#if there's any tags i missed please tell me

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

dbf! hotch who won't directly touch you but will use a toy on you as you're crying and begging for his touch 😩

So Mean, but So Good

Warnings: Smut! Age gap relationship (both adults), p in v sex, unprotected sex, sex toy, mean!hotch, degradation, rough sex, dumbification, brief biting, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, squirting, pet names, some overstimulation, Hotch is a little condescending in this one, slight praise, begging, teasing, scratching, aftercare, please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.2k (my longest fic in so long haha)

Pairing: dbf!hotch x fem!reader

A/n: Yes 😩. I love this so much and I really got a bit carried away with this request haha 😅. Hope you still enjoy it anon!!

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13 @randomuserrs

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

@hoe4hotchner I'll tag you in this one because we talked so much about it 🤭

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

This post is NSFW minors please DNI****

Aaron has you splayed out on his bed he's staring directly at your core. He's holding a vibrator to your clit and he has been for both of the orgasms you've had so far. It feels good, but he always feels so much better. You want his mouth and his fingers and you want them badly.

You're whining and whimpering because you feel good, but is it mostly because you just want him to touch you and he's refusing to give in to any of your pleas.

"Aaron, please touch me. I need it. Need you." You beg him and squirm. He chuckles from between your thighs and shakes his head. "No. I already told you I'm not going to touch you. Why is that so hard for you to understand, princess? You're so needy for me all the time that your toy doesn't cut it anymore, hm?" You whine again and throw your head back against his pillows with a pathetic whimper.

"You're so mean, Aaron!" He chuckles darkly this time. "I could make it worse. I could stop completely." Another whine and you look down at him. "No! No, please don't. But please, please touch me. Please? I'll be good for you. I just want you so so badly." You beg him again, tears just starting to form your eyes, and he smirks after sighing. "I don't know, sweetheart. I think it's fun watching you squirm and beg like this. Maybe a little more begging could convince me..." He smirks at you and he presses the vibrator against your clit more firmly now. You bite your lip and your hips buck involuntarily.

"Please, Aaron, please! I'll be a good girl for you, I promise! I just need you!" A tear slips down your cheek and you look down at him again. He squeezes your thigh with his strong hand that is unoccupied. "More. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you." His eyes darken and he suppresses his urge to bite the inside of your thigh.

Your toes curl and your chest shakes with a small sob. A real sob.

"Aaron, I want you to do whatever you want to do to me! I want you to eat me out, I want you to finger me, I want you to use me, I want you to fuck me until I can only say your name, but then fuck me harder so I can't even say that. I want to be a wordless mess for you. Please just touch me!" That breaks Aaron and he bites down on the inside of your thigh, no longer controlling that urge from moments ago. He tosses the vibrator aside after turning it off and he pulls his shirt over his head, throwing that somewhere as well. He buries his face in your sopping wet pussy and laps at you with his warm, wet tongue.

Moans immediately begin to fall from your lips and your thighs tighten around his head. He's groaning into you and those vibrations, though not nearly as strong as your toy, feel infinitely better. It doesn't take long for him to pull your third orgasm out of you by sucking and licking your sensitive clit.

"Aaron! Mmmmm. Thank you, Aaron! Thank you!" Your eyes are closed and your head is thrown back. All you can think of is his face between your thighs and the blinding pleasure he's giving you.

Aaron doesn't even give you time to recover from your release before plunging two of his thick fingers into your cunt and thrusting them hard and fast. He keeps his tongue on your sensitive bundle of nerves and works hard to bring you to the edge again. You're writhing around and your hips buck involuntarily against his face from the slight overstimulation you're feeling that causes you to whine and squirm.

You can feel your next orgasm building fast and Aaron can too. He angles his fingers just right and before you know it, you're a moaning mess once again for him as you release spurts of wetness that Aaron laps at immediately. He hasn't even fucked you senseless yet, still hard in his slacks after getting home from work and calling you to come over, but you already can't conjure a single thought as you twitch and spasm.

You only live a few houses away from him and he sometimes wonders if you get loud enough to let everyone know how good he's taking you. He just hopes your parents never walk by his house when you're screaming his name at the top of your lungs.

Aaron's tongue darts between your folds and back to your clit a few times before giving your nub one last harsh suck and then he pulls his face from between your soaked thighs. When you finally manage to open your eyes again, you see him removing those slacks that must be incredibly uncomfortable at this point and you see how wet his face has become from your juices.

"Mm... Aaron..." You mumble and weakly reach a hand out in his direction. "I'm here, princess. Just let me make you feel good. Since that's what you begged me for, isn't it, sweetheart? You can take more, isn't that right, needy girl?" He rests his now naked body against yours and his voice is slightly condescending, but there's still a genuine tone underneath with the second question. You let out another whine and you nod your head dumbly.

He chuckles darkly again and presses his hips against yours. "Have I already fucked you dumb, princess? I've only had my fingers in you and you can't even speak." He grinds his hips against yours and keeps looking down at you beneath him. His cock rubs against your folds and your clit which causes your hips to jolt from the sensitivity.

Aaron smirks and he reaches down to grip his throbbing length in his large hand. He guides his tip through your folds now. "You're so pretty like this. All dumb for me. You're so sensitive now, but you still want more, don't you?" You nod dumbly one more time and whimper. "Normally I would make you use your words but you can't even form them, can you?" You shake your head this time and he chuckles before pushing his entire length into you.

He fills you completely and stretches you deliciously. It causes you to moan right into his ear as he groans into yours. Your fingers claw at his back and he's sure there will be scratches all over his skin soon enough. He loves being able to admire them in the mirror, remembering how he took you so nicely to cause you to mark him up like that.

He's buried deep inside of you now, but he hasn't started moving. It's not because he's letting you adjust, it's because he wants to tease you some more by not immediately setting his pace and taking you hard and fast. Which you don't realise until you have been waiting for a minute or two for him to begin thrusting , only for him to not do so. You whine and try to move your hips to signal that you want him to move. He grips one to keep you still.

"You know, I think I want you to beg me just a little more. I know you've lost your words, but why don't you try to find them to ask for what you want just one more time, princess. Hm?" You throw your head back into his pillow with whimper and a pout that makes Aaron smirk again. "Come on, just use your words one last time..." He's decided to make you find the words you don't have after originally making you think you wouldn't need to. He's sexually frustrating but he's also like a god in bed so you don't want to complain, not that you really could anyway. So instead you just squirm and whine again which causes him to grab your jaw to force you to look at him. "Don't be a brat and do what I said, princess." He's so mean sometimes.

You go through your mind in search of the few words you need and after a moment, you're finally able to find them. "Fuck me, Aaron!" You cry out like you had earlier and with that he begins slamming his hips into yours, pounding his entire cock into you over and over again relentlessly.

Your back arches and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you in that moment, making sure to keep your body pressed close to his. All you can do is gasp and moan as he completely ruins your pussy. The only sounds in the room are skin slapping and whatever vocal noises you and Aaron are making, along with Aaron speaking occasionally.

"Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?" Aaron practically growls into your ear and you try your best to nod your head, but it's hard because of the force he's using to pound into you. He's practically moving you up the bed with each thrust.

It's becoming hard to keep your eyes open and all you can do is just lie there and let him ensure you won't be walking for the next few days, which means you'll be staying with him even longer as you wouldn't dare to go back home and be asked why you're limping. He continues to stretch you and pound into you, somehow making you feel like he's getting deeper and deeper each time. He brings one hand up to hold the back of your head in order to make sure you won't hit your head on the bedframe.

Aaron's other hand travels down to your core to rub your clit and you tremble beneath him. "One more. Be a good girl and cum for me one more time, princess." He whispers into your ear and you feel your next orgasm rapidly approaching. It doesn't take much longer for your thighs to start shaking and for your back to arch your chest up into his. Your mind is fuzzy and you can't think. Your entire body is taken over with the pleasure he brings you.

This also pushes Aaron over the edge and you feel his previously calculated thrusts become sloppy as he loses his rhythm. He groans loudly into your ear and moans your name as he cums inside of you. You feel the warmth spreading through your cunt and you flutter around him with one more orgasm that makes his own last a little longer.

You both stay like this for a good while, attempting to catch your breath as you come down from your highs. Aaron's arms instinctively move around you again to keep you close and you try to do the same to him, but your arms are practically useless, as is the rest of your body at the moment. You'd love to play with his hair, but you can't feel your limbs or make them move.

Aaron peppers soft kisses to your neck and jaw before moving to your cheeks, forehead, and then finally landing one on your lips. His breathing has slowed quite a bit now, but he is still hazy from his intense release. Even then, he still has this want and need to make sure you're okay and to show you his love and affection.

"You're perfect, sweetheart." He mumbles into your neck before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "How are you feeling?" His voice is rough, but soft and low at the same time. He moves one hand to gently rub at your scalp as he waits for you to respond. "I feel good...just limp." You mumble back and he can't help the small chuckle that escapes him. He smiles down at you and kisses your temple. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you." He promises you.

He keeps his promise and cleans you up after pulling out, his release leaking from you when he does, and he showers you with all of his affection in the ways he always does. He gets you some cold water and something to snack on. He puts something on for you to watch together and he snuggles you constantly unless you need him to get you something because you physically can't walk right now and won't be able to for at least a day or two.

He rubs your arms, back, shoulders, and neck to help you stay relaxed and he gives you small pecks on your lips and all over your face. He loves you and he wants to keep you protected in his arms. He wants to hold you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Yes, he loves to be rough with you and degrade you in bed; maybe being a little mean on occasion, but that's for your benefit and his and it's just a game for pleasure. Outside of those times, he just wants you to feel peace, comfort, safety, and love when being with him. Which you do. You always do and you're certain it will never change.

[bullet-prooflove]

32. Stayed up just to cross those lines for Jamie Reagen please and thank you!

Tagging: @kmc1989

Jamie doesn’t go home after the sting operation, instead he sits in his car outside the precinct waiting for you to be debriefed because he doesn’t want you going home alone tonight, not after that shit show.

When he sees you leaving the building, a surge of anger rushes through his body. You’re clad in nothing more than the little black dress they ‘arrested’ you in. It’s a New York winter, there’s snow on the ground and the assholes couldn’t even give you a ride or a windbreaker to protect yourself from the elements. When he steps out of his car, he strips off his jacket as he walks towards you.

“Emily.” He says and you look up with that wary expression of yours before he holds open the jacket for you to tuck yourself into.

“Thank you.” You say softly as his fingers fumble with the zipper, drawing it all the way up to your chin.

His thumb chases over the bruising on your cheek, his palm cradling the side of your face as he surveys the damage. It’s going to sting for the next few days, just like the welts on your wrists from the cuffs that were put on too tightly and the defensive marks from where you’d been forced to protect yourself. They hadn’t known they were going up against a trained professional when they came for you. They’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“I’m sorry you ended up being on the wrong side of it tonight.” He tells you, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“That’s the point right?” You remind him. “Prove that the cops in that precinct were shaking down their female arrestees.”

“We didn’t know they were hurting them.” He says softly as he looks into your eyes. “That they’d…”

He trails off then because he doesn’t want you to go back to that place, not tonight.  That’s for tomorrow when the IAB investigation comes into full effect and you’re forced to give your statement about how a Sergent and his patrol officer tried to assault you, how it was the culture in that precinct, to trade sexual favours for lesser charges.

“Can you take me home Jameson?” You ask him, your voice breaking just a little. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Anything you need partner.” He promises as he holds out his arm to help you manoeuvre down the steps in those frighteningly high heels of yours. “Anything you need.”

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[elitadream]

My dear, I just want to send a proper message that I’m happy for you that you took priority in your mental wellbeing and health. I will miss your art but I will say that I’m glad that I got to view your masterpieces before your art purge (which I totally understand, don’t worry). I think you’re among the best artists to inspire me to find my own footing and interpretation in the SMB fandom in terms on how I view the characters’ personalities, social dynamics and making my personal headcanons and lore posts and of course, in writing my stories.

Your feedback means so much to me when you commented on some of my stories and they make me smile, knowing that you enjoy them. So thank you for taking the time to read them and telling me what you like about them.

I know that I have previously tagged you in some content and especially in some of my newer stories, my dear. Is it okay if I can continue to do so on occasion? If it does make you feel uncomfortable, I can cease the tagging…please let me know.

Know that I’m glad to have come across you, and that your writing and art have inspired me greatly alongside of many other prodigious artists, writers and other content creators in the SMB fandom.

Thank you so much, my dear.

You're so sweet, thank you! ^-^🫂🩷 It's always amazing for me to hear that I've inspired others in some way, and I'm glad that you were able to build your own vision from it! ✍️✨

Oh, but sure! 🤗 I don't plan on being as active as I was previously, so there are posts that I may occasionally miss along the way haha, but I don't mind being tagged. :3 I also welcome direct messages at any time if people want to discuss something with me that isn't necessarily meant to be made public. 👐

I'm happy to have met you too! We haven't known each for long, but I can see you're a very gentle and considerate person who's very appreciated in this community. 😌 Thank you for the lovely encouragements, and you're welcome! 😁

[kakyogay]

⚠️ploppy playbime chaper 3 spoiler and gore warnig ⚠️

the line goes so hard!!!!!1

(stupid dog getting me really into this stuid game and breaking my rain world streak grrr grrrr >:[ /pos)

pics without text under cut <3

[katabay]

original thief series basso & garrett :)

ngl, it's about quality over quantity for me. an npc can have a total of three minutes of screen time, but if they have a cool name, they can live rent free in my head and I'll spend several hours trying to decipher drawable features from a blurry screenshot of pixels

there is a vague hint of a story here, and that's because every time I try to play thi4f, I get incredibly frustrated with how Not Fun the game play is. like, is the story good? well. but it has a PLAGUE. that should've given it instant 'I'll replay this once a year' status in my heart, but the game play sucks so bad that I've never finished it. I can't believe Not Fun gameplay beat out my obsession with narrative plagues.

anyway, the idea is basically if the original era had a game with a plague centric narrative and some other stuff I liked out of thi4f thrown into a narrative blender, with a heavy dash of horror thrown in because some parts of the thief games were scarier to me than entire dedicated horror genre games.

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[faenemy]

i return from the aether with starfire doodles

fire hair go brrrrrrr

[bl00dalchemist]

'They love eachother' i say, as i draw them in situations that are, in fact, not loving.

[h-didanart]

How do you feel about TSAMS ships? All the way from Earth x Monty (canon/generally liked ships) to Sun x Bloodmoon (not canon/rare or generally not liked ships)?

Don't ask how I know Sun x Bloodmoon exists btw

Ooh, SAMS ships eh? I’m gonna list all the ones I know about, if I miss one you’re curious about just let me know, k?

Again, I will list the ones I know about.

(This is gonna reveal my lurking habits on ao3 god fuc—)

Mearth, Monty X Earth - cute, I like the dynamic they have.

KidsCove, Foxy X Sun - I like this one. I do. I understand the vas are sick of the jokes tho, bit ironic considering they’re still dragging the jokes around, but oh well. It could be cute to see develop, and lead to improvement to both characters general health. At least I’d like to think it would

GlitterGolf, Monty X Sun - in SAMS? No. Monty is a jerk towards Sun, I don’t like it when Monty is too rude to him. Generally hate that type of thing anyways. In canon Security Breach however…… Ye :3 Is my otp.

Lumini, Lunar X Gemini - I feel neutral. It’d be cool if it happened, but after all these three have gone through it probably won’t. And I’m fine with that

EclipseXSun - I think this is the most popular one. I don’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, there’s canon, and canon says Eclipse is and always was horrible to Sun, and that makes it an immediate no. I like my ships healthy. But then comes in Eclipse Redemption stories, and I suppose it’d kinda make sense in those? I don’t know man

BloodySun, BM X Sun - iiiii don’t knooooooow. See, BM has done a lot of shit, they’ve traumatized the family so much. Sun hates them. It would never work out. But then there’s this one fic, this one, where Sun finds Original crying in the vents over his twin, and he helps them. And— and— and it’s a BloodySun fic, and it establishes character parallels so well, it shows their feelings so well, it makes it make sense! I- I don’t KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

SolarMoon- ……………. I’m scared of saying anything about this, I don’t want to get death threats

MechShark, Solar X Ruin- YEEEEEEEAHHH CANON CANNOT HURT ME WHERE IM GOING— uh— ahem— I like it. I cannot explain why but I’ve shipped them since Ruin started messing with the arcade machines. I like to see people still shipping it even through the doomed angle, there’s just something about this that makes it click, y’know. I myself have an au where MechShark is somewhat canon, it’s one sided and stays one sided, with Solar telling Ruin he’s aro when it confesses, and then they stay friends. Because I don’t care if they’re lovers or friends, I just like the idea of them being buds.

Eclipse trio, Eclipse X Solar X Ruin- this is actually kinda funny? I don’t know, this feels like a crackship, no offense to anyone, that’s just the vibes I’m getting. Don’t feel in any particular way about this one

Earth X Nebula- interesting, I guess. We haven’t really seen much of Nebula and I can’t really build a concrete profile for her from what we know, but I guess it’d be cool?

KillCode X Sun- I don’t like the sound of this one. KillCode caused (and helped cause) Sun a lot of trauma, it just wouldn’t feel right. That said, there is a fic that has this ship and develops it in a healthy way, and that one I like.

PumpkinGuts- next question

KillCode X SolarFlare- I can see it, kinda. Don’t hate it, but also don’t love it

Eclipse X Moon- no. I don’t care what you say about enemies to lovers, this one just doesn’t vibe with me.

GolfDrop, Monty X Moon- ehh, no. Don’t really like it, can’t see Moon wanting a relationship with them (or in general), they’re both fine as friends. I don’t even ship this in Security Breach

Forkface X Ruined Monty- I am saddened I didn’t see the content of them before the death, I wanted to experience this, I wanted to see them :(

Soppet, Solar X Puppet- sure? Don’t think much about this one

ShadowPlanet, Earth X Eclipse- I don’t really like it. I don’t like how fast it turned into a thing. I can see the appeal and what dynamic they could have, but I just don’t like this one

Solar X Sun- interesting pairing. Don’t particularly like it. I just feel like Solar’s trauma would likely get in the way. They both weren’t very close anyways, which is a real shame I would’ve loved to see them be at least friends.

Lunar X Helpy- Ehhhh? Don’t feel anything about this one :P

And that’s all I could think about and remember.

No hate to anyone who ships these, these are just my opinions, and opinions are subjective. Let’s all just have fun with these characters, yeah?

Man

AO3 scares me

[pmpwbrrs]

@mossyflowers

i think POM needs some. some medical help. Perhaps

[aliothbuzzsawshark]

I love the prince fit so so much yall don’t understand

This is a redraw of art I did last year, original is below undercut!

[flywolfwriting]

Beyond the Path of Reason

The worst part about molting was the itching. It was terrible while his wings were out, but when they were tucked away the itching spread to his skin, like the molt needed to manifest itself physically in one way or another. Lucifer often left his molt until he couldn’t bear it anymore, too overwhelmed by the task to force himself to face it until the alternative was worse.

The truth was he hated looking at his wings. They were a constant reminder of heaven, of his fall; once pure white, they were now stained with the blood of the first sinner. He still remembered that day clearly, when some of his elder siblings had come to fetch him and Lucer thought he’d been forgiven, that he could come home - but instead they pinned him to the ground and soaked him in Abel’s blood and the stains had never truly come out. That first molt he thought he would finally be rid of it but he was wrong - some of his white plumage returned, but only along the lesser coverts, and the tenth primaries. The rest of his feathers grew in that brilliant, terrible red, as vivid as the day he’d seen it spilled upon the ground.

For a long time Lilith was there to help him, and he could just squeeze his eyes shut while she preened for him. The last couple centuries, however - since Charlie had been born - he’d been left on his own. He’d eventually gotten used to looking at them, of course; how couldn’t he when he’d lived so long? He’d even mastered pretending it was fine and his wings didn’t bother him one bit! He could even show them off; See? Look and big and awe-inspiring my wings are!

But that’s all they were. Tools. And later, when he was alone, Lucifer would close his eyes and try to forget the image of Abel sprawled across the ground, head smashed in, until the Angels of God used his blood to tarnish the Morning Star’s plumage.

God’s favored indeed.

Now he was living at the hotel, surrounded by sinners he could call friends, with his daughter and her own fallen angel at her side. He could almost forget how much he hated himself with them around.

Almost.

Lucifer’s quarters were big; bigger than they had any right to be, really, but he didn’t need to leave them for anything if he didn’t need to. He had a large, luxurious bathroom, a large sitting room, a small kitchen, and of course an opulent bedroom that served more as a workroom than actual sleeping quarters.

That was where he was now, having told his daughter he would be gone for a few days working on ‘business’ but would be back by next week. She’d given him a timid smile and soft, “Okay,” and he knew she wondered if he would be back at all.

It was a crushing reminder of just how awful a person he was.

He heard a swell of laughter in the distance and peeked out his window to see the hotel’s residents descending the hill as a group, heading into town for one thing or another.

Lucifer scratched at his shoulder as he watched them go. He could probably afford to pop down to the bar and snag a bottle of something to help take the edge off when he finally got around to getting his wings out. Not that sinners’ alcohol really did much for him.

Mistake.

Alastor stood by the bar, hands propped on his newly repaired microphone, silently watching as Lucifer stepped through the portal. Lucifer froze, briefly considering turning around and facing the week without the solace of alcohol. He couldn’t be seen to be fleeing the Radio Demon, though, no matter how much his skin itched, so he straightened his shoulders and marched behind the bar without acknowledging the sinner.

It seemed for several blissful minutes that Alastor would offer him the same courtesy, even if he was openly staring at Lucifer. That hope was dashed when, holding several bottles of hard liquor, Lucifer returned to his still-open portal. Before he could step through that oh-so-pompous voice said, “My, my, Your Majesty, you have quite the selection there. Planning on throwing a party?”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait- Lucifer turned and glared at him. “If I was, I wouldn’t be inviting you.”

Alastor’s grin widened by a fraction. “And who would you invite, sire? Not your daughter, clearly. I wonder how she would feel, knowing you waited until everyone left to have your friends over.”

“You little shit,” Lucifer said.

“The alternative is all those bottles are for you. But wait! Didn’t you tell our dear Charlie you would be away on business?” Red eyes narrowed. “If it turned out that business was drinking half the bar, that would be quite pathetic, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer grit his teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. He had too much on his mind, was too twisted up in his own anxiety and depression to worry about an asshole sinner. He turned away.

“Oh dear. You appear to be bleeding.”

Lucifer stopped again, this time looking at the demon in confusion. “What?”

Alastor’s brows rose as his head cocked to the side. “Your neck is bleeding. And it appears some sort of beast has been at your arms.”

Looking down Lucifer saw inflamed golden scratches criss-crossing his forearms, and something warm dripped down his spine. He swore quietly. He hadn’t realized he’d been scratching so much.

“You appear to be in distress, Your Highness.”

“What do you care?” Lucifer snapped, nearly dropping several bottles as he shifted in an attempt to stop himself digging his nails into his arms again. The pressure in his back grew worse with his agitation, his wings insistently pushing against the ether in which they were currently trapped.

“Perhaps I am merely curious what could cause someone of your status such concern,” Alastor said airily, “especially if you’re willing to lie to sweet Charlie to hide away so pitifully.”

“Leave Charlie out of th- ah!” Lucifer’s words broke off in a choked cry as his wings exploded from his back, somehow relieving the pressure and worsening everything all at once.

Oh. Oh no. He had let it go too long; it was the worst he could remember it ever being, a feeling like a million spiders skittering over every part of him, digging their little pincers into his skin, burrowing in his feathers-

He shuddered, biting back a whine.

“Oh dear,” Alastor hummed, and when Lucifer forced himself to open his eyes again he found the demon staring at his wings with clear interest. “You are a mess.”

Continue on AO3

[tisorridalamor]

Back on my Card Captor Sakura kick and I really really want a magical girl story where the main character is an office worker in her mid 20s but everything else is exactly the same. Power of friendship, cute mascot character, fun outfits, literally everything is completely typical of the genre except the protag wakes up late for work instead of school and sometimes her and her friends go to the bar instead of a cafe

[mooneytried]

I am really sorry if I seem really inactive on tumblr (since i'm more used to posting on ig) but let me make this clear.

I do not support genocide of innocents. Parents should never have to fish out their children under bombed rubble. Children should never get used to hearing the sound of bombs and the screams of their community or family. Journalists shouldn't have to fear being specifically targeted for the "crime" of documenting and spreading news about the ETHNIC CLEANSING of their people. Hospitals and the people who work in medical care shouldn't fear not being able to provide immediate help to those who are targets of GENOCIDE. A whole country of innocents' genocide shouldn't become normalized or seen as deserved.

And while this post is about mainly 🍉, this goes out to other countries who are currently going through a modern day genocide.

It hurts for me (someone who is especially sensitive to pain and suffering) to watch videos of these atrocities but imagine how the people who are going through these said atrocities feel? The best thing I (and hopefully the people who will see this post) can do is SCREAM for them. Boycott, protest, post all you can!

Genocide IS genocide. No ifs or buts.

[miwachan2]

If Bee were to have a (completely understandable) mental breakdown, what would it look like? Considering the power she has, I bet it would be pretty bad to say the least…

she has actually OwO once

⚠️ read tags

When she was a kid the training and pressure from the clan made her mental state snap and her "blessing of a power" became unstable. It started to destroy her from the inside, as well as what was around her

She would have completely broke had it not been for a literal tranquilizer

since then her emotions were deemed too unstable, instead of the best way to give her time and therapy to work through her previous trauma and better understand herself. as well as gentle training for her powers, she was slapped with hard meds that controlled her emotions so she could handle the training they had planned for her so she could become like her father as fast as possible :)

[gulongming]

♪ Musically Yours | Best Soundtracks of 2022 (based on prompt n. 6 from @kdramaspace and @userdramas' joint end-of-year event)

◌ Jué ài, Faye (Love Between Fairy and Devil) ◌ Fēng xī, Tiger Hu & Ye Xuan Qing (Who Rules The World) ◌ Twenty Five, Twenty One, Jaurim (Twenty Five, Twenty One) ◌ Just Watching You, Jeong Se-woon (Alchemy Of Souls) ◌ Chunhyang-ga, Lee Ji-hye I (Pachinko) ◌ Still Love You, Yoo Hwe-seung (Tomorrow) ◌ Hollow, Sød Ven (Blueming) ◌ Wanna Be Your Lover, Monday Kiz (Soundtrack no. 1)

[faenemy]

Hansel & Gretel + Snow White

I've never done a writing challenge before so here goes nothing :] For @thepenultimateword s fics and fables challenge :D

CW: Death, Attempted Murder, Attempted Cannibalism

On a cold, winter night, a noblewoman sat by her window, staring longingly at the sky above. Try as they might, the woman and her husband had remained childless for many years. As a star blazed across the sky, the woman prayed that she may one day have children whose beauty could compare to the stars. With hair as dark as night, skin as white as snow, and lips as red as blood, on a winter eve, the twins were born. They were all the pair could hope for, and brought much joy to their home. However, soon after the noblewoman came down with a terrible illness, and try as they might the kingdom’s best physicians could not save her. The nobleman mourned the death of his beloved wife, of the mother his children would never have, of her tender heart that they would never know.

As the seasons changed the children grew more beautiful, and the world welcomed them. Charming and kind, Hansel was loved by all who met him, soft-spoken, he always seemed to know what to say. Graceful and witty, Gretel was a quick thinker, who always delighted in a challenge. Though his children warmed his heart, the nobleman wanted more, someone to soothe the aching hole left by his beloved. Nearing the children’s seventh birthday, the nobleman returned from one of his many trips, with a woman. Though the children knew not, the nobleman had been visiting the neighboring domain often and had fallen in love with a woman, who he hoped to take as his wife.

Their wedding was grand, second only to the marriage of the king and queen, with people traveling from all over the country to attend. The children were excited to have a mother, for they could not help but envy the doting mothers of their peers. Though they had not known her for long, the lady already held a place in their heart. The only day that the nobleman had smiled brighter had been the twins' birth. However, soon after the wedding, the children’s dream would be shattered.

The new lady of the estate was not like the noblewoman before. Though she was more beautiful, her heart was frosty, and her cruel actions were only hidden behind a kind facade. She hated being a second choice, and the children acted as a constant reminder of that fact. How she loathed them, with their screaming and squealing as they ran about, a constant bother and nuisance. The lady could have cared less for the nobleman, for her, it was a marriage of convenience, one to cement her family's name. For that, she needed an heir, one of her blood, not another’s. 

Despite her cruelty and disdain for his children, the nobleman loved her still, showering her with gifts of all kinds. The lady had a love for decadence, and extravagance, eagerly accepting all she was given, repaying the nobleman with her treasured affection. He had given her everything from jewels to horses. If he could, the nobleman would have gifted his wife the moon and stars. However, the noblewoman’s favorite gift of all was an enchanted mirror. Her husband had brought it back from the capital of the kingdom, calling it a companion mirror, someone who may keep her company while he was away. Though the noblewoman was skeptical at first, the mirror became almost a friend to her.

“Ask me anything, anything at all, for I hold all the answers, and gift them to you,” said the mirror.

After a moment's hesitation, the noblewoman asked, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who does my husband love most of all?”

“You, my lady. His love for you is as deep as the sea, and as everlasting as time.”

The woman glowed at that statement, knowing she would not be cast aside. However, the noblewoman wanted to know one truth most.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

“You, my lady.” ____________________________________________________________

The noblewoman was ever so pleased with her gift, and spoke to it often, treasuring its words and reassurances. She knew her beauty was beyond compare, and even as she aged she remained ever fair. Everything she ever wanted, everything she ever needed, she held in the palm of her hand, and it was perfect. Until one day, on the children’s tenth birthday, the noblewoman turned to her mirror, and asked the same question she had asked it every morning since she had been gifted with its enchantments.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

“Matched in beauty, the twins Hansel and Gretel are the fairest of them all.”

Shock and rage contorted the noblewoman’s face. How could mere children be more beautiful than her? The noblewoman had always resented the twins, but now, she despised them. Anger coursed through every bone in her body as she heard the distant singing of the pair as they played.

As the noblewoman sat at the high table that night, the celebrations roaring about her, all she could focus on were the two children who dared oppose her grace. With bright smiles and blushing cheeks, the children danced through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and stories with their fellow nobility. All the while the noblewoman remained above it all, a scowl pointed across her face. Watching them with envy, the noblewoman began to scheme. Oh, the poor children would be beautiful no more, by the time she was through with them. It started with simple lies, of the children breaking things, of them neglecting their studies. Taking away Gretel’s most lovely jewels, Hansel’s father’s broach as punishment. Blame after blame was pushed onto the children, and all the while the noblewoman kept asking the same question.

“Who is the fairest of them all?”

Even without their jewels, without the elaborate suits and dresses that had been custom-tailored for the children, they remained ever beautiful. And so the punishments became more severe. The noblewoman would lock the children out of the manor when she could, then blame them for staying out too late and disobeying their father’s wishes. To make them miss dinner, she would trap them in their rooms, leaving their father furious at his own children’s disrespect. Try as they might, the children could never convince their father of the wicked woman’s wrongdoings, and only found themselves being loved less and less. 

The manservants and maidservants tried to help the children, but to no avail. Anyone who was caught was quickly cast out by the noblewoman. And so, in a lonely estate, the children were left alone, with no one to turn to but each other. They would hide when they could, in rafters and secret chambers, anything to avoid their stepmother’s fury, and yet she would always find them. Her seemed never-ending to the children, following them through every hall and room of the manor in a relentless chase of torment.

Through all the noblewoman’s plots and schemes, each time she would turn to her mirror, she received the same dreadful reply.

“Matched in beauty, the twins Hansel and Gretel are the fairest of them all.”

Finally, the noblewoman had enough, and decided that if she could not strip the beauty from the children, then she would simply rid herself of them. The noblewoman wanted the children gone, permanently, and so she sought the services of a particular man. Hiring a talented huntsman, known for taking down the most vile and beastly creatures, the noblewoman gave him a simple task; kill the twins Hansel and Gretel. Whispering one more request of him, she sent him off, telling him that soon the twins would be far from the estate, alone and vulnerable. No eyes to watch over them, no ears to hear them scream, and no tongues to tell their tale.

The noblewoman sent the children out to the edge of the woods, to meet their father for a supposed hunting trip. Excited to spend time with their father, the way they had before the noblewoman arrived at the estate, the children gathered their things and headed toward the woods. Gretel had packed treats for the two, with sweets and blanket in hopes they may have a picnic. The two chattered happily as the manor grew small in the distance. As the two approached the forest’s edge the birds grew silent and the air tense. An eerie feeling overcame the two, and Hansel pulled his sister close.

Lurking in the shadows of the wood, was the huntsmen, bow pulled tight as he aimed for the daughter. With a shudder and a twang the arrow flew. Eyes wide, Gretel began to scream, before Hansel pulled her into the tree line. Another arrow landed at Gretel’s heels, hurrying the twins further on their path. Tangled roots and rocks littered the ground, as branches swayed in and out of the children’s way. This was a hunt, and they the prey. A hidden threat lurked, as the children ran the forest closed in around them. Towering trees blocked out the sun, as curious eyes stared at them from the dark. But the children did not notice the eyes, the only thing they saw was the next step away from death. Faster and faster, their breath came shorter, and Gretel began to fall behind.

Her foot snagging on a stone, Gretel fell. Hansel turned to help his sister up, only to freeze as a silhouette approached. A stocky build, arrow in hand, the huntsman stood, he notched his bow. As death starred the children in the eyes, the world went silent. And then Gretel began to cry. Time was at a standstill and slowly Hansel crept toward his sister, pulling her into his arms, never looking away from the huntsman’s gleaming eyes. Staring at the trembling girl, all the huntsman could see was his own daughter, alone and afraid. In his heart he could not find it to kill the children, for no wrong he knew they had done. The jealousy and envy of one woman would not end two innocent lives, the huntsman would not be their end. 

Turning away the huntsman began his trek back to the estate. As the huntsman turned away, the twins ran, taking off into the shadows and disappearing. The man knew the children would not last long in the woods, that nature would claim them soon, but the lack of blood upon his own hands granted him peace of mind. The noblewoman still demanded proof, however, her whisper echoing in his mind, and so the huntsman slayed a boar, planning to present its innards as the twins. Though a huntsman may lie, a mirror may not.

Bearing the heart, lungs, and bones of the boar, the huntsmen presented them to the noblewoman on a shimmering platter when he returned. Her eyes lit up with glee as she bared a smile with far too many teeth. Twisted delight left her shaking as she took the bloody heart into her hands. No longer would it beat in that child’s chest, no, it would become one with her. In her chambers that night, the noblewoman prepared a boiling pot over her fire. She hummed as she worked, a simple tune, for this was the happiest day of her life. Caring not that she was doing the work of a maidservant, the woman dropped the lungs and heart into the pot, cooking them. She boiled the bones for their marrow, adding their broth to her pot.

That evening the noblewoman would turn down dinner, claiming she was too worried about the missing children to possibly eat. As night fell she feasted on what she believed to be the children’s heart and lungs, and the witch treasured every moment of it. 

A day passed with the noblewoman in delight, as search parties found no trace of the children. Her husband distraught, came to her for comfort, and all was well. As the sun fell, the noblewoman turned once more toward her mirror, and hummed out of habit, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all.”

“Matched in beauty, the twins Hansel and Gretel are the fairest of them all, my lady.”

The noblewoman dropped the comb she had been using with a scream. She fell to the floor, tearing at her hair in rage. Her efforts had been in vain, for the huntsman had deceived her. His deeds would not go unpunished by the noblewoman, however, the children would be the first target of her wrath. If she wanted the children truly gone, then she must do it herself. So the noblewoman began to devise a trap, one no child could resist. Consulting her mirror, the woman began to concoct a spell. A sprinkle of toad’s foot, a few whiskers of rat, a douse of nightshade, and finally an apple blossom. Looking through the mirror, it revealed to her an empty grotto, perfect for the trap she planned to lay. Through the mirror, the noblewoman sent the spell, enchanting the ground and cursing the soil. She would have those twins' lives, no matter the cost, and they would challenge her no more. ____________________________________________________________

Hansel hummed a gentle melody, one that the children’s nanny had sung in a different time. Under the stars their mother wished upon, the children slept, holding onto each other, in a hope to not drift away. With the rising sun came hunger, a small whisper at first that would grow into a roar. The children understood that they would not last long, without warmth, without water, without food, without shelter. Every comfort that the noble twins had possessed was ripped away in an act of jealousy.

As dawn came, the tired twins ate what little food Gretel had packed the day before. Much had fallen on the ground as the pair ran, left to be a feasted upon by birds and critters. They knew that they would soon die if they could not find food, for their was no chance to return to the manor. They had no time to wallow in the sorrow of their predicament, and so they set off to scout their new home. As the children explored their surroundings they stumbled upon a lone fox. The children halted as they saw the creature, for they did not want to startle it. The animal whimpered, pulling further away from the pair. 

“Why Hansel I think he’s hurt!” exclaimed Gretel.

“Gretel, may I have your kerchief?”

Cautiously, Hansel approached the creature. With gentle hands, Hansel tied the kerchief about the fox’s leg, covering its wound.

“Does that feel better, friend?” asked Hansel.

The beast hesitated for a moment before scampering away. Sniffing about, it moved toward one of the many bushes that were full of ripe plump berries. Gretel watched as the fox ate the berries, gobbling up the many that hung low on the bushes’ branches.

Pulling at her brother’s sleeve to grab his attention, Gretel whispered, “If we eat only what the animals eat, then we may be safe. For this is there home, they know more than we do.”

Although the children did not know such, their kind act would not go unnoticed. The creatures of the forest took pity on the kind, young souls, who had shared their gentleness, even when they had been given none. They feared not the children and treated them as friends. The pair was rarely alone in the woods, constantly trailed by birds and critters alike. Companionship blossomed, and maybe Hansel and Gretel felt less alone in the world.

A grotto deep within the forest would become the children’s home, where they would sleep in the hollowed remains of an oak, as no doubt many animals had before them. Hansel and Gretel could not return to the estate, for fear of their stepmother's wrath, but the forest was no true home to them. The children were trapped, not by a cage but by the trees above and the ground below.

As the children explored their wooded prison, they grew more in tune with the nature around them. Leaving shining pebbles the children marked various paths, one to the steam, another to a large oak, and more throughout the woods. One day, as the children went further and further into the woods, Hansel and Gretel found a sight to behold. A home made of gingerbread and sweets, chocolate covered the roof, and cream followed at the sides. Trees of gumdrops and candied apples rose tall, providing shade. To the nearly starving children, it seemed they had stumbled upon paradise. But something was wrong, so very wrong, and Gretel could feel it in her bones. The critters who followed them stopped at the edge of the clearing, as though a barrier kept them out. No birds chipped, no animals scattered in the grotto. Nor had anything eaten from the house, it stood, perfectly preserved, as if a gift. 

“Hansel, I fear it is too good to be true,” whispered Gretel, afraid her mere voice would cause it all to come crumbling down.

As if entranced, Hansel took a step forward, and then another. Gretel grabbed his hand pulling him back into the woods. With a start, Hansel shook his head. 

“I'm sorry Gretel, I do not know what possessed me then.”

“I think we should go.”

“And I think you are right.”

The house tempted the children, a haven just or of reach. As rain poured and thunder clapped, the allure of the home grew ever stronger. Every path they took inevitably led to the same cruel grotto. The house stood, unweathered and tempting, begging the children to draw near and accept its gifts. But the children remained steadfast in their resolve and ignored the gnawing desire that grew.

However, fate did not favor the twins, and the noblewoman grew tired of waiting. She sent for the best hunters in the land. The children would either meet their end with an arrow to the heart, or be forced from their hiding place. With the children’s extended disappearance, the noblewoman proposed a somber fate. Rumors had circled of the forest’s enchantment for decades, of pointed ears and wings, of stolen children and wicked laughs. Any creature that bore the face of the twins was not of this world, and must be killed, before it stole another child’s soul.

As the eve of the children's fifth day in the forest approached they were greeted with hostility. The birds began to fly up and away in a frenzy, as every ear turned toward the woods entrance. Bunnies returned to their burrows, squirrels scittered into trees, and a chilling silence overcame the forest. Creeping into the shadowed brush, the children joined the beasts in hiding. Seven sets of hooves clopped by, slowly, as if searching. 

A flurry of arrows embedded themselves into the surrounding trees as the children ducked for cover. The huntsmen had found them, and the children knew not where to hide. Thinking quick, Gretel pulled her brother down a different path. Following the shining stones they had left before, Gretel led Hansel toward the candied cottage. 

“Gretel, why have you brought as here?” Hansel asked in a hushed voice.

“We have no other hope brother. If the animals will not go here, may the men not.”

Befor Hansel could question his sister further, shouts echoed and hoofs clacked, forcing the twins into the grotto.

The clearing in which the house stood was the only place the huntsmen seemed unable to reach. For two days the children sat starving, for they knew if they gave into temptation, then death would soon follow. But with the reaper circling outside the door, they children were running out of time. On the dawn of the third day, Hansel broke. Maybe the home was a blessing in disguise, a gift for all the he and his sister had been through. A bite of candied apple had tempted his eye and his stomach since Hansel had first arrived, and he could no longer refuse. As Hansel took a bite of the apple, he was overwhelmed with a delicious sweetness, that quickly turned into a bitter burning. Poison seeped into his blood, as his sister rushed to his side.

“Hansel! Hansel!” his sister cried, but he did not respond.

Gretel watched as the house's illusion crumbled before her eyes. The walls turned to dirt and dust, as the trees bloomed purple before rapidly wilting. As the cursed house dissolved so did its barrier, and Gretel heard hooves fast approaching. Pulling her brother away, Gretel rushed into the trees in a panic. Hansel felt light in her terror, as she dashed through the brush, holding tight to her brother. Her fear heightened her senses, as Gretel hurried deeper into the woods than she had ever dared before. The trees towered high, with the sun rarely breaking through, leaving her in the shadows. With her fear waning, Gretel found Hansel heavier in her arms.

In a small clearing, Gretel laid Hansel to rest. He lay still, his breath shallow, as the flowers and grasses curled about him. Gretel cried no tears, for there was no sadness to be had, only anger. The woman who had claimed the family title would pay for what she did to Hansel, Gretel would assure it. She knew not if her brother would ever wake, but Gretel was confident he would be safe in the hands of the forest that had protected them, when they had been forsaken. 

Gretel knew her stepmother would never dirty her own hands, and would have remained in the manor throughout the hunt. And so the girl would return to her former home. Taking some of the shimmering stones from Hansel’s pocket, Gretel marked the way from what she hoped would not be her brother’s grave, to the forests edge. All the while, Gretel searched for the hunters, keeping them at a distance whenever she spotted them. She watched hesitantly as they began packing away their gear, as though preparing to depart. For them it seemed, the hint was over, their mark lost, or their prize won.

Creeping back toward the estate, Gretel followed the hunters at a distance. Though they took the main road, Gretel stayed to the side, just out of view, watching. She wished not to be caught by them, lest she meet a fate worse than Hansel’s. As they approached the manor, Gretel felt her eyes water. Though she had been away nary a week, the estate felt foreign to her. Maybe it had stopped being Gretel’s home long before she was chased out, if it ever was. Home was were Hansel was, and he was not with her, he was not here.

Steeling herself, Gretel prepared for what she knew would come. She could not enter through the main gate, however, Gretel’s years of torment at the hands of her step-mother had left her well acquainted with the grounds of the manor. Sneaking through a small gap in the west wall, the young girl silently crept toward the main house. Though the sun had fallen, the estate was far from quiet, with the hustle of servants and guards, it remained alive and alert. Hiding behind corners, and ducking into entries Gretel remained unseen, until she reached the base of the tower which held her stepmother’s chambers.

Quietly, and with determination, Gretel began to scale the tower wall. Grabbing onto vines and ledges, Gretel’s ascent was cautious and slow, for she refused to fail now, not when she had survived this long. She would not let the witch win. The window to the woman’s chambers was cracked, allowing a slight breeze to blow through. Pulling herself just above the ledge, Gretel peeked into the room. Standing in front of a gilded mirror, talking to herself, was the source of all Gretel’s pain. Her hair curled about her like snakes, long and endless, as sharp eyes stared lovingly at her own reflection.

Gretel also saw her own reflection in the mirror, that of a young girl, with scrapes and cuts, and tangled hair. However, Gretel was not the only one to spot her reflection, as the noblewoman whipped around with a snarl. 

“YOU!” she schreeched.

Hastily, Gretel threw herself over the windowsill and into the chamber. The girl looked around frantically, for anything she could use to defend herself, as the woman stalked toward her.

“Why must you ruin everything-”

The witch lunged at Gretel, but the girl quickly moved from her path. As the woman hissed at her, Gretel moved toward the fireplace, for something had caught her eye. In the fireplace rested an iron.  

“-when may I finally be rid of you!”

With a fury in her eyes, unlike anything the noblewoman had seen before, Gretel grabbed the discarded iron and branded it across her stepmother’s face. The woman unleashed an unholy screech, as the iron melted her skin. 

Pulling the mirror from the wall, Gretel threw it to the floor, watching it shatter into a million pieces with glee, as the woman screamed. Possessing determination beyond her years, Gretel grabbed one of the glass shards from the floor, and stalked over to the witch. The iron had melded itself to the woman's face, stuck to her like a burr, as she tried helplessly to pry it off, crying to Gretel for help. Standing over the woman, Gretel lunged, and sunk the remains of the mirror into the woman’s throat with a guttural cry. The world seemed to stop. A gurgling noise came from the body on the floor, as the woman choked on her own blood. It stained the carpet, pooling below her cooling body. It was the same color as Gretel’s lips. ____________________________________________________________

With a solemn heart, Gretel returned to her brother’s resting place. His breaths were even, if she wanted to, his sister could almost trick herself into thinking Hansel was just asleep. But she knew better. And with the knowledge of what she had done, Gretel knew there was no bringing her brother back. Wrapping her arms around Hansel, Gretel cried. Tears poured down and stained Hansel’s face, as though they were crying with her. And the forest heard her weep. The animals came crawling from their burrows, flying from their nests, to the cries of a child lost. Surrounded by life, Gretel had never felt more alone. Not even in the walls of the estate, as that woman had tormented them, because then she had Hansel, she had her home. 

Gathering around Hansel, the animals joined Gretel in her grief. As a squirrel nuzzled Hansel’s face, it pushed hard against his cheek, as though it were trying to become one with him. With that, Gretel would swear that a miracle occurred. The remaining chunk of the poisoned apple was dislodged, and Hansel's eyes cracked open, as he began to cough and hack. Tears of sorrow turned to joy as color was painted across Hansel’s face once more.

“Hansel!” Gretel exclaimed pulling him tight.

“Oh Gretel, why are you crying?”

“I fear it may be a long story brother.”

And so Gretel told her brother of the candied house and his curse. She told him how she had slayed the witch, how their stepmother would torment them no more. Of a mirror that held every answer, yet could not solve the witch’s blight. That eve, the two returned home, hand in hand. Their father would throw a feast in celebration of their return, and the children would never suffer or want again.