you tried he was always busy but then again he was a lieutenant

New York trains were dangerous especially when you had a healthy baby boy in your hands. As it was a struggle every day between druggies and just all around people all trying to get at the helpless single mother as today wasn’t any different, as a man snatching your purse and tried to make a run for it yet being in the military taught you something about defending yourself as you swiftly took him down while still holding your baby quickly tightly as you held the man’s arms twisted behind his back as he howled in pain yet you couldn’t help but smile at your little bundle of joy laughing as he held his hands out to a rather tall man the stood above you…until you looked up your eyes met ghosts as you paused “S-Simon” you mumble as you caught his attention as he stared down at you quickly realized who you were “Y/N…it’s been a while” he replied as he stared at your baby with a small frown as he didn’t really realize the resemblance between him and the child “I see you moved on” Simon replied as you glanced at the unconscious man on the floor before looking back at you “ah yeah somewhat” you awkwardly laughed not truly wanting to tell him the truth tell him the oh sweet truth that you had his child his offspring the cutest little boy with the dirty blonde hair and the same golden brown eyes that peered down at you “i-“ you stopped yourself for a second before clearing your throat and standing up “I didn’t know you were staying in New York im guessing for a mission” you replied with a slightly cheeky smile trying to hide away your emotions from the man that could read you as easily as reading a children story “Y/N I’ve been tracking you down we need your help with a mission” ghost replied in a small whisper…to be continued

[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

[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...

[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!"

[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