#four one shots

[amagust]

“Are you afraid?”

PAIRING: Four x Reader

SUMMARY: [Following the Divergent movie] After learning your new result from the aptitude tests, Four wants you into his world to show you how to pass. He’s determined to make you pass.

—————

After learning your dear friend took the hard way of not accepting the fact he was going to become faction less, you felt fear take over your body. Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute after seeing your dead friend on the ground—how could I let him do this? You began rushing toward the doors that led outside, gasping for the fresh air of the odd morning to reach your drowning lungs. Before you could make it, you ran into a hard wall, looking up you see the hard wall being your instructor Four’s body.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled as you tried to walk past him but you felt his hand grip onto your arm. He pulled you towards him but you ripped away from him. “Stop, please Four.”

“It’s not your fault he chose this way.” He says. You look up at him and see the way his eyes glistened in the lights of the hallways. His eyes.

“Even if it’s not, I don’t deserve my position I have now. I feel like an intruder.. like I’m-” you stopped yourself from saying the word. You see Four furrow his eyebrows at you. “Like what?”

You let out a shaky breath and looked into his eyes. A tear sliding down your cheek before letting him know what you felt. “They’re going to kill me.”

You felt more tears slide down your face. You knew your fate. You knew what was going to happen to you once you reached the second level of the training. You were warned what was going to happen if you were caught. You were determined to train yourself to not get caught but once you saw the cold, dead body of your once good friend lying on the floor, that hope and determination escaped your mind.

You knew what was going to happen to you no matter how long and how much you train yourself to surpass it.

“Why do you say that?” He asked but it didn’t feel like a question. It felt like a rhetorical question—he knew why but he wanted me to tell him the reason.

I looked up at him, tears staining my red cheeks and my bloodshot eyes piercing through his.

“You know why.”

He clenched his jaw from your response and let out a hum. “Follow me.” He says, turning around and walking around the corner.

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion and followed his order. You followed right behind him, his body becoming your shield from the dim lights of the hallways. His silhouette figure on the walls devoured yours—it was alluring to you.

Once you both reached the room you have been in before for the fear tests, you watch as he takes off his jacket and set it on the chair. He looks up at you and gives you a small nod, letting you know you can close the door. You do so and face him again. He begins to prep like he would do before testing one of his trainees for the fear exam.

“You’re going into my world.” He states. You widen your eyes, taken back by what he just said.

You watched as he gets the metal syringe ready for the serum. What felt like seconds ago he was telling you to be careful—to watch what you say towards him as you watched the way his jaw moved from the food he put in his mouth. Now he was allowing you into his world of fears. Into what kept him up at night and took over the controls of his body.

“You’re just going to let me into your mind?” You asked in disbelief.

“Mhm.”

“I don’t know a single thing about you and you’re just letting me into your world.” You scrambled. The way the vibration of the words slipped off his tongue made you tingle—his voice was deep and husky, it filled you with something you didn’t understand.

“What do you want to know?” He asked, stepping closer to you. Instinct kicked in and you stepped back. He stopped and scanned over your body, “are you afraid?”

During the whole duration of what felt like hours of him getting ready for the transition, he kept his gaze fixed on you. It felt intimidating the way he held his eyes so confidently over your face—your body. It was the first thing you noticed about him when he lifted you off the net when you first jumped down, the way he held his gaze so strongly over you. The feeling of his hands gripping your waist as he helped you onto your feet was engraved onto your skin ever since. The first moment you locked eyes with him and saw how dark and dusky they were, they seemed empty and bare the first time you stared into them. It made you want to know more about what he put a front on.

“You need to know how to handle your fears correctly. How a Dauntless would. If you want to pass without being suspected of what you are.” He stated. You watched as he injected the serum into the skin of his neck and release the liquid. You scan over his face to see his reaction but he was emotionless; like he’s done this a million times. He walks over to you with the syringe in his hand, ready to inject you next.

“Why can’t we just practice with my fears? So I know how to face them when the time comes.” You asked. He ignores what you say as he grabs your face with his left hand, his right with the metal syringe ready to pierce through your skin. Before he does so, you feel the pad of his thumb caress gently over your cheek, like he knew it was going to hurt you but he wanted to protect you from the pain.

“This will be a lot easier. I can’t see your fears clearly on the monitor. I need to show you what you need to do to pass.” The tone of his voice felt like he was pleading with you, begging you to open up to what he was going to show you, but he also sounded afraid of what you might think once you go and experience his fears with him.

You nodded at his words.

You felt a slight pinch into your skin, your nose scrunches in pain and you let out a small sigh from the contact. He slightly raises his eyebrows, like he was letting you know he was sorry for what he did. After he was finished, he placed the metal tab on the outer corner of your forehead along with himself. He then guided you onto his lap in the chair, your back facing his chest as your legs intertwined on the chair that was centered in the corner of the room. You felt him grab the sides of your waist as you lifted yourself to lean back into him, the warmth that overtook his body was now intact with yours. It felt nice feeling the rising of his chest every time he took an inhale and feeling the breath come out of his mouth onto the baby hairs of your neck.

“You ready?” He whispered, his lips so close to your ears. You nodded in response. You were ready to see what kept his mind uneasy on days he thought too much. You wanted to know what pained him in his dreams and screamed him out of them.

“I’ll see you in there.”

—————

A/N: hello my dudes, I am back! And with my first ever imagine of Four. I hope you all enjoyed this as I enjoyed writing this for you all.

Please let me know if you want me to write a part 2 to this of being in his hallucinations. This scene is my favorite part of the movie and I wanted to write a little something about it.

[just-null]

wrestling to be the first to greet you (they broke into your house)

[gutsby]

Cry, Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.

Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.

Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.

“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”

You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.

You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.

Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.

“Joel—”

“Keep goin’.”

“This ain’t fair!”

Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.

“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”

‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.

Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.

You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.

Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.

“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.

Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.

“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.

You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.

The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.

The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.

“Sorry for what?” Joel said.

At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.

“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.

“And Lucien?”

“And Lucien.”

“And—”

“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”

Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.

“And?”

“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.

Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.

As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.

“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.

Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.

“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”

As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.

“You.” Your voice was raw.

“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.

Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.

The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.

Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.

“Cry a little more,” he urged.

Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”

It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?

You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.

Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’

You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.

His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.

In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.

It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.

Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.

You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.

He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:

“Crybaby.”

[demadogs]

You know how people say Hawkins is cursed? They're not… way off.

Stranger Things season four (2022)

[rainylana]

“Hush.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you find porn under eddie’s bed.

warnings: smut, insecure reader, innocent reader, porno magazine, blowjob, daddy kink towards the end, spanking, fingering, fluff, edging, dirty talk, decrophylia, the causal dominance in this will kill you. i’m in love with this one omg i got so horny writing it help. please let me know what you think!!

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to snoop through his stuff, but you knew damn well he looked through yours every chance he got. He was in the shower, and you were freely looking through his drawers, not looking for anything particular. You were just bored. He’d asked if you wanted to join him, and you had just blushed deeply, making him laugh before he tugged off his shirt.

He really needed to deep clean his room, but you knew he wouldn’t. He hated cleaning, hated organizing. Every surface was covered in dust and spider webs decorated the corners. Trash littered the dressers with old pop bottles. You knew he wouldn’t do it, so you figured you’d have to.

Sighing, you started picking up some of his clothes off the floor to put in his dingy hamper, your bare feet sinking into the carpet with every step. You could hear him humming in the shower, his voice echoing off the shower walls. You were able to throw away most of his trash and make his bed, even though you were going to mess it up soon, anyways. You dusted a few tables and even lite a candle. There were a few boxes on the floor that you scooted off to the side. After having nowhere to put them, you pushed them to the bed.

A magazine was peaking out underneath his mattress, and you curiously took it in your hands, eyes widening at the cover. Your face blushed deeply, quickly looking to make sure Eddie hadn’t suddenly appeared back in the room. There was a woman on the cover, a very attractive one that immediately made you self conscious. You started flipping through it, lips parting in shock at the graphic images on the paper.

The first page, a woman tied up. She was being flogged by a man in a mask. The second, another model handcuffed and gagged on a bench. Each page was filled with vile images, yet they made your belly flip flop. Your face burned shamefully. Just as quickly as you had picked it up, you placed it back in its original hiding spot. It wasn’t any of your business.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to force yourself to clean anymore. You sat on the bed, biting your thumbnail anxiously. You suddenly felt very insecure. See, you were a quiet girl. You had friends, but not many. You liked your privacy and alone time. You had many doubts about yourself and Eddie knew it. He tried to help you as best as he could, assure you daily that you were beautiful, his best girl, but you had a talent for letting negative thoughts get the best of you.

“Why the long face?” Eddie announced himself, causing you to jump in your seat. You hadn’t noticed him come out.

“Oh- nothing.” You shook your head, trying to force a smile as you admired his body, nothing but a white towel around his waist. “I cleaned for you.”

“I can see that.” He laughed, opening his closet to find a pair of boxers, dropping his towel to the floor. “If you were that bored, baby, I told ya you could’ve joined me.”

You blushed again, fiddling with your fingers. You were having trouble forgetting the magazine, the women you saw. Of course, you knew they didn’t look like that in real life, but still, the insecurities flooded in. You were new to sex. You and Eddie hadn’t been dating all that long yet, only about six or seven months. Sex was obviously great, but the magazine made you question if he wanted more with you, if he wasn’t satisfied.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie shook the towel against his hair, now clad in black boxers that showed off his prominent bulge.

“Nothing.” You smiled softly, running a hand through your hair. You hated that your eyes started to prickle.

He threw the towel on the floor, watching you questionably. “You look like you’re getting ready to cry.”

“No, I’m fine.” You turned your back, picking at the skin around your fingers. “Just sleepy.”

“You sure?” He asked, coming to sit down beside you. He frowned when your eyes were full of tears. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m okay.” You blinked heavily, waving your hand.

“No, you’re not. You’re crying.” He grabbed your knee, dipping down so he could see your face. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Your face was burning red, a tear slipping down your face as you sniffled. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, I do.” He pushed, tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “I wanna know what’s got you upset. Come on, tell me.”

You whined, keeping your head in the opposite direction so he didn’t see you. When he questioned you like this it wasn’t hard for you to break. “I just- fuck,”

Eddie widened his eyes. It was rare for you to curse. You even criticized when he did it. “Woah, there, holy mary,” He chuckled. “Thought we were supposed to watch our language, huh?”

Your face was beat red and you couldn’t stop thinking about the magazine. “Do you think I’m pretty?” You turned to him, eyes full and bright.

“What?” He said confused.

“You heard me.” You blinked. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I think you’re pretty. You’re beautiful, y/n.”

You pondered with his answer, looking down at your lap. “Well, I don’t think so.”

“That’s stupid.” He answered without a beat, shaking his head. “Don’t think like that. I don’t want you to. You’re beautiful and you know it.”

“But I’m not like them.” You whined, fisting your hands with a cry. “I’m not skinny like those models. My hairs not shiny like theirs, it’s just a big fucking rats nest!”

Your outburst made Eddie recoil, eyes widening in shock at your admittance, but it out the pieces of the puzzle together. “I take it you found my magazine?”

Your face burned as you nodded.

“Baby,” He grabbed your shoulder, turning you toward him. “Look at me. Hey, come on, look at me.” He tried to find your eyes. “I’m sorry you found that. I shouldn’t have it, I know. I promise you I don’t…well, you know, with it anymore. Not since you and I started going out.” He said honestly, wiping away your puffy tears. “But you know those girls in there aren’t actually like that, honey.”

You did, but it didn’t help. “I know.” You tried to look down but he kept your eyes on him.

“And anytime I’ve ever…used it, I’ve only ever thought of you, I promise.” He assured you, grabbing your hands, his hair still damp from his shower. “I’ve always thought of you doing the things in there. Not the other girls. It’s always you.”

You stared at him, looking for any sign of a lie. You didn’t find one. You swallowed awkwardly. “I only looked at a couple pages.”

“What did you see?” He rubbed your knee, scooting closer so your shoulders were pressed together.

“Uh,” You tried to remember, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “A bench.” You stared at the wall. “A girl on a bench being flogged, and one girl with handcuffs over a man’s knee.” Eddie stared at you, making it much more difficult to say such profound words.

“I’m sorry that it upset you.” He frowned.

You shook your head. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have been snooping. I was just trying to clean up, a bit.”

An awkward silence filled the energy between you. Eddie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to scare you. But you were still curious after what he had said. “You said you think of me.” You turned to him, eyes no longer wet. “Is that true?”

He nodded.

“You picture me instead of those girls?”

He nodded again.

“Is that…what you want to do to me? That turns you on?” You didn’t know where this sudden urge of confidence came from, but it shocked both you and Eddie.

“Yes.” He felt a twitch in his boxers, looking at your lips. “The idea excites me.” He knew he had to be careful with he said. You were like a baby deer, anything could scare you.

You nodded this time, gulping as you looked at his chest. “I see.”

“What are you thinking?” He asked quickly. “Be honest with me.”

You liked it, the idea of him doing that to you, it was just scary. You didn’t know how to do it. It would be in his hands, which you were okay with. “It’s intriguing.” You looked at him through wet lashes. “Just..kind of scary, too. Do you think we could try it?”

He couldn’t help but smirk, making your tummy flop. “I don’t have a bench, baby.”

“Well, not that.” You shook your head quickly. “Not that. But maybe..I could, uh-”

“Take a breath.” He instructed you, lifting his chin. “Don’t rush.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth. “You could put me over your knee.” You opened your eyes to look at him, body almost shaking with nerves.

“You want me to spank you?” He rubbed the back of your neck, a look in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. It made your stomach twist together. “That’s what you want?”

You thought you might faint. You felt a throb between your legs that made you tremble. “I want you to do what you want.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“No, no,” He shook his head. “No, this isn’t about me. It’s what you want. You’ve gotta be honest with me, baby. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

It was what you wanted, you just didn’t really know how to ask for it. He knew you were nervous. Your face was on fire and you were picking at your nails. He rubbed your knee comfortingly.

“I want..” You took a breath. “I want to try what was in the magazine.”

“And what is that, exactly?” He got closer to you.

You swallowed hard, looking down to his lips. Oh, how badly you wanted to kiss him. “I want you to- to uh, to spank me.” You struggled to find the words, choppy and fractured they came.

He put his lips on yours in a desperate, hard kiss, one that knocked you back a ways, his nose pressing against your own. You moaned into him, making his cock harden in his jeans. He loved the sweet sounds you made. He scooted closer till he was right beside you, oh so confidently reaching between your thighs to cup your pussy with his palm. You gasped into his lips, parting away, but he connected them back, mixing his tongue with yours and gritting teeth.

He rubbed you over your shorts, warm and wet. You were so needy for him you wanted to cry all over again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest. His other hand was in your hair, tangling it, while the other stayed on your warm cunt. You grinded into his hand, back and forth you moved, whimpering into his mouth.

He did this until you were worked up enough, moaning into his neck, biting into his skin as your orgasm was off by seconds causing before you could crash, he pulled away. “Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He whispered into your ear.

“What?” You pulled back, face flushed and voice high pitched. “What-”

“Going through my things was bad.” He tsked, pulling your hands off from his neck. “You knew better, angel, but you did it anyways. This means I’m not doing my job correctly. You’re falling out of line.”

Your mouth fell open and close, trying to find words. “I don’t-”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” He raised a brow. “You’re going to be punished, you understand?”

Your pussy pounded, heart racing, blood rushing. The thrill of excitement went straight to your core. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeated. “No. You address me as sir during your punishment, got it?” He lifted your chin, raising a brow.

You quickly nodded. “Yes. Oh, I mean- yes, sir.”

He nodded in approval, patting his knee. “Then get over my knee.”

You looked down at his thighs, then back up to him, unsure. You couldn’t move. Nerves paralyzing you. When your breathing got loud, Eddie frowned.

“Hey,” He grabbed your hand. “You alright?”

“Yes.” You nodded quickly. “Sorry- just, nervous, I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly, brushing away your hair.

“Take a breath.” He rubbed your back. “We don’t have to do anything, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Your eyes widened. “No, I- I want to,” You assured, grabbing his wrist. You knew if Eddie got to thinking about it too much, he’d be too worried to continue. You needed to take action.

“I’ve been bad, Eddie.” You said as confidently as you could. “I think I need to be punished.”

His face drew darker, lips curling. “You have.” He agreed. “Think we should take care of it?” He held out his hand for you to take.

You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to pull you over his lap, your torso flush against his lap. Your hair fell over your face, the blood rushing to your skull.

“Comfortable?” He patted your back.

“Yes, sir.” Your words made him smile.

He looked down to your backside, rubbing his hands over your shorts. “I can’t punish you with your shorts on, honey.”

You were sure he could feel you throbbing against his thighs. “Take them off.” You said bashfully.

He chuckled at your meekness, pulling down your shorts to find you bare. He gave your flesh a little love tap, warming you up. “You tell me to stop if you need to, alright? This is new for you, baby, don’t overwhelm yourself.”

You nodded. “Yes, sir, I won’t.”

He warmed your skin, littered with goosebumps, rubbing the fat of your ass with his hands, squeezing and pulling. You had to clamp your mouth shut from moaning, already becoming a mess all over again. You were always so sensitive. Eddie always used it to his advantage.

“I’m going to start.” He announced. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

The first smack was light, startling you with a tiny gasp. The second one, still gentle, warming you up. The third was on the opposite cheek, a little harder, but not much. You had to force yourself not to grind yourself on his jeans, your pussy throbbing with such a need.

“Shit,” You cursed, turning into a yelp when he spanked you hard.

“Language,” He said sternly, rubbing the skin he assaulted. “We don’t talk like that, remember? Trying to make you my good little girl again.”

The fourth and fifth spank was harder, enough to draw sounds from you. Six and seven came quick, making you breath heavy, anticipating the next. You were throbbing so hard it was hard to think clearly, a small burn on your backside starting to grow. You moaned when he spanked you again, full handed, lower where the skin met your thigh.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this, sweetheart.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “This is a punishment.”

You jumped when his hand dipped between your legs, trailing his fingers through your slit. You let out a loud, desperate moan that made him chuckle. “This really get you going, huh?” He pushed his fingers inside of you, making you squeal, lurching up from his lap.

“Oh, god!” You cried out, being pushed back down by his hand. “God, Eddie,”

“Hush.” He smacked your ass hard, continuing to finger you.

You shoved your hand in your mouth as he quickly finger fucked you, giving you no time to adjust to his fingers. He had his way with you, entering his digits in and out with a loud squelch. You cried into your hand, rocking yourself back and forth into his fingers. He worked you up until you were close to coming, pulling away before you could. “Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He said sternly, landing two harsh smacks on your ass, continuing with your punishment.

The peak of your orgasm faded away quickly and you sobbed, yelping and jumping as his hand came down harder on your skin. It really wasn’t bad. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength, but your sensitivity was making everything more heightened. Your need for him stronger.

“Are you learning anything?” He switched from cheek to cheek, alternating in steady, rhythmic movements.

“Yes!” You sobbed, your belly flip flopping.

“What?”

“I need to be a good girl.” Your orgasm was coming back just as quick just from the spanking itself. You were going to cum right on his lap. “Fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” You reached down to squeeze his ankle. “Spank me,”

He told you not to, but the idea of you coming just from him spanking you? He was hard as bricks. “Fuck.” He cursed, adjusting his hold on you before bringing his hand down again hard. Your whole body tensed on his lap as he spanked you, but the rhythm of the music that left your mouth told him he was doing a good job. “Fucking cum on my lap.” He husked. “Be my good little girl again.”

One more smack down towards your core sent you over the edge. You let out a wail, a shrill gasp that made him stop immediately, thinking he had hurt you. You convulsed on top of him, weeping and sweating as your body wracked with shakes of overstimulation and excitement.

“Oh, god,” You panted, fisting at his ankle. You were completely fucked out of it. Your vision was blurry and your head pounded, body shaking so hard that you thought you could hear your bones shaking.

“Baby?” You could hear him say. “Are you alright?” He grabbed your arm, trying to lift you so he could see your face. “Come on, honey, talk to me.”

You could feel how hard he was against your side, but your pussy was sore from having his fingers lodged up inside of you, too sensitive, but you wanted him anyways. With shaky limbs you crawled off his lap and sank to floor, looking up to him with a ruined face. “Am I good girl again, daddy?” You blinked through wet lashes.

He quickly fumbled with his belt, already struggling to keep his cool. “Fuck, yeah, you are, honey.”

You sat up to wrap your lips around his cock as soon as it was free. He gasped, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you. Your makeup was all over your face, snotty and slobbering. Your tongue swiped at the sides and the base of his cock, your hands coming up to massage his balls. He jumped, trembled in your grasp as he bucked his hips into your mouth. “Ah- god, good girl,” He praised. “Such a good girl. Took your spanking so well for me, didn’t you?”

You gagged around him as he sat up, grabbing the back of your head as he wracked his fingers through your hair. He thrusted just hips gently into your mouth, letting out a load moan that made your tired pussy flutter to life. “Fuck, fuck,” He chanted, his own orgasm building in his abdomen. “You gonna take my cum down your throat, huh? You gonna do that for daddy? Be my good- ah, oh- god, good little girl?”

He praised you as he came, shooting his load in your mouth with a quick flex of his hips. You gargled around him, your strings of saliva drooling out of your mouth. When you swallowed and let go of his cock, he collapsed on the bed where you joined him.

You both laid side by side. Teary eyes and flushed faces, ruined makeup and his cum leaking down your neck, a drop you had missed. And your ass incredibly sore, but buzzing with a sense of something new and exciting. The both of you are too fucked out to say anything, so you just grabbed his hand.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"NIGHT TIME RELIGION"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 2.3k+ → a/n: just a simple, sweet glimpse into what our favorite idiots' nighttime routine is like. probably got a little too poetic with it, as always <3

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

“You fell asleep again.” 

It’s not a question, just a mere observation. Eddie doesn’t even put any emphasis on the key word there, that it had happened again, as he glances up on you sprawled out on his couch. 

“Nuh uh,” you childishly rebuke, ironically squeezing your eyes shut tighter as you let your cheek nuzzle deeper into the page of the textbook you’d been taking notes on, “I’m… I’m wide awake.” 

Every word painfully slurs with your next, voice mostly muffled. If he hadn’t been so close to you from where he was sitting on the floor, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make out what you’d just murmured. 

It only makes him laugh softly as he focuses back on whatever piece of equipment he’d brought into the apartment that belongs to his bike, “Sure you are, sweetheart.” 

The coffee table is spread with hand towels and paper towels alike as Eddie fiddles with the hunk of metal. You hadn’t even prodded him about what it was he was fiddling with; you were too busy, knee deep in your studies as you’d made yourself comfortable in his living room. 

It was a normal routine now – something cozy, something domestic. Instead of being holed up in your dorm these days, you found yourself occupying apartment 2C far more frequently than you’d ever admit to anyone else. Half the time, the two of you didn’t even have plans. It wasn’t about elaborate date nights or purposeful hangouts anymore; these days, the two of you simply enjoyed one another’s presence. It was enough to just know he was there with you, in the same room, as the two of you were occupied with your own individual tasks. Sometimes, he would be reading a book as you wrote your essays. Sometimes, he’d steal your laptop to shop for new bike parts and accessories online as you caught up on your favorite TV shows. There had been plenty of phone calls with Nancy in which Eddie had let you simply rest your head in his lap, hands mindlessly carding through the scalp of your hair as he tried to offer assistance to his best friend’s daily troubles and rambles. 

It was nice, and it was normal, and it was something the rest of the world would have to pry from your cold, dead hands. 

The apartment could have easily become something akin to a prison after the bet, but it hadn’t. Instead, somehow and someway, you and Eddie had turned it into a proper sanctuary.

You no longer spent lectures daydreaming about returning to your dorm; your mind much preferred longing to return to Eddie’s room, to picture falling face down in his bed, where the pillow on the right side had begun to smell of your shampoo rather than his cologne. 

“It’s getting late,” he sighs when he hears you go silent again. He’s not annoyed by any means. If he had it his way, he’d probably curl up on the couch with you for the rest of the night, content to fall asleep to the view of your face smoothing out in peaceful rest. But he knows if he leaves you be, you’ll wake up with an aching back and an attitude that makes even Harrington cower. He puts down his project for the night, wiping his hands on a damp paper towel before he reaches blindly behind himself to give you a few taps on your rear, “C’mon, we need to get ready for bed.” 

You swat his hand away, and it only makes him grin, “It’s not that late. Plus, I’m comfy.” 

“It’s half past eleven, baby.” 

And oh, do you shoot straight up at that. 

Your eyes are finally wide open as you look at him wildly, face struck with confusion, “Excuse me?” 

“I said, it’s half past ele-”

“When the Hell did it get so late?” you fumble with yourself as he slowly gets up, making a show out of stretching all his limbs. You don’t even grow distracted when his arms reach well over his head and tug up his shirt, exposing that sliver of stomach that would normally entice you, “I swear to God, it wasn’t even ten like…. Ten minutes ago.” 

“Ten waking minutes ago, maybe,” he teases, holding a hand out for you, “Time flies when you’re napping instead of studying.” 

It’s hard for him to not smile so softly down at you right now, even as he watches the defeat take hold. Your entire outfit is compiled of his clothes, yet another t-shirt you’d snagged from him along with a pair of sweatpants that he can’t even remember the last time he’d worn them. Your hair is messy, falling out of the convenient style you’d fashioned in it hours before when you’d declared you needed to focus. Your shoulders sag, the corners of your mouth inch downward, and all he really cares about right now is getting you in bed so he can wrap himself up around you. 

Your eyes dart between his outstretched hand and your textbook, still open on a page that you’d embarrassingly drooled on, “I know we joked about celebrating when I aced my finals, but can we still get milkshakes when I absolutely flunk them?” 

The way you manage to melt his heart is impeccable. He doesn’t even have it in him to be snarky, or to make another menacing jokes, “Of course we can.”

That seems to make your decision. You finally reach out and take his hand, clearly trying to be dramatic as you pull on him with the entirety of your weight, almost as though your end goal was for him to actually end up beside you on the couch rather than to be standing beside him. 

If your goal is the former, you fail miserably. He doesn’t budge beneath your drag, only leaning forward to grab your other hand and properly haul you off the couch. 

“Oof,” you huff out as you collide with his chest from the force, letting your face smash into him and making no move to pull back, “Can’t you just carry me to bed? Is that an option?” 

He almost says yes. Almost. 

“We won’t even make it down the hall,” he chuckles, taking slow steps back, guiding you right along with him, “I may or may not have also dozed off at some point. Jury’s still out on that one.” 

“Is it?” 

You’re hardly lifting your feet, shuffling your way along, letting him walk you deceiving to the bathroom rather than the bedroom. He has no idea if you’ll be capable of doing your full skincare routine, but at the very least, he has to get you to brush your teeth. If he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it. 

“It is indeed,” he finally stops walking backwards, deciding it might become more dangerous rather than just dragging you along, “Probably won’t get a ruling until morning, so we might as well brush our teeth now, doll.” 

He’s trying to sweeten the deal. Coaxing you with adoring pet names to keep you in motion. 

“Ugh, effort,” you crunch your nose as you say it, and it’s clearly more for show than anything now. You’re fully conscious, capable of getting yourself to the bathroom sink where both your toothbrushes now sit side-by-side in a glass cup, but you don’t let go of his hand just yet. 

His palm is warm, and right now, all you really wanna do is curl up in that heat. 

Eventually, though, you let go. The two of you stand in the mirror as you go through the motions of wetting your toothbrushes, applying the toothpaste – all the boring, mundane actions that are more habit than conscious choices. But interspersed in the habits you’ve gathered over your years of life are new ones, minimal but vital after the amount of time spent together. Proof of the way this nighttime routine had become something of a religion between the two of you, something to be offered and to be shared rather than simply going through the motions. 

The way Eddie carefully rolls the end of the toothpaste tube before passing it to you, simply so it’s easier for you to get your share of it. The way you leave the water running after you’ve wet your own brush just so Eddie can also do so. All the sneaky glances caught in the mirror as the corners of your mouths foam up. Every ridiculous face, every nimble bump of your hip to his, the way he sticks out his very white tongue at you before he spits out into the basin – new things that have all become the normal, but still settle warmth in your chest.

Things that water a garden of vinery and blooms that no longer only belong within the confine of your bones, but his as well. 

A shared garden of memories and comfort. Growing, flourishing, nurturing one another. 

You lean down to spit right before him, and when you take a second too long, he tugs on a strand of your hair, trying to move you. And even as tired as you are, you find it within yourself to be a little shit as he so lovingly mumbles out around his toothbrush, lingering until he’s bumping you with his hip with purpose. 

Passing the floss back and forth (or more like you shoving the floss into his hands before he can try to argue against it), using the same paper cup to sip mouthwash out of – something so bland that you used to do it alone, now something to enjoy with him. 

You kind of love it. You kind of love him. 

“Should I wash my face?” you question, leaning in closer to the mirror and poking at your cheeks, checking your skin for any blemishes you can find. 

Eddie only moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and making the entire ordeal far more difficult as his chin rests on your shoulder, “Not if you don’t feel like it. Besides, it’s gonna make your nose cold, and then you’re gonna press it all over my damn neck and-” 

You cut him off with a joking glare, reaching up to flick at his nose, but he’s quick to pull his face out of your reach. Smiling widely, showing off those fresh and minty pearly whites. 

“If my cold nose bothers you that much, I could just stay on my side of the bed tonight,” you scowl, even though you were already taking his advice and calling it a night, twisting out of his hold to flick the lightswitch and exit the bathroom. 

He’s still stronger as he keeps his arms in place, only twisting himself around to face the door frame right with you, whining in your ear, “No.” 

He drags out the ‘o’, his voice slowly growing more quiet the longer he draws out the vowel. At some point, it’s less than Eddie has ended the protest, and more that he’s just run out of breath. 

His arms only leave your waist for the two of you to get dressed in proper pajamas. Well, what you both consider proper pajamas. 

You, left in only his shirt and underwear, and Eddie simply in his boxers. 

There’s no more sarcastic comments or lazy banter, although you certainly expect it. You’re almost holding your breath for it, right up until Eddie’s lifting his comforter and eagerly motioning for you to climb into bed first. Not one smartass remark about ladies first that could easily backfire on him as you shoved him into the bed before you. 

No, he waits until the two of you are lying on your sides, facing one another, not quite touching when his face breaks into a radiant smile. 

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him, overly suspicious of his random burst of happiness. 

“You call it your side of the bed.” 

At first, you don’t get it, “What?” 

“You called it your side of the bed,” he repeats with the utmost emphasis, finally throwing his hand out in search of your own, pulling it up to eye-level so he can toy slowly with each of your knuckles. 

“Is it not?” you’re whispering like two children at a sleepover, your feet finally drifting to toe at his calves. If they’re too cold for his liking, you don’t know. He doesn’t flinch or complain, only spreads his legs ever so slightly so there’s a space left for you to fill as you intertwine limbs. 

“It is,” he confirms, nodding a little, finally slotting his fingers between your own, “Just nice to hear you say it out loud.” 

And suddenly, you get it.

It’s your side of the bed. It’s your toothbrush resting beside his. Your textbooks and laptops are still on his couch, you have a sticky note with a reminder for yourself to buy more milk  put up on the fridge, there’s now a space for your shoes at the front door right beside his daily boots – slowly but surely, you’ve whittled out spaces for yourself here, with him. 

Even when you’re not here in this apartment with him, your presence remains. Someone could walk in, and they still see traces of you. You exist here, constantly, right along with Eddie. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, finally scooching closer. He immediately shifts so that you can cuddle into his side, your head resting against his chest and your ear pressed to listen to his thrumming heartbeat. A perfectly carved out space for you even here, between this sheets, against his skin, “It’s nice to say out loud.” 

Not a routine, but a religion. Something to worship in the quiet hours between the sound of quiet snores and a noisy coffee maker you already have plans to replace as a Christmas gift to Eddie. An apartment turned altar, with offerings from both of you, to all that has and could become. 

You whisper your final prayer, just as you do every night, even when you think Eddie might already be fast asleep, “G’night, Eddie. I love you.” 

He’s not already asleep. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

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[bigboysteveharrington]

Steve lowkey earning himself a reputation for liking guys and girls before he even realizes he does because he keeps interjecting and giving his own answer every time someone tries to ask Robin about guys

At first no one thinks anything of Steve’s interruption and answer when Nancy asks “what even is your type?” quite clearly to Robin and Steve immediately answers “I like girls that are way smarter than me” and everyone just assumes he’s interrupting to hit on Nancy and not to deflect

Then later someone insists some guy was flirting with Robin and she should go for it and Steve immediately goes “Are you kidding me? Robin’s way out of his league. Besides, I had a class with him and he mentioned his stamp collection in it like eight times. Do you really think she wants to sit around and pretend to be impressed by hundreds of stamps?” Still no one thinks much of it yet and if anything they think Steve might be jealous or might just have standards for who they should set her up with

It’s not until it becomes a habit of him answering questions meant for Robin that people start to think there’s a reason, but it’s not Robin they’re onto

Like when they’re having a movie night and Max is going on and on about a shirtless character while Lucas is totally unfazed but Dustin complains and El says which character she liked more and then Max turns to Nancy to break the tie and say which guy is dreamier and Nancy casts her vote, then turns to look over at Robin and ask which guy she’d go for and Steve knows who the question is for but hey he’s sitting right next to Robin so Nancy’s looking in his direction and too and she didn’t say Robin’s name, so Steve doesn’t even hesitate before dropping the name of a character and making sure he keeps the focus off of Robin and keeps everyone distracted from dragging her into that debate by immediately backing it up by saying that Max is right and giving even more reasons to choose him

But even after that, that’s mostly forgotten by the time the older group is drinking and Eddie suggests they play a drinking game and normally Steve would be all over any suggestions, but he turns down truth or dare because he knows how uncomfortable Robin would be and doesn’t want her having to choose between awkwardly lying and deflecting or doing dares she’s not comfortable with or potentially outing herself so he at least manages to change it to never have I ever because that’s a safer bet when he knows Robin hasn’t done anything with any girls

But then Steve ends up drinking significantly more than anyone else while Robin and Eddie are hardly drinking so they end up switching games and somehow they end up playing fuck, marry, kill except Nancy has no interest in getting married or discussing it and she says there’s been enough death in Hawkins and it would be more fun to play with the options as sleep with, kiss, slap. And the game is already started before anyone can ask why marry got changed to kiss and before drunk Steve can figure out how to discretely convince everyone not to. The game goes fine at first with Argyle asking Jonathan about three girls from California. It goes alright when Jonathan asks Eddie about three girls. Steve gets a little concerned when Eddie turns his attention on Nancy that he’ll put Jonathan and him in the list right in front of Jonathan, but Eddie is sober enough still that he at least has enough tact not stir the pot and blow things up on her first turn by throwing them both in in front of them

But then Nancy goes to give Robin a turn and she’s looking right at her and lists the three guys there other than Steve (possibly because she believes Robin on the platonic with a capital P thing and possibly because she doesn’t want to find out if that would waver) so of course Nancy thinks it’s clear that she must be talking to the only other girl there. And before Robin can even try to think of what lie would be the most convincing and least likely to start any awkwardness or drama, Steve’s already jumping in with “Well, I already hit Jonathan and that didn’t go well for me, so I’ll give him a break. And this situation” (gesturing between himself and Nancy and Jonathan) “is finally starting to feel normal so I don’t need to make that awkward all over again by sleeping with your boyfriend. So kiss Jonathan.” And Nancy and Jonathan are looking at him so confused and Robin is grateful for the interruption and relieved but also kind of amused by the level of thought he’s putting into it instead of just throwing out names however. Argyle’s not fazed at all and just waiting to see what he’ll get. Eddie goes from deer in the headlights startled to leaning forward with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hand waiting to see where this will go to abruptly sitting up again and trying to look less interested while his leg nervous bounces and he tries to figure out if Steve is giving a detailed answer to this as a joke or because he’s putting genuine thought into the idea of being with a guy

Steve looks between Eddie and Argyle for a moment, then focuses on Argyle and is like “Sorry, I hardly know you and getting dragged into hitting Eddie or standing around and watching Tommy do it without making any move to stop him is exactly the kind of douchebag bullshit I would have pulled in high school. So I guess slap you and have sex with Eddie.” Eddie’s drink goes down the wrong way when Steve adds “Plus, guitar players are supposed to be good with their hands, right?” and he tries to play it off and not react to the fact that Steve Harrington just said he’d have sex with him and that he thinks Eddie would be good in bed even if it was just in the context of some stupid game. Meanwhile Argyle’s just like “Nah, that’s cool dude. I get it. I would have slapped you too if the roles were reversed.”

After that, a few people start wondering a little more seriously if Steve is into guys too and had his guard down while drinking. But Eddie isn’t going to press his luck without clear evidence and everyone else isn’t going to push it so they just silently wonder a little more every time Steve interjects in the girl talk with his own opinion once again

[samandcolbyownme]

Anyhting Chris pls pls pls

Prompt: two people who meet as guests at a wedding

Warnings: SMUT18+, swearing, mentions of alcohol, flirting, kissing, hooking up at the wedding, unprotected sex, hair pulling, biting, fingering, general filth

Word Count: 2.1K | unedited

——

Everything about this day was beautiful.

The venue.

The decorations.

The bride and bridesmaids.

The suits the men wore.

The ceremony.

Everything was like it was pulled straight from a story book.

You’ve known the bride and groom for years, and you couldn’t be more happy for them. Even though you came alone, you didn’t let that get you down.

You were sat at a table, sipping your class of champagne when three guys walk over and sit down.

“Hi, I’m Nick. These are my brothers.” He motions to one, “Matt.” He point to the other, “That’s Chris.”

You give them a smile, “Hi, I’m y/n. How do you guys know the bride or groom?”

As you were getting more into the conversation, you couldn’t help but notice your attention was getting drawn to Chris the most.

“I’m going to go grab a drink, Matt, Chris. You guys want anything?” Nick asks as he stands up and Matt nods, “I’ll come with you.”

Chris gives you a smile and shakes his head slightly as he looks over at them, “Just bring me something back.”

You watch as they walk away and you lean in, “So, what did you think of the wedding?”

“I thought it was really nice. Everything looks like it was pulled straight out of a story book.” Chris looks around and back to you and you nod, “That is exactly what I thought when I got here.”

“Did you come with anyone?” Chris asks and you shake your head, “No, I didn’t.” You take another sip of your drink, “My boyfriend, well…” you laugh slightly, “Sorry, ex.. boyfriend dumped me last week and it was too late for me to find anyone else so I just..” you shrug, “Came by myself.”

“I’m sorry, that guy sounds like a total asshole.”

You nod, “Yeah, I found that out. Took a while, but..” you smirk, “Here we are.”

“Yeah.” He nods, “Here we are.”

“Your drink kind sir.” Nick chuckles as he sets down the glass in front of Chris. He looks at you, “I’m sorry, did you want anything.”

You shake your head, giving Nick a smile, “No, thank you. I’m alright for now.”

He nods and sits back down.

“Where’s Matt?” Chris looks around and Nick bats the air as he takes a sip, “Over talking to some girl. I don’t think he’s really interested, but I left before he could ask me for help.”

You laugh slightly and shake your head, “You guys are funny.”

Chris smiles and Nick laughs, “Oh honey, you have no idea.”

——

As the night goes on, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris, getting to know him more and more, and you couldn’t help but thank the lord that there was an empty seat in between the two of you.

Thank you, ex!

“Do you, uh. Want to dance?” Chris asks, his tone kind of nervous, “It’s okay if you don’t, I know it’s kind of a slow song.”

“I would love to.” You smile and stand up, the rush of the alcohol setting in which causes you to feel slightly dizzy.

Chris stands up, his hand on the small of your back, “You alright there?” He laughs slightly and you nod, laughing with him, “Yeah, just the alcohol and this is really the first time I’ve stood up in a while.”

He nods and you slide your hand to his, “Shall we?”

He nods, giving you a smile before you walk up to the dance floor to join the other couples who are dancing.

Chris holds you close, his arm around your waist as his other hand holds yours. Your other hand lays gently on the back of his neck.

As you sway back and fourth, he takes a deep breath, “You look really pretty in this dress by the way.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Thank you. You look really handsome in your suit.” You slide your hand down to grip the collar of his jacket and right then and there, looking up at him, it was clear what you both wanted.

You swallow, “Do you want to go for a walk? Getting kind of crowded in here now.” You laugh slightly and Chris nods, “I was actually thinking the same thing.”

He smiles and intertwines his fingers with yours, leading you out of the venue.

As you step outside, the cooler air hits you and you take a deep breath.

“Where do you want to go?” Chris looks over at you and you shrug, “Wherever you want.” You smile and both of you start walking a path that leads down towards a pond.

The sun was getting ready to set so the sky was pretty.

It match everything perfectly.

“The sunset is really pretty.” You point to the sky and Chris wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, “It really is.”

You glance over at him, turning towards him as his eyes bounce from your eyes to your lips.

“Can I-“

You cut him off, “Please.”

He smiles and leans in, cupping your cheek with his other hand and gently presses his lips to yours.

You would have thought the venue set off fireworks because that’s what you felt right now.

Sparks, heat, passion.

Chris was everything you knew you needed, and you didn’t want to let him go.

“Sorry if that-“

You cut him off again, “That was perfect.” You smile, leaning back in for more. He depends the kiss, his hand pushing your lower back to move you closer to him.

“Chris..” you lean back, “Do you want to do this?”

He shrugs, giving you a smirk, “Gotta live on the edge sometimes right?”

You smile and pull him with you, both of you running up the path as you scout for somewhere to go.

You end up inside of the house that’s connected to the venue, both of you looking for rooms that don’t look occupied.

“Here, here.” Chris motions and you run over, holding his face as you kiss him and he back you up into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

He breaks the kiss, only to lock the door before they’re on yours again.

You move over to the bed, lying back as his body hovers over yours.

His lips reconnect with yours as his hand slides down your body to bunch up your dress and pull it up so his hips can rest between your knees.

“Can’t wait to feel you.” He mumbles, “You actually look so hot in this dress.”

You moan as his fingers dip between your thighs and brush against your clothed clit, “Please.” You whimper out which causes him to smirk, “Just relax, ma. It’s just you and me.”

He pushes your panties to the side and slowly slips two fingers into you, “Soaked.”

You moan out, squeezing his fingers as your hips roll forward. He starts to slowly thrust his fingers and out as he leans back in to kiss you.

He swallows your moans with ease, “Does that feel good?”

You nod, looking up at him, “S-so good.”

He smiles slightly, glances down at his hand between your thighs, “Bet you taste just as good as you look.” He looks back at you, “But considering we’re on a time crunch..” he pecks your lips, pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to his lips.

You watch as he wraps his lips around them. Your lips part as he groans, “Fuck.” He licks his lips before leaning up.

His hands move to undo his belt and pants, “Well have to save that for our second date.”

You raise your brows, “There’s a second date?”

He nods, “Oh yeah.” He pushes down his pants and boxers and leans back down, “I mean, only if you want a se-“

“Yes, yes, of course I do.” You smile, pulling him in for a kiss as he lines his cock up with your entrance.

The kiss is interrupted by both of you moaning as he slides in.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” He groans as he presses his lips to yours, thrusts picking up slow and steady.

The make out is heated, hands roaming each other’s bodies. His hand paws at your boob, pulling them out of your dress before he dips his head down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, chest pushing into the air. He slides a hand up along your arm and intertwines your fingers with his.

You squeeze his hand, moaning out loudly.

“Shh, baby. Don’t want to get caught and have to end early, do you?” He smirks as you shake your head. You watch as he moves to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the other.

You bite down on your lip, legs wrapping tight around his waist as you feel your orgasm coming on quickly, “S-so close.” You gasp out, “Fuck, so close.”

Chris kisses up your chest, over your collar bone, and up your neck to your lips, “cum for me.” He mumbles against them, “You sound so pretty.”

You whimper, tilting your head back as your back arches off the bed. Your walls squeeze his cock repeatedly as you cum.

He tilts your chin down, muffling your moans with his lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, you hand tugging and pulling at his hair, which earns a low moan from him.

“I like it when you do that.” You whisper, smiling against his lips. He smirks, “Yeah? Plenty more where that came from.”

He kisses down your neck, moaning lowly into your ear and you gasp as his thrusts pick up. He buries his face into your neck, “M’gonna cum soon, baby.”

You nod, releasing one of your legs from around his waist. You dig your nails into the skin under his shirt collar, “you feel so good.”

You turn your head and he lifts his. You lay a hand on his cheek and kiss him. His thrusts grow sloppy, so you know he’s going to cum any second.

“F-fuck. Fuck.” He whimpers, “Feels so good, ma.”

You moan against his lips, letting your leg fall from his waist and he pulls out, spilling his cum onto your pelvis.

You lay there, breathing heavy as you watch him sit up, “You didn’t get any on my dress did you?” He looks down, shaking his head, “Nope. We’re good.”

He chuckles, “Your panties.. uh, that’s a different story.”

You laugh slightly, “That’s fine. I can take them off.”

He raises his brows and smirks, “Hold on, let me get you something to wipe off with.” He stands up, fixing himself before walking over to a door. He comes back out with a towel and walks back over, “Here, watch your dress.”

You move your dress up more and Chris wipes you off, “Alright.” He drops the towel and reaches out to help you sit up.

You smile, “Thanks.” You stand up, bending down to take off your underwear, “I’ll just have to keep these bundled up until we get back.”

“I can put them in my pocket.” He stops talking, “That, sounded weird. Sorry.”

“No, no. I mean, it’ll save me from being asked what I have.” You bundle them up the best you can and Chris takes them.

You both can’t help but laugh as he takes them and shoves them into his pocket.

“Alright.” He turns to you and holds out his arm, “Ready to sneak back in?”

You nod, wrapping your arm around his, “I am.”

You walk over to the door and Chris unlocks it, opening it up slowly and peaking out.

It’s silent.

“Alright. Let’s go.” He looks back at you and you nod, following him out of the house and back towards the venue.

You walk back in and Chris is stopped by Matt, “What were you two doing? Hmm?”

You couldn’t help the red tint that made its way to your cheeks, so you look down smirking, letting Chris come up with something.

“We, uh, went for a walk. It was getting too crowded in here.” Chris laughs nervously as Matt stares at him, “What? Matt. Fuck.”

Nick walks up, “Oh there you guys are w-“ he squints, tilting his head, “Wait. You guys fucked, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god.” Chris slides his hand to yours, “Come on.”

——

Thanks for reading! Love you all so much! See you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[charmac]

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

Hello! It’s that spooky time of year again! Ahh if only every month was as awesome as this one.

Ah well.

I got a long one for you folks! I guess it’s spooky?

….well I hope it’s spooky in SOME parts.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy and reblog!

———

————

—————

(Y/N) stumbled through the dimly lit dungeon, each echoing step reminding her that she was very much alone at the moment.

The cold stone walls seemed to close in with every corner she turned, each room only leading to more dead ends, puzzles, the occasional trap, and some monsters that were thankfully not smart enough to follow her out of the rooms.

She cursed under her breath, wishing she’d been able to fight back better when she was taken, but her priority then had been protecting the villagers, not herself.

If not that, then at the very least she wished she had been carrying the bag of food Wild had given her. She doesn’t know how long it’s been but she was very hungry and starting to become very thirsty.

She could already see Sky and Hyrule tearfully check her over for injuries.

Wild would certainly be devastated that she hadn’t had anything to eat.

Oh, the guilty faces on the others. It’ll take forever for her to calm them down. (Maybe they’ll visit Malon or Sidon soon so they can all take a well. She was hoping for Rito Village, she missed Tulin.)

Still, she couldn’t simply sit around and do nothing, so hours of struggling, deciphering strange symbols, avoiding monsters, and solving puzzles that seemed crafted to mock her lack of combat skill, she found herself in a new room.

This one was different. Unlike the others, it was lined floor to ceiling with mirrors on one wall. She took a step in, eyeing her tired reflection, hair messy and clothes disheveled.

She looked a mess.

…Eh, what else was new?

Looking around, the room itself sadly offered no obvious clues.

No symbols, no markings, just switches through out the room in an odd manner. She walked toward one of them, pressed it, and waited.

Nothing.

Puzzled, she glanced around, feeling a surge of frustration. Her reflection stared back, and for a moment, it almost seemed like it was staring back at her.

She shook her head, dismissing it as exhaustion.

(Y/N) limped around the room, a sharp sting pulsed from a scrape on her leg, reminding her of how close she’d come to being caught in one of the traps in the previous rooms.

Frustration gnawed at her, but she was too tired to figure out another approach (all she really wanted to do was sleep but she didn’t know if she was under a time limit so she refused to take a break.) so she turned and began to pace, her mind muddled.

She didn’t notice at first, but as she moved, there was a slight lag in her reflection.

Almost like someone was attempting to stay in sync with her.

When she stopped suddenly to wipe sweat from her forehead, her reflection took an extra heartbeat to do the same.

In her exhaustion, she barely registered it, chalking it up to her weary, overstimulated mind playing catch up.

She kept trying, over and over, to find a way to trigger the switches. Her body felt like lead, and her thoughts swirled in circles, too frazzled to make sense of the oddities around her.

After what felt like an eternity, something nagged at the edge of her consciousness.

She was about to try the switches again when a flicker of sudden movement in the mirror caught her eye. She stopped, staring at her reflection, really looking at it this time.

The reflection stared back with the same tired expression. She eyed it for some time, but then closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

“You’re losing it. Just finish this up and you can get to bed.” She muttered to herself.

When she took a step back to move towards the next switch, her reflection didn’t quite mirror her. Instead, it stepped forward. (Y/N) froze, having caught its movements, watching closely.

Cautiously, She tested it again, taking a step left; her reflection stepped right.

Right towards a switch that (y/n) herself wasn’t currently near.

With hesitation, she moved her hand so her reflection reached for the switch, and she made motion like she was activating the switch and with surprise watched as the switch both in the reflection and out of it were pressed down.

After a few tries, and getting a few switched to stay down before she messed up, she realized this might be the solution.

With cautious optimism, she began experimenting, watching as her reflection seemed to interact with parts of the room she couldn’t reach.

She started moving carefully, mimicking the steps she thought would activate mechanisms on the other side of the room, using her reflection’s actions to interact with the room’s switches.

After what felt like an eternity, and several missteps, she managed to press down all the necessary switches.

With a creak and a soft rumble, the door at the far end of the room swung open.

Relief surged through her, and she slumped against the wall, barely able to believe she’d managed to clear it. She took a shaky breath, the tension in her shoulders easing as she staggered toward the exit.

She hoped the others weren’t panicking too much.

——-

——

A man bolted through the twisted, desolate forest, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The once proud trees were skeletal and lifeless, their branches clawing at the sky like silent sentinels as he stumbled over twisted roots and tried to evade his relentless pursuer.

Behind him, a snarl was heard that sent a shiver down his spine.

The large Wolf was at his heels, tearing through the trees with bloodthirsty determination.

The man dared a glance over his shoulder, only to see glowing, predatory eyes fixated on him, burning with an intensity that promised retribution.

A sharp growl echoed through the trees, closer than before.

Heart pounding, the man pushed himself harder, ducking beneath low, hanging branches, hoping he could reach the old ruins he’d stumbled upon earlier. If he could lose the Wolf there, he might have a chance to slip back into the cover of darkness and vanish.

But every escape route was cut off by the Wolf’s relentless pursuit. The massive Wolf barely slowed, weaving through the underbrush with an agility that belied his size.

The Wolf’s fangs flashed in the moonlight as he snapped at the man’s heels, forcing him to stumble and regain his footing in desperation.

All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rustling of dead leaves beneath his feet, and the increasingly menacing growls from behind him.

Every direction felt suffocatingly bleak. He chanced a glance back, hoping to see distance between himself and his pursuer, but fate had other plans.

Suddenly, the pounding of hooves echoed through the darkness. He turned forward just in time to see a powerful figure atop a steed blocking his path. His single eye sharp and cold, his gaze unyielding. Behind him, his companion perched with ease, an arrow nocked and drawn in his bow, the sharp tip aimed directly at the man.

The man skidded to a halt, every muscle in his body taut with panic.

Cornered, he quickly raised a hand, gathering what little magic he could muster.

His fingers crackled with dark energy, and with a desperate cry, he hurled a blast toward the ground, sending up a gust of dirt at the two and creating a fleeting gap between himself and his captors.

He stumbled through the opening, sprinting forward, his lungs burning with renewed hope. He only managed several feet, however, before his escape was abruptly cut off.

A wall of ice erupted in front of him, glistening and deadly. The cold bit into his skin as the ice solidified, forming an unyielding barrier.

He turned, wide-eyed, only to see another one approaching a few paces behind him, holding an ice rod with grim determination in his eyes. His face was set in an expression of pure, seething anger.

Legend’s grip on the rod was tight. He took a step forward, his boots crunching over the frost covered ground as the ice wall stretched higher, trapping the man in a freezing cage.

The man’s gaze darted frantically from Legend to the others, searching for any remaining avenue of escape.

But Time, still seated on Epona, watched him with a steely gaze, and Wild, with his bow drawn, made it clear that there was no mercy to be given.

The man staggered, his monstrous features flickering back to his human guise as he dropped to his knees before a pair of boots, a sword swiftly pointed at his chest.

He clasped his hands together as he looked up at the person before him, a look of desperate pleading on his face, trying to mask the terror in his eyes.

“Please… spare me,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “I was only following orders. I—I didn’t want to harm anyone, not really. I was manipulated against my will! Let me go, and I swear you’ll never see me again.”

Hyrule watched him in silence, his sword still aimed at the man’s chest. His expression was cold, unreadable, unmoved by the pathetic display before him.

After a pause, Hyrule’s gaze hardened, and he spoke in a voice tinged with quiet scorn.

“Spare you?” he murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. “I’ve been hunted by monsters like you my since I killed your master. Do you think my time away would make me forget the monsters hiding behind a human face?”

The man’s face faltered, but he kept his guise, his hands trembling. “I—I was only—”

Hyrule narrowed his eyes, snapping his fingers, summoning a crackling bolt of lightning that struck the man’s body.

The man screamed, his human facade breaking for a moment to reveal his true, hideous form beneath.

“Where is she, servant of Ganon” Hyrule demanded, his voice steady, unforgiving. “Where is the girl you took?”

The servant shuddered, but when he looked up again, a bitter smile twisting his human guise to something monstrous. “You can torture me all you want, hero, but you’ll never find her. My comrades will come for me, and when they do—”

Another snap of his fingers and the servant screamed again.

The servant sneered despite its trembling form, an arrogant grin twisting his lips as he regained some semblance of composure. “You think you’ve won, hero?” he spat, his voice laced with mockery. “You may have me cornered, but Ganon’s power will rise again, and when it does, I’ll be the one standing over your broken body.”

He let out a laugh, cold and confident,

Yet Hyrule did not seemed phased.

Suddenly something heavy thudded to the ground before the servant.

Laughter fading as his gaze dropped, and he saw several severed, bloodied monster heads rolling to a stop at his feet, their lifeless eyes staring back at him. His smirk wavered as he recognized his comrades, though he quickly forced it back, trying to hide his unease.

The servant’s arrogance remained, until a growl reminded him of the beast that chased him all this time.

Fur matted with dirt, leaves, and splats of monster blood.

Blue eyes gleamed as he padded forward, dragging a struggling, terrified human in his jaws.

With a strong jerk of his head, the wolf tossed the human to the ground before the servant, his fangs bared and eyes aimed at their throat.

The servant involuntarily flinched back, his face paling as Warriors stepped into view. The captain’s gaze was cold, and he glanced between the servant and its cowering ally.

“So,” Warriors remarked, his tone dripping with mockery, “these are the allies you seemed so confident about?” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

The servant’s arrogance faltered, but he tried to steel himself, shifting back to his human guise, though the nervous gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

Hyrule took a step closer, his sword still aimed directly at the servant’s chest, his expression as cold and unforgiving as stone.

“Last chance,” Hyrule said, his voice dangerously calm. “Where is the girl you kidnapped? Tell me, or you’ll meet a worse fate than your comrades.”

The servant’s eyes darted to the still faces of the severed monster heads, a flicker of fear breaking through his composure. But he kept his mouth shut, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Hyrule’s gaze sharpened, and without a word, he gave a small nod to Wolfie. With a low growl, the wolf lunged forward and tore into the human’s neck, savagely tearing a chunk off without hesitation.

Blood soaked the ground, the servant’s face paling as he watched the blood spill out from his convulsing ally.

Warriors, expression unchanging, approached and swiftly ended the human’s suffering with a single, decisive strike, his blade piercing their skull with a sickening crunch.

“…huh…I don’t think I got the man’s name.” The servant heard him mutter.

Hyrule turned his gaze back to the servant, his eyes cold and unyielding. “Now, one last time,” he said, his voice as frigid as the air around them. “Where is she?”

The servant swallowed hard, his confidence shattered as he stared at the heroes surrounding him.

The servant swallowed hard, his once-defiant smirk twisting into something more uncertain as he glanced between Hyrule’s cold gaze and the lifeless body of his ally sprawled at his feet. His voice trembled as he stammered, “Y-You… you can’t kill me if you want to know where the girl is!”

A low, menacing snarl rumbled through the clearing as Wolfie’s blue eyes fixed on the servant, his teeth bared, each slow step forward an unspoken threat.

The servant’s confidence wavered further, his eyes widening as Wolfie came closer, fangs glinting in the dim light.

“Wolfie. Stand down,” came Time’s calm, commanding voice.

Wolfie stopped, his growl still low in his throat, but he didn’t take his eyes off the servant. The monster let out a shaky, nervous laugh, attempting to cling to what little advantage he thought he had.

“If you want to know where she is,” the servant said, his voice wavering but laced with a weak, desperate arrogance, “you’ll have to let me live. I’ll tell you nothing if I’m dead.”

The heroes exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable, while the servant’s feeble laughter echoed in the silence. He thought he’d secured his leverage, convinced he’d forced their hand.

But Hyrule’s gaze remained icy, unbothered by the servant’s feigned confidence, as if weighing his options with a detached patience that only unnerved the creature further.

Hyrule took a slow, almost unnervingly casual step forward, his eyes fixed on the servant.

There was something unsettling in the way he looked down at the creature, as if he could see right through the guise, peeling back every lie, every trick, and seeing the monster true face beneath.

His sword crackled with magic, the fire creeping down the blade in flickers of light that danced in the darkened forest.

“You know, I’ve spent most of my time as a Hero being hunted by creatures like you,” Hyrule murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet each word seemed to linger, chilling the air. “Monsters that crawl out from under Ganon’s shadow, pretending to be human, to be kind. Just so they can hunt me down. They play their little games, slipping into disguises, deceiving… lying.” His gaze seemed to bore into the servant’s soul. “You’re all the same, thinking it’ll hide the fact that you won’t stop until my corpse is presented to your master.

He frowned further, “But despite your efforts I’m still alive. So do you really think I’ll just take your words at face value?”

The servant’s sneer faltered, but he quickly forced an arrogant grin, clinging to his act. “You need me,” he said, his voice wavering. “If you want to see the girl again, you’ll let me leave. I’m the only one who knows where she is.”

But as he spoke, a presence appeared behind him, and his bravado wavered. Legend approached with a calm, cold demeanor, his gaze fixed on the servant as he tapped one of his ring covered fingers against the ice rod in his hand, a slow, rhythmic motion that seemed to echo through the silence.

The servant’s grin faded entirely as Legend circled him, finally coming to stand before him, his eyes hard and unreadable. The faint clink of his ring tapping against the ice rod was the only sound.

“Clever plan,” Legend said, his voice low and calm, a chill lacing each word. “Planting your human allies to provoke the monsters, stirring things up just enough to create chaos.” He tilted his head, his gaze unwavering as he continued tapping his finger on the ice rod. “And then, of course, there’s you. Waiting until just the right moment to take her, knowing she’s important to us.”

He looked and nodded towards Hyrule, “I can see why you consider them a threat and nuisance.”

The servant’s arrogant expression crumbled further, but he kept his jaw clenched, his eyes darting between Hyrule’s unsettling stare and Legend’s cold gaze.

“And did you genuinely think,” Legend continued, his voice as sharp as a blade, “that we wouldn’t have considered the possibility? That we wouldn’t be prepared for one of Ganon’s creatures trying to steal her away?”

Legend’s voice trailed off, his cold, unblinking gaze fixed on the servant, who was now visibly shaken, his confident facade crumbling under the weight of Hyrule’s unsettling stare and Legend’s calm, piercing words.

The servant’s arrogance faltered as his breathing quickened, his eyes darting desperately, looking for any escape.

Then, a sudden rustle caught Wolfie’s attention. His ears perked up, his gaze shifting past the servant, alert and focused.

Just then, Wind’s voice cut through the silence, the young hero sprinting toward the group. Sky followed closely behind, slightly breathless as he called out, “We found out where she is!”

The servant’s face paled, panic flashing across his features as the words registered in his head. His eyes snapped back to Hyrule and Legend, who watched him with a deadly calm.

“Seems you’ve lost your leverage,” Hyrule murmured, his tone low and almost mocking, a faint, unnerving smile tugging at his lips.

Legend, still tapping his ring-less finger against the ice rod, allowed a slow, grim smile to creep onto his face. Without another word, he raised the rod, cold energy shimmering in his hand as he prepared to freeze the creature in his tracks.

But the servant’s eyes gleamed with a final, desperate resolve.

Just as Legend began to cast, the servant raised his hand, whispering the incantation under his breath. With a surge of magic, light burst around him in a blinding flash.

The heroes recoiled, squinting against the glow, which began to shift erratically, crackling with strange, distorted energy.

A strange, twisted sound echoed through the forest, a dissonant hum that grew louder until it abruptly cut off.

As the light faded, silence fell over the clearing once more. The servant was gone.

But lying on the ground where he’d stood, blood pooling around it, was a severed arm, its fingers still twitching, the botched remnants of a teleportation spell gone horribly wrong.

“Well…” Wild says as he puts his bow away. “That was unfortunate.”

“You think he’s still alive somewhere?” Twilight asks, having shifted back.

“Perhaps, but with an injury like that? Not for long. Then again it is a monster.” Warriors mutters as Wind and Sky approach.

“You said you located her?” Time asks, moving the discussion to the most important matter.

Sky nods, “Four is currently looking for a way in as the entrance has been sealed off.”

“It’s a distance away, it’ll take a while to reach there.”

“Then we best make haste. Let’s move.”

——-

——-

The group regrouped with Four at the edge of the dense forest, where he was examining the cracked stones and charred remains of what must have been an ancient entryway, the dungeon a distance away.

Four looked up, his expression serious. “The entrance to the dungeon was destroyed,” he reported, nodding toward the rubble. “Sealed with magic. Something powerful must have triggered it. I couldn’t find a direct way in, but I took note of some lingering trails. They lead down toward a back path.”

The others exchanged glances, concern etched on their faces. If the entrance was blocked, it left her with few options for escape.

After some quick discussion, they moved together, heading toward the ruins of the dungeon’s entrance, their steps quickening with urgency.

But as they neared the foot of the crumbling stairway, a soft glow appeared above the dungeon entrance, illuminating the darkness with a gentle, pulsing light.

They halted, watching in stunned silence as the ball of light floated down to rest on the ground, growing brighter for a moment before it faded.

And there, standing in its place, was (Y/N), blinking and rubbing her eyes as though adjusting to the sudden light.

“(Y/N)!” Wind exclaimed, breaking the spell of shock. In a heartbeat, they all rushed to her, their expressions a mix of relief and astonishment.

Hyrule’s eyes filled with worry as he reached for her shoulders to steady her, while Wild checked for any signs of injury.

“Are you alright?” Time asked, his voice heavy with concern. “Are you hurt?”

(Y/N) looked a bit dazed but managed a tired smile. “I’m okay. I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Without hesitation, they led her away from the dungeon’s ominous entrance, moving quickly to distance themselves from any potential threats still lurking within.

Hyrule scanned the area ahead until he spotted a small, concealed cave where they could rest. Once inside, he knelt beside her, carefully tending to the scratches and bruises she’d collected, while Wild rummaged through his pack, pulling out a flask of water and a prepared bowl of food, pressing both into her hands.

“Here, you must be starving,” Wild said softly, watching as she gratefully accepted.

As she ate, they gathered around her, their curiosity mixed with lingering concern. Time was the first to speak up. “How did you escape? What happened in there?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, steadying herself as she recalled her journey. “It was… something alright,” she admitted, a slight shiver in her voice. “The dungeon had rooms filled with monsters, and I couldn’t fight them, so I had to sneak around and hide. It was nerve-wracking, but I managed to make my way through.”

“Wait…” Four said, eyes furrowed, “But I made you a spear, and I know Legend had it charmed to shrink.”

(y/n) hesitated, “It…” she sighed, “It broke a week ago when I was practicing with it.”

“What??”

“Well you guys kept saying you were busy and I wanted to practice-“

“Your weapon broke and you didn’t TELL me? You’ve been walking around without a way to defend yourself this whole time??” Four had not spent weeks having arguments with everyone in regards to her training just for her NOT to have one of his weapons at hand.

“I’m sorry. I was stupid I didn’t think it would matter if I held back on telling you for a week or two.”

Four’s mouth was in a firm line, as if he was withholding a scream, all he did was wave his hand at her.

(y/n) ducked her head, knowing exactly what he was motioning to.

This whole situation was really making her eat her words.

The others listened, exasperated and frustrated, but very grateful she’d made it out despite her lack of weapons and combat skills.

“What about the dungeon boss?” Warriors asked suddenly, brows knit in confusion. “No doubt there had been one. How did you get past it?”

(Y/N) paused, looking genuinely puzzled. “That’s the thing… when I finally reached the main chamber, it was already dead. It was just…lying there, slowly vanishing.”

Their expressions were as confused as her’s, before any of them could ask further, (Y/N) reached into her pouch and pulled out a small, shining object.

“Oh, and there’s this,” she added, holding up a heart container, its faint glow illuminating the cave.

She looked down at it, her brow furrowing in thought. “I have no idea what to do with this.”

“. . .”

“…I’m gonna keep it though.”

Sighs, both fond and exasperated were heard all around the group.

———

———

The servant reappeared in a flash, collapsing onto his knees, his single remaining hand clutching the bloody stump of his severed arm. Pain seared through him, and he gritted his teeth, rage twisting his face as he spat out curses between gasping breaths.

“Those cursed heroes,” he snarled, his voice trembling with fury and agony. “I swear… I’ll have my vengeance… they’ll all pay for this…”

He took several deep breaths, steadying himself, and finally lifted his head, blinking through the pain as he tried to orient himself.

The world around him was dark, an eerie emptiness stretching in every direction. Shadows flickered along unseen walls, as though he had stumbled into another dimension entirely. Confusion mingled with his fury as he turned in place, searching for any sign of familiarity

“Is this…?”

Then, he froze.

In the darkness, a pair of glowing eyes appeared, twin points of orange light that pierced through the shadows and fixed on him with an unsettling intensity.

The servant jerked back in surprise, scrambling backward and landing hard on his back, his pulse racing as he looked up at the figure hovering in the air before him.

It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Their head was a carved pumpkin, hollow eyes glowing with an eerie light that pulsed with every subtle movement.

A jagged grin was carved into the pumpkin’s face, creating an unnervingly cheerful expression.

The figure was draped in a loosely flowing tunic, dark fabric adorned with faint, shimmering patterns that seemed to ripple as they floated in the air. Their arms, slender but steady, rested on their stomach as their shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Their entire being exuded a mischievous energy, a playful malice that somehow felt both childlike and ancient.

They leaned back as if reclining on air, their form bobbing slightly as if suspended by invisible threads. Their mirthful shaking only added to the strange, almost surreal image.

The servant’s breath caught in his throat, unable to process what he was seeing. He’d encountered many dark creatures in Ganon’s service, but this… this was something else entirely. Theirs eyes, those glowing, mirthful eyes, seemed to see right through him, dissecting him with a kind of glee that bordered on predatory.

The pumpkin headed figure tilted their head, their jagged grin widening as their laughter finally bubbled forth in a soft, airy sound that echoed strangely in the darkened space.

They didn’t speak, but the amusement in their eyes was clear as they watched him struggle, drinking in his fear and confusion with a curiosity.

The servant scrambled backward, his remaining hand trembling as he pointed at the strange figure hovering before him. “Who… who are you?” he demanded, his voice wavering, a hint of desperation breaking through his anger. “What are you?”

The pumpkin headed figure tilted their head, their glowing eyes narrowing in mischievous delight. They giggled, a high, distorted sound that echoed through the darkened void, seeming to bounce off invisible walls. Leaning forward, they tapped a finger to the carved jagged smile on their face, as if they were contemplating his question.

“Ohhh, naughty servant,” They crooned, their voice echoed strangely, like two voices layered atop each other. “So naughty to try and harm her. You put my precious [WARMTH], in danger.” Their voice shifted, soft yet carrying that haunting dual echo. The distorted voice almost seemed to hiss, as if they were sharing a secret. “She’s [LIGHT] and my home, my dearest friend, my lovely [WARMTH/HEART].”

The servant’s confusion deepened, and his face twisted with frustration. “What are you babbling about? Who, who is this…whatever noise you just made!”

The figure giggled again, spinning lazily in the air as they floated closer, their hollow, glowing eyes fixed on him. “Silly servant, doesn’t know, doesn’t see,” they hummed, tapping their chin thoughtfully. “Always hiding, always creeping, always causing trouble for my dear, my [HOME], my [WARMTH].” Their tone turned almost sing-song, as though they were teasing him with a secret he would never understand.

The servant’s face twisted in anger, though he couldn’t hide the hint of fear creeping into his gaze. He clutched his severed arm, his voice faltering. “Are you with those heroes? You dare mock me, Iwas doing Ganon’s will! Soon he will-“

“Ohhh,” They interrupted, their voice dipping into a mocking sing song, the distorted tone stretching the words while the familiar undercurrent resonated with a warmth that felt misplaced. “Hiding behind big, scary names doesn’t make you any less naughty.” They floated closer, their form drifting effortlessly.

“And Naughty Master’s orders or not, you tried to hurt her, tried to scare my precious warmth.” Their eyes glowed brighter, a spark of something darker flaring within them. “I can’t just let that slide.”

They leaned in, their glowing eyes inches from his face, their voice dropping to a near-static filled whisper. “Now, little servant… what shall we do with someone so naughty?”

The servant stumbled back.

“I know…” they said, “let’s have you help me hm?”

The servant blinked, disoriented, as he found himself suddenly in another room, the dim light casting twisted shadows along the walls.

The air was thick, almost oppressive, and he couldn’t remember how he had arrived here. His breath hitched as he turned, only to find the floating figure nearby, watching him in eerie silence.

“Show me how to solve it,” they said, their voice a strange layering of two tones, one gentle and cheerful, the other distorted, dissonant.

The servant sneered, regaining a shred of his confidence. “I don’t answer to you,” he spat, turning away defiantly. “Figure it out yourself.”

But as he moved, he could feel them watching him. He dared a glance back, and his stomach dropped. The jagged, carved grin on their pumpkin head seemed to have stretched wider than before, an unnatural curve that seemed to swallow the lower half of their face.

Their eyes, once soft glows within the hollows, had shrunk to tiny, piercing pinpricks that stared at him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.

He blinked, hoping it was a trick of the dim light. But when he looked again, the effect had only deepened.

The sockets of their eyes seemed to darken, stretching back into an endless abyss that held an unnerving, hungry stillness. The light in their gaze flickered, almost pulsing, as if feeding off his growing dread.

A cold sweat broke out on the servant’s skin as he tried to tear his gaze away, but he couldn’t look away from that monstrous face, which seemed to shift and distort the longer he stared.

It was as though the very room had warped around them, a quiet darkness that coiled and thickened, trapping him in place.

The servant’s defiance wavered, his breath coming faster. But they didn’t move.

They only tilted their head, their hollow gaze boring into him, as though daring him to defy them again. The silence pressed in, each beat of his heart growing louder, his confidence dissolving when the figure raised their arm and tapped his chest with an unnaturally long clawed finger.

“ShOw mE hOw To soLVe IT,” they repeated, their voice barely a whisper now, yet somehow suffocating, filling the space like smoke. The words echoed, seeming to layer over themselves, wrapping around him like chains.

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “Fine… fine.”

they drifted silently beside the servant as he begrudgingly explained how to navigate each of the dungeon’s treacherous rooms.

With every riddle and hidden switch, he muttered instructions, glancing nervously at the eerie figure hovering by his side.

Occasionally, after several rooms, they would vanish without a word, leaving him alone with nothing but the chilling memory of their carved, jagged grin.

But just as his nerves would settle, they would reappear, as though stepping out from the shadows themselves, their eyes glowing faintly.

“Show me how to solve the next room,” they would say, their voice reverberating in that unsettling, dual echo that burrowed into his mind like an unwanted memory.

And each time, he would comply, clinging to the hope that if he obeyed, they might eventually let him go.

Finally, they reached the last chamber. The servant glanced around, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

This had to be it. He’d played along long enough, solved all their little puzzles. He turned to them, glaring as he clenched his remaining fist.

“You’ve gotten what you wanted,” he demanded, his voice filled with simmering anger. “Now let me go.”

They tilted their head, that carved smile widening as a soft, mirthful giggle echoed through the chamber. It was as if the laugh was layered over itself, a mockery threaded with something darker. “Oh… you really thought you could just leave?”

The servant’s face contorted with fury. “You tricked me!” he spat, his voice rising with fury. “You miserable, hollow headed freak!” His insults grew more vicious as he cursed them, his voice echoing through the chamber.

But his words died in his throat when the ground beneath his feet began to rumble.

Dust and debris shook loose from the ceiling, and he stumbled backward, wide eyed, as a massive, hulking shadow fell from the darkness above, landing with a thunderous crash in the center of the room.

The creature was monstrous, twisted and grotesque, with layers of spiked armor and muscles rippling beneath jagged scales.

Its eyes glowed with a vicious, crimson light, and it let out a deafening roar, revealing several rows of razor sharp teeth that gleamed like jagged stones in its massive maw.

The servant’s anger turned to elation, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of the monstrous creature. “Yes!” he laughed, loud and triumphant. “This beast was born from Master Ganon’s lingering power! I can feel it!! It was born to obey me, one of Ganon’s own loyal servants!”

He threw his arm out in a commanding gesture, confidence flooding back into his voice as he began to order the creature.

“Attack that thing! Tear it apart!” he commanded, pointing directly at the still, floating form., who only watched him with that unnervingly wide grin, unmoving.

But before the servant could finish his command, the beast turned with shocking speed, its eyes locking onto him instead. In a single, fluid motion, it surged toward him, its enormous jaws opening wide.

The servant’s face only had a single moment to twist in horror as the creature’s mouth closed around him, those jagged teeth sinking into his flesh, tearing into him with savage force.

His scream echoed through the chamber, swallowed up in an instant as the beast shook him like prey, his body limp and helpless in its grip.

Through it all, the spirit hovered in place, their carved grin wide and still, a flicker of amusement in their hollow eyes as they watched the scene unfold.

They hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. They simply watched, silent and smiling, as the servant’s desperate cries faded into nothingness.

The beast devoured the servant, its monstrous jaws crunching through bone and flesh until there was nothing left. It let out a low, satisfied growl, blood dripping from its maw as it turned its gaze toward the figure still hovering nearby.

Not!(y/n) simply giggled, an amused, lilting sound that echoed strangely through the chamber. The beast let out another roar and charged at them, its heavy, clawed feet pounding against the ground with enough force to shake the stone beneath them.

But as the beast lunged, jaws wide, Not!(y/n) raised their hand in a casual, almost bored gesture, waving their hand upward as if lifting something delicate.

The massive creature was suddenly pulled up into the air, its charge halted mid stride as it dangled helplessly, limbs thrashing in vain.

“Silly creature,” Not!(y/n) chuckled, their voice echoing in that eerie, doubled tone. “You need to go away now.”

They extended their hand, fingers splayed, and slowly began to close it into a fist.

The beast writhed, its roars growing more frantic, louder, as an invisible force seemed to constrict it from within.

Muscles strained, scales cracked, and the creature’s once menacing snarls turned into desperate screams as Not!(y/n)’s hand continued to close.

With a gentle pulling motion, they clenched their fist, and a pulsing orb of energy, the beast’s core, was ripped from its body.

The creature let out a final, agonized roar as its core was torn free, leaving it a lifeless shell. Not!(y/n) released their grip, and both the core and the creature’s massive body fell to the ground with a heavy, echoing thud.

The chamber fell silent, save for the faint hum of energy from the discarded core. Not!(y/n) hummed to themselves, floating in a whimsical motion, their hands clasped behind their back as they bobbed up and down, as if enjoying a gentle breeze.

With a lighthearted twirl, they turned to face the dungeon’s main door. The twisted grin on their pumpkin face remained fixed as the door slowly creaked open.

As they faded into the shadows, (Y/N) stumbled through the now open doorway, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

—————

————

—————

Hours had passed, and the cave was quiet, save for the soft crackle of a small fire and the occasional shifting of the heroes as they kept watch.

(Y/N) lay on her bed mat, wrapped in fresh bandages and dressed in a change of clothes, her breathing soft and even as she slept, the day’s trials finally catching up with her.

Some of the group rested near her, their eyes heavy with exhaustion, while others sat farther away, keeping vigilant watch over the cave entrance, ensuring no threats would disturb her rest.

In the dim light, a faint shadow appeared, barely more than a whisper against the cave walls. The figure drifted closer, moving soundlessly over the ground until they reached (Y/N)’s side.

The softest of chuckles echoed, and the shadow leaned down, an almost tender touch as a faint hand reached out, patting her head with a gentleness that seemed strangely out of place.

Not!(Y/N) twirled in slow, whimsical circles above her, their form flickering and fading in and out of the dim light, as if dancing to a melody only they could hear.

Their shoulders shaking as silent giggles escaped them, as they watched over her for a long, quiet moment.

Then, just as silently as they had appeared, they faded back into the shadows, vanishing completely.

None of the heroes stirred, none awake aware of the brief visit that had happened.

And (y/n) slept on.

[emblazons]

"This is only the beginning— the beginning of the end."

STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGES S04E09 - The Piggyback (Part II of II)

[kkoct-ik]

PLEASE explain ur shin DID thoughts I wanna know so bad

boy am i glad you asked (LONG POST)

prefacing by saying the sou DID headcanon is very special to me to the point that i talk about it as if it is canon. i know it is not canon. i'm not arguing that this is what these moments mean, i'm arguing this is an interpretation that i really enjoy, and this interpretation of sou's character speaks to the DID experience Unnervingly well.

i use sou & shin interchangebly, they are parts of the same person, but generally i say sou for during the death game and shin for before.

so. first.

the important bit — sou's dissociation from shin tsukimi

during his first trial, shin tsukimi is given the winning percentages. there he learns that 'shin tsukimi' cannot survive the death game.

to escape shin tsukimi's weakness and inevitable death, shin abandons him, and instead takes on the name and certain characteristics of midori, to build a new self — sou hiyori. he disowns his identity as shin tsukimi to psychologically escape from his fate, so that he can psychologically survive in this moment and keep living.

a part of DID is the repression and disowning of the weak and hurting parts of you, and in turn outwardly becoming & functioning as someone or something else that can survive.

sou very literally dissociates from the weak parts of his identity and becomes & functions as someone else to survive.

and that's the absolute basis of the headcanon. turn back now if you want to. the rest is me slowly losing my sanity.

me slowly losing my sanity

so. listen. here's the thing. theres a lot more in sous behaviour that you could interpret as DID if you know where to look.

it's not quite as simple as "there are two of him: shin tsukimi (who was weak, easily manipulated, and incredibly scared) and sou hiyori (who is not that)". there are quite a few more moving parts to this guy, and also a lot of grey areas where his identity breaks down and develops over the course of the game.

the sou we first meet is timid, but not particularly vulnerable: polite, but observant. you get the vibe he is silently taking note of everything you do, because he is. during the first main game, he takes control of the discussion by claiming to be the Keymaster, both securing his survival, and giving himself a level of control over the discussions.

when the information he found on the laptop and his attempts to throw suspicion on Sara causes everyone to doubt him, he begins to panic. he brings up the moment Nao hit him - something that must have been triggering to him, considering what defines 'sou hiyori' is that he is not weak like shin tsukimi is.

i like to think in this moment a subconcious part of him realises that the present sou hiyori is not removed enough from shin tsukimi to be free of danger. despite his distance, he's weak enough to be attacked - he could have been killed, and now he's at the mercy of the masses.

his protective parts and mechanisms need to kick in at 200%. so they do.

under the pressure sou snaps and goes into a a very aggressive protector part. sou projects outwards his vulnerability complex, calling everybody else 'weaklings' who are going to die (reinforcing his dissociation from shin tsukimi). he suddenly openly rejects the value of trust and human cooperation, in an attempt to make himself seem untouchable and entirely in control.

section: sou's protector part

i love this guy so i marked out a section just to break down his protective mechanisms. this is a direct continuation from the paragraph i just ended.

after his first instance in the first main game, sou's protector part (easily spotted by his fucking mastermind persona) appears multiple times to cover up moments of vulnerability. it makes him out to be a liar, but it also makes him seem incredibly calculating and dangerous, which works just fine for him.

during the token trade game, sou 'fakes' amnesia to avoid being singled out for his actions during the first main game. he reverts back to his polite & timid demeanour for a portion of the chapter, and also sleeps for a large portion of it (due to his sickness). but to allow himself this leeway (either to play up or let slip his weakness) he employs protective mechanisms: he enthusiastically tells Sara that his memory loss was a lie, and that he's been playing them all for fools. he intentionally gives her the impression that every moment of weakness he has let slip or otherwise is part of an elaborate plot.

whether this is purely for the sake of managing how the person he fears most percieves him, or because in this part he is genuinely so disconnected from his vulnerable parts and weakness that he refuses to acknowledge it was real, is up to interpretation to me. but i do love how many layers of lies and contradiction he symbolises.

(i choose to believe his amnesia was a genuine moment of vulnerability, because the scene makes me So Happy if i read it as a vulnerable part slipping through the cracks, who's entirely disconnected from the stressful events of the main game and is genuinely terrified. i like to think his later claim it was a lie was because he could not risk Sara genuinely witnessing his repressed weakness that he swore he disowned at the door. but i digress)

he has a similar 'moment of weakness' during the second main game, where he makes it more explicit that he is not necessarily him telling the truth when he says his earlier weakness was a lie. he relies on other's confusion and the fact people think he is one step ahead of them to protect himself.

he continues to employ his mastermind persona even after the shin tsukimi reveal - although its effect is somewhat lost now that everybody knows that he has vulnerable parts (and people he loves) to protect, and that his persona exists for their sake, not because it's his true personality.

mfw when the ego protection mechanism crumbles because i was vulnerable once and now my protector part hates me.

section: shadow sou

i was going to immediately follow onto shinai and what we can learn from him, but i want to clarify shadow sou first.

the long and short of it is i think he's the closest thing we have to a midori introject. while you could argue sou hiyori has introjected traits (which he most certainly does: he takes his name for christ's sake), i think shadow sou most explicitly takes after him, especially if you read soushin as an emotionally abusive relationship.

(lingo: what is an introject? an introject is an alter who represents internalised traits and figures. for example, if you had a personality who treated you like your mother treated you, and reinforces the beliefs you internalised from her, that would be an introject of your mother. they do not have to be accurate to the real person's personality; they only echo how you saw and internalised them.)

shadow sou speaks with sou like an familiar but condescending friend, comments on sou no longer being shin, and exists to reinforce shin's feeling of weakness. midori encourages shin to become the person you want to be; shadow sou is the one to pressure shin into becoming someone else. midori is a 'scary friend' of shin's, shadow sou physically frightens and attacks shin during his moment of panic.

as far as we know, we never meet shadow sou from Sara's point of view, so i interpret him as a more internal alter. there's a lot to play off with sou's / shin's / shadow sou's relationship: i think they are soooo cute. i just wanted to point out the similarities between him and midori.

section: shinaiiiiiiii: what can he tell us?

ok yaay onto shinai. although not strictly a version of sou (not his repressed weak personality, not his polite but wary personality, not his masterminding ego protection personality, and not his internal shadow self), because he is a computer program, he does give us a certain perspective on who sou used to be.

disclaimer: we know shinai was trained by midori's love poetry, and thus you can argue his personality could be slightly altered to be more suited to midori's purposes. for the sake of this section we will take things with a grain of salt: it's what shinai can suggest about shin, not tell.

shinai gives us the impression that shin tsukimi was polite, had somewhat low self esteem, and was conflicted on midori: on one hand, he scared him a lot, but on the other, he considered him close, and they spent a lot of time together.

during the maple boss fight, shinai sobs for midori to help him. i get the impression that despite being afraid of him, shin still relied on midori for security and reassurance (sou's lantern dialogue to corroborate).

my friend suggested that shinai's / sou's conflicting accounts (with part of him being afraid of midori, and the other seeking assurance from him) could in itself imply that shin (even before the game even began) is made up of two alters with opposing attachment styles. i dont disagree.

sou vs the shinai test data

this one will be short i promise.

i really like sou's morbid interest in the shinai test data. and i know the joke is that it's love poetry and sou is embarassed and repulsed by how midori saw him, especially now that he knows how cruel midori can be, but the scene also spoke to me as a dissociative person; there is nothing more viscerally uncomfortable than learning about things you did as a different personality. it messes with your brain, because it was you, but it also wasn't you - it can't be you, you don't remember it, and it's not the kind of thing you would do, but you did - and so your dissociative rejection signals go absolutely insane. so i like this tiny scene for personal reasons.

and thatse it (i think). i think i said it all.

tl;dr:

this is my headcanon :33 or well. a graphic i made a few months ago as i was solidifying the headcanon. some minor things ive changed my opinion on / perception of since but it gets the idea across.

that said i fully support any other interpreted sou hiyori systems. go fuckin wild. i spoke to a friend a bit ago about their personal DID sou take and i had so much fun.

thank you for hearing me out

[cadeloverforever]

Don't take the song into account xD, hello! I come with a headcanon and one shot? From black noir ll since chapter 7 left me 😦 There may be SPOILERS! (Although most likely yes :v, I don't know) (The reader is going to be human and the black noir will know about the romance with the original black noir by Vought or something like that)

╭═══════════ .❥. ═════════════╮

BLACK NOIR ll AND A LITTLE OF THE ORIGINAL BLACK NOIR HEADCANON

➹ We talked about how you started to suspect that the Noir you were sleeping with wasn't YOUR Noir.

What made you suspicious is that the first time you saw him after he was gone for a few days without explanation you hugged him, But he looked like he was confused, you didn't see his notebook where he wrote what he wanted to say.

"Earving? What's wrong? Did you lose your notebook?". After those words you looked at him a little worried and the "response" you received from him was a quick nod of the head.

➹ The other time he suspected you a little more was when he brought peanut chocolate, You knew he was allergic to it which seemed strange to you but you thought he just didn't read the label correctly and you just gave it to someone else.

➹ It seemed strange to see Noir still for a long time (he was asleep since Noir II is narcoleptic) and when you tried to talk to him he simply didn't respond, You could be asking him for his opinion on something and have the same situation.

"Hey? I was asking you something, are you feeling okay? Do you always do that lately" you said moving him a little, you watched him startle and just quickly shake his head.

➹ The day they told you that Noir wasn't him was when you brought him a beaver stuffed animal for your anniversary together, Noir didn't accept it and then cursed.

"I can't keep doing this shit, and before you say anything, I'm not the real Noir I don't know what happened to him, they just hired me to try to be him (I don't remember if the person who plays Noir knows what happened to Noir but we assume he doesn't) After that 'Noir' left, you were left wondering what happened to him, if he was still alive or if he just escaped... Without you

╰════════════ .❥. ════════════╯

[gutsby]

Bloodline

Pairing: Dark!Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: The General needs an heir.

Warnings: 18+. NONCON. FORCED IMPREGNATION. Unprotected p-in-v. Arranged marriage. Throatfucking. Face-slapping. Breeding kink. Praise and degradation. Age gap. Dacryphilia. Fear play. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: Silphium and pennyroyal (or ‘glechium’) were herbs commonly used for contraceptive purposes in ancient Rome.

Word count: 4.4k

You woke up knowing you were fucked.

In more ways than one: today brought your husband home from his latest campaign in Germania, and last week, your only batch of contraceptives was running low. Now, it was gone. You cursed the apothecary who had sworn she would procure your silphium drink before you were to see the General again, but presently, there was nothing more to be done. You had tracked your cycle and knew you were ovulating that week. You just hoped your husband would be too battle-weary and overwrought to seek a place in his bed, between your own legs, tonight.

‘Down’ came the order before the door to your chambers had even closed behind Marcus Acacius later that day.

Down meant he wanted you lying back.

Down meant your thighs had better be spread apart by the time he reached the bed. He wasn’t a patient man.

Down meant your meticulous menstrual contrivances had all been for nothing; you had been married to the General for almost a year, and in that time, you had promised yourself you would never bear him a child. While the only reason for your being forced to wed in the first place was to give him a son, you despised the idea of being the Emperor’s pawn. A vessel for the next awful bloodlusting boy to be born—you had been a present from your uncle Geta to Acacius, and ever since then, you had come to hate them both. You drank your herbal teas daily, without them ever knowing, and you feigned ignorance when, after months and months of the General’s best efforts, you never fell pregnant by him.

Today might very well be the day to change all that, if you had to judge by the look in your husband’s eyes, though.

The harsh, dark irises were alight as he approached you. Their gaze betrayed little more intrigue—or curiosity to know how you had been these last three weeks he was gone—than sheer lust. You could see it in his movements while he peeled his armor apart and drank your body in.

He shrugged the last scrap of metal and fabric away and climbed over you in bed. His motions were graceless, and his body was heavy. He smelled of dirt and blood.

“Wider,” he told you.

Wider your legs spread. He slipped between them, and with an affectionless, rough grip, he grabbed your wrist.

“Touch,” he commanded.

You obeyed that, too. Your fingers were guided to, and wrapped gingerly around, the thick, warm base you had come to know well since marrying Acacius. He pulsed proudly beneath your hand, and the grunt he gave said he was expecting this the whole long while he had been away. You stroked him slowly. Firmly. Contemplating.

“My love—” you started, low.

“Quiet.” Your husband’s voice swiftly supplanted yours.

It bid you to do as you were told, and open your mouth for nothing else but to pleasure the appendage you held.

You knew better than to speak in moments like these. But you also feared, for very good reason, that if you didn’t interject now, you may never get a chance to prevent this dreaded thing. It would only get harder.

He would only get harder.

“Husband,” you tried more warmly, stroking his cock as though you loved him, like weren’t repulsed by the thought of birthing his son. You forced your gaze up, too.

And no sooner had you done that when a hand landed across your face. Your cheek flamed; your skin bristled.

“My sweet wife insists on being heard, does she?” the General broke in, and you could tell it was through teeth, “Does it look like I’ve even begun to fuck you yet, girl?”

You shook your head that it didn’t. Your face stung, and you were about to look away when you felt the same hand that had delivered the last blow take your chin.

The General tilted it back up to his.

You felt him harden even more seeing tears start to well.

“Whatever it is, tell me after. I’ve waited too long for this.”

From his tone, you could tell that meant more than sex.

An heir.

He must have known you were withholding something.

Your hand moved quicker. More nervously. Worrying.

“Allow me to…to use my mouth, then. I-In other ways.” You hated even saying it. Your voice trembled as you did.

Silently, you braced yourself for another hit. Your wrist worked relentlessly, moving up and down the man’s shaft with little more intelligible thought in your head than the fear of being punished by him, when it stopped.

The General halted all movements of your hand. He eyed you once, uncaring, and then shook his head. The next thing you knew, you were being shoved off of the bed.

You never thought you would feel such relief sinking to your knees on the floor. You were good at this—could finish your husband off in under two minutes, easy—and for once, you were happy to feel the man’s fist in your hair. Holding you firm, guiding you fast, and being his normal gruff, callous self to force you onto his cock.

He filled your mouth quickly. Though it might not have meant much to a girl who had never seen, much less sucked, a dick in her life before becoming a wife, Marcus was big. He fit uncomfortably between your lips and stretched your jaw until it ached. At length, you let him move your face up and down, again and again, wetting his shaft with your slick, shiny, delicate strings of saliva. You almost felt grateful to be made to move so fast, so your tongue couldn’t get fully acquainted with his taste. You gagged lightly when he shoved you down to the base. Your eyes rolled back; his belly grazed your nose.

“You look better when I’m in you,” Marcus said coldly.

He dragged your head back, and you inhaled a breath. Your eyes rose to his, and he smiled—he saw tears again.

You blinked and let your expression fall limply, knowing how much he loved seeing you weak. You took the tip between the seam of your lips, and you kissed it once. Then you kissed it again. Your mind grew dizzy with the idea that you might actually get to swallow his load and be left alone the rest of the night if you only kept going.

You opened wider to do just that when next you heard:

“You’ll look better with my child inside you.”

As if galvanized by some sharp, unseen electric current, you wrapped your lips around his head. Fully. You tried enveloping the rest with your mouth, desperate to get your husband’s mind off of putting himself anywhere but at the back of your throat, and you hummed. The man above you gladly pushed himself further. You choked.

And just when you were about to force a breath through your nose, flatten your tongue and prepare to go deeper on the man you disliked most in this world, you felt him coax your gaze up to him. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. You had to blink once or twice to even see him. When you had, you found him beaming.

For once, the General’s gaze was soft as he watched you.

You felt him tug your hair forward, and your lips went with it. Your throat resisted at first, but then it relented. In just a few moments, he was sliding down your throat.

You felt powerless. Your husband seemed to know.

“We’ve been unlucky, haven’t we?” he asked.

Surely, the question was meant to be rhetorical, for you couldn’t move your mouth without gagging on his cock.

Instead, you blinked. More tears flowed down your face.

“Nearly a year of being my wife, and still no child.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve taken him for contrite.

He sounded like he could’ve been forlorn, but the tone he used was too smooth. Slow. His voice was like molasses, almost. And then he moved his hips and sank in deeper. Your throat opened because it had no say in the matter.

You blinked harder, and more tears fell.

Please cum, please cum, please cum—

“I have it on good authority that a girl your age should be as fertile as anything. It shouldn’t take this long to take.”

—just finish, just finish, just finish where you are.

Marcus shifted again, and this time, you couldn’t control the spasm in your throat. You just coughed, and sputtered, and gagged down his length. You jerked your head pathetically under his hold, and just barely were you able to steal a gasp of air. The man loosened up.

And though his touch was less tight, his voice almost soft, and his eyes as bright as they had ever been, the words that followed after struck your senses like a fire.

Practically searing the insides of your skull when it came:

“You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”

You would’ve liked to swallow, but your esophagus was too chock-full of cock. Your lips were stretched, tongue flattened along his length, and your cheeks were now glistening with tears—from the strain of your husband’s intrusion, for one, and the fear of what he might already know, for another. You felt the head of his cock slide deeper down your wet and velvety channel before carving a path back up. Its ascent was slow. Teasing.

The fingers that were threaded through your hair held your head in place as he withdrew all the way to the tip.

“Answer me, wife.”

When you hesitated, the General slapped you again. His cock fell out of your mouth, and you coughed reflexively.

“I-I-I don’t…I don’t know what—”

“Think harder.”

A hit was shortly delivered to the other side of your face. You flinched, and winced, and right before you tried answering again, you felt your jaw forced open for something else. Rather than being made to let words fill the space, your husband’s cock was thrust in. It went far.

Your mouth was leaking with drool now. You couldn’t contain the spit. If anything, the General seemed to enjoy that as he slid himself further. Then he grunted.

“Why is it I’ve filled you with enough cum to paint the fucking Coliseum, and you still haven’t give me a son?”

You gagged. Your hands flew to his strong, bare thighs to grab the flesh out of habit, and once again, he withdrew.

“Why?!”

“I don’t know!”

Of course you did.

Still, you shook your head and kept your gaze plastered on his, begging for some shred of lenience. If he’d had any within him, you reckoned you weren’t seeing it that day. Before you could stop him, the General forced his way back into your mouth, and shortly down your throat.

“I think you’re a lying—” He jerked his hips once, to stab the very back of that place, “—pathetic fucking whore.”

You tried to whine in protest, but the sound was shortly muffled by his cockhead gliding back and forth in that wet, fleshy passage. Its path was suffocating. Your eyes almost rolled back from how fucking awful he tasted.

Please, please, your nails scratched at his legs like some kind of wordless entreaty. Your gaze was glossy and wet.

You could scarcely muster the strength to meet his own, but when you did, you found your husband smiling back.

He slid out of your mouth, and you could breathe again.

“We’ll try once more,” he said, pulling you up to your feet by your armpits, like he might treat a toy he didn’t like. When you were standing upright between his legs, you felt a shudder pass through your frame, and you tried to hide it. He leaned in: “Why haven’t you given me a son?”

“My body must not be r-ready.”

Wrong answer, apparently.

He slapped you again.

By now, your face was blooming with pain. Your skin stung, and your eyes burned, and you could still feel a trace of his precum trickling down your throat, and you hated him so much. But you had to be stoic. Insensitive.

Inventive.

“Silphium,” you stuttered out, before swallowing the awful tang you sensed and recollecting yourself, barely, “Pennyroyal, too. I hear there are…concoctions that help to make the womb more…more…hospitable, I believe.”

You were lying through your fucking teeth. Knowing your husband was far too dense and war-crazed to have ever consulted an apothecary in his life, and hoping he’d be stupid enough to accept whatever it was you said. When it came to things concerning your health, he rarely cared.

You swallowed hard and for once, felt a little more stable.

Then you were shoved onto the bed again, and any semblance of composure was sucked from your bones. You fell pathetically against the plush, satin covers of maroon and gold and were prone for no more than two seconds before the General started tearing your clothes.

“We’ll see,” he said simply.

He flipped you onto your back, and you writhed without really meaning to. You were operating on pure instinct, feeling a man nearly three times your age moving his hands across your front and ripping fabric left and right. It wasn’t fair. You could hold your tongue if he hit you hard enough, but your muscles fared worse when it came to constraining their natural inclinations. You kicked your feet, you squealed, then you begged him—

“Please, stop! I’m not ready yet! I can’t— I can’t— STOP!”

This was just like your wedding night. Only worse, because you knew exactly what lay in store with harrowing clarity and certainty. The General grinned.

“Pennyroyal, huh?” he sneered, yanking your clothes away while you thrashed and tried to push his hands off, “Is that what my wife needs to be ‘ready’ to bear sons?”

“Yes!”

“Silphium?”

“Please, please.”

There were fresh tears brimming in your eyes when he peeled the last scrap of covering off of your body and shoved you back down. You were shaking, and he was smiling, and as much as you knew the man hated being defied, you reckoned he took pleasure from the chase. Seeing the moisture well up and spill, feeling you crawl back in bed, meet his greedy, calloused hands and beg him over and over again not to make you do it, not now.

You could hardly even see him through your tears, but you felt him. Sensed his lower half forcing its way between your legs and then his member coming to rest on your belly. You squirmed at the feeling of your spit still coating him, and now brushing against you. You sobbed.

“You can’t keep forcing yourself inside me—”

“I can.”

“Won’t make a baby stick if you just—”

“I will.”

You felt betrayed. All your life you’d been force-fed these sunny, sanguine ideals of what motherhood was going to be, and this was all it was? After cherishing that prized thing between your thighs—like virginity were some real gift to be given—for so long, this is who owned it now? The General hadn’t had so much as a fraction of the compassion or patience a wife needed to feel secure. He didn’t treasure you, or care for your pleasure, or do anything to soothe the ache of his repeated intrusions. You couldn’t begin to think what he’d be like as a father.

Presently, he smoothed your hair from your face; not to comfort you any, but to make sure that he could see your expression when he sank himself in. When he took again.

“We’ll have to seek the Emperor’s best,” he murmured.

Your husband gripped one of your knees, and at the same time, held himself. You felt his thick, leaking head trail from your navel to your pubic bone, down exactly where you wanted him least. You tried to protest, but his grasp on your leg only tightened. He pressed you down into the mattress and wiped his cock between your folds.

“This pennyroyal you mention…” Marcus went on.

For some reason, your legs tensed as he said it.

“Or silphium. Whatever it is. Can we get it?”

His tip teased your soft, swollen clit—a place he rarely cared to touch—and, against your will, your body started.

Some minuscule ripple of pleasure there. You swallowed.

“Yes. We can. Please, just—” You glanced down between your body and the General’s then, and the sight nearly sent your head spinning. He looked so big. And cruel. And dripping with precum across your puffy, wet skin.

He knew this act well. You knew this act well enough, but for some reason, you thought your actions aimed at forestalling the inevitable might succeed this time.

You reached for his wrist, and your eyes pleaded with his.

“Don’t do this again,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic.

The General only shook his head, and he held on tighter.

“As your husband, I’ll do this as often as I please. And you’ll learn to like it, if you just stop fighting,” he said.

He found your dripping entrance, like he always did.

“Just let me in. Let me feel her, honey, I deserve it.”

You shook your head, but he pushed on anyway. Your stomach clenched, your walls tensed, and, in spite of your body’s strongest attempts, your husband notched the first inch of himself inside. He let out a happy sigh.

“That’s it. That’s a good wife,” he told you contentedly.

His girth was too much. It was always too much. No matter how slow he went, or how much you tried to prepare yourself, it always hurt. You whimpered at that feeling and had to bite your bottom lip to keep the sound from slipping out. Marcus nodded and kissed your cheek

“Sweet girl. ‘S’all she needed, see? One little inch, or—”

His words were cut short. Then he thrust in all the way.

“—eight, maybe.”

You shrieked and met his palm. It clamped over your lips.

That first stroke was torture. Dragging back was even worse. Re-sheathing himself and making you listen to his wretched grunts and groans of pleasure was pure agony.

“Will the herbs help? Pussy feels plenty ready to me.”

He was mocking you now. Your whines were stifled under his hand and your walls were forced wider for his girth as he sawed back and forth, over and over, without mercy.

“Nod if you want it,” he panted, “Nod if you need that.”

You weren’t sure if he meant the herbs or him. Slowly, and knowing he’d hit you if you didn’t, you nodded.

The General grinned. He didn’t hesitate to speak again.

“Good. Now you can stop soliciting apothecaries behind my back and using these same herbs as contraceptives.”

Your stomach dropped. Your eyes widened, though you knew it was a stupid thing to do when the man’s gaze was practically scorching through your own. You froze.

Your husband wedged his cock even deeper, and you felt him in your cervix—unprotected from any medicine now.

Medicine that he knew about, too, apparently.

You had no choice but to whimper when he kept digging his strong hips into yours, repeatedly, battering that soft, sensitive, defenseless place with his dick like he owned it. You wanted to kick your legs but sensed it was useless. General Acacius would get what he wanted.

What he needed was a son. You could see it in his eyes.

“My stupid, silly wife,” the General chided you, now fucking in deeper than he’d done before. Taunting, “I hope our son gets my brain, or the poor boy’s fucked.”

You wanted to cry. You were still sobbing, but the tears had come with such force before that there didn’t seem to be enough moisture in your body to allow them now. Any wetness, it seemed, was inside your legs, allowing your husband to pound into you with complete abandon.

Skin slapped skin. The man’s breaths grew quicker, more frantic, while your own you wished would halt altogether. His hand moved from your mouth to take your chin in his palm; he looked proud as he drilled your soft, limp body.

“Finish. Please,” you whimpered, all fight extinguished.

You didn’t know what else to say. Your husband had caught you, somehow, and probably knew as well as you that your body would now be forced to accept whatever he gave it. When that warm, throbbing member between your legs had had its fill and the man had decided he’d humiliated you enough, he’d paint your insides white. He’d shoot thick, hot ropes of cum where you’d dreaded him most, and in all likelihood, that seed would take. If not today, then tonight, tomorrow or the next day—there was no clear end in sight until the General had secured the heir he so desperately wanted. What Geta promised.

And you would be a mother, whether you liked it or not.

Every subsequent thrust, grunt, and groan rang hollow to you then. It was like your mind was lost from your body, your brain an open wound, and what was left of you simply splayed on that bed. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Being fucked and filled up without a modicum of concern for your humanity. Or what remained, anyway.

When he was finished and he could feel your body stuffed with his greedy, sticky release, the General leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

He seemed more confident than ever as he spoke.

“I can feel my legacy has already been cemented.”

As it turned out, a month was enough.

Within the year, you gave birth to a son.

This was no great shock to you—getting forcefucked every night for five weeks straight would’ve done the trick for any woman in your position, you supposed.

What surprised you most was how gentle the General became after learning you were pregnant with his child. Ever the paragon of paternal affection and husbandly devotion to you from that moment forward, you were convinced the man had been transformed overnight. He never spoke so much as an unkind word to you, or gave a glance that said anything less than that he was in love and elated to help you bring new life into this world. He never forced himself on you in bed. You could sleep again

One morning, you were cradling your baby in your arms. In just a few short weeks, you had already memorized every inch of his soft, sweet face. And you knew from the first you’d never love a single creature more on this earth

When your husband approached, you smiled—beaming.

“How is my son?” came the deep warble of his voice.

You drew the blanket back an inch with just your finger; beneath the soft cloth, the two of you could see that the infant was sleeping peacefully. He made a delicate sound, and you were half-certain you could hear the General’s heart splintering in two along with it. He dropped to his knees beside you, where he leaned in near and let his eyes say all the rest. They were cheery. Wet.

Sometimes, you, too, enjoyed seeing him cry.

You pet his wavy grey locks and gave them a tug.

“Is he exactly as you pictured? Your legacy?” You smiled.

Marcus blinked, letting two warm tears trickle down.

“Better than I could have dreamed him myself.”

That made your heart swell with a still larger ache. This was all your husband had ever wanted—wrapped up in your arms and swaddled with wool. Your son looked like him, too. You could see the General’s appreciation of this every time his eyes fell to the child, and every time his gaze drifted to you. There was admiration. Adoration.

Love, for once.

“Will he be a soldier like his father?” you asked next.

“A much braver one than I ever was.”

“Will he do Emperor Geta proud by this calling?”

Once more, your husband’s eyes flitted from the baby up to you. His look was soft as he reached out for your hand.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind of that, my love.”

You squeezed his palm. You couldn’t help yourself.

“And will he carry the Acacius family name with pride?”

At that, the General’s hesitation was even shorter than the last. He swiftly confirmed that his son would, indeed, wear his name like a badge of honor. There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty on that front, he assured you.

His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but mirror it.

Even as you slid the knife from in between the folds of your son’s blanket, you were smiling at him all the while.

“And what if he doesn’t?” you asked quietly.

The General’s gaze fell to the blade next.

You thought he might die on the spot.

“What if he bears no name at all?”

The serrated edge now hovered over the baby’s throat. When Marcus jerked toward the thing, instinctively, you only lowered it more. Brought the silver closer to skin.

“Please— You— you can’t— can’t— can’t— please stop.”

He was fumbling for words. You didn’t blame him.

“Your precious legacy is a fragile thing, General.”

And with that, you drew the knife closer.

Your husband let out a strangled noise.

Right when he rose to knock the weapon out of your hand, you took it and flipped it back around to him.

Your first stab was swift. Into his chest.

“My child will never know your name.”

It was clear the injury stunned him.

When you plunged the knife in again, the man let out another sound—this time, a grunt of pain—and you wedged it deeper. You didn’t flinch when his face twisted

“My son will take my name.”

Frankly, with the trauma your blade had already inflicted on his chest, you didn’t expect the General to be able to say a word. Or resist. By the look of horror in his eyes, you could tell he was capable of listening, though.

Now, he would be forced to hear it all.

See his own life taken away from him.

And feel the blade thrust in when you punctured his front for the third and final time. Your eyes were shining now.

Still cradling your child, still holding his gaze, still smiling like this was the single greatest day you’d lived to see.

“Acacius, your bloodline dies with me.”

[rainylana]

“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: some sweet fluff at the trailer with eddie. reader is six months pregnant, so much fluff it may actually kill you, so sweet and precious, smut, vaginal fingering, decrophylia, mentions of max’s death and the battle with vecna, eddie’s self doubt of being a good provider, maybe some language, eddie and reader purposely call their baby by different genders it’s not an error lmao. enjoy!! requests always open just have a lot of works in progress i’m trying to get out there!! also! please let me know if the “read more” tag is working!!

My feet are huge, Eddie.” You said matter of factly, staring at your bare, swollen feet. “I can barely fit into shoes anymore.”

Eddie chuckled, stirring the instant ramen as he put it back in the microwave. “I’ll buy you a size up.”

“But they’re so…so big! I’m so big!” You exclaim, hugging your pregnant belly. “I’m so fat!”

“Y/n,” Eddie said, giving you a pointed look. “What I tell you about that? Stop being so negative about the way you look. It’s not good for you. You’re hot.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, fiddling with your fingers. “You have to admit it though.” You argued. “My feet are huge.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking out his socked foot dramatically. “Well, what about mine! They’re twice the size of yours!”

You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. “I guess so. You’ve got man feet.”

He scoffed. “I am a man, baby.” The thirty second timer of his soup went off, but he paid no mind, making his way over to you. He got on his knees in front of you, grabbing your foot and kissing your freshly painted, hot pink, big toe. “I love you and your big feet, baby.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sweet gesture.

“And,” He pointed at your belly. “I love this baby, too.” He kissed your six month pregnant stomach, patting it lightly. “Hi, baby Munson! Can you hear me? It’s daddy! Daddy’s here!”

You watched him caress your belly, tapping it, humming a new song he was working on, telling it about his work day. You could watch it all day long. You couldn’t wait to meet your baby. You and Eddie had decided to wait to see what the gender was, but it was getting to be harder than what you anticipated.

“God, I’m so excited.” Eddie sighed happily, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Him. Eddie was sure it was a boy.

You? You didn’t care which, as long as she was happy and healthy.

“I know.” You said quietly, your hand over his that laid above your navel. “Only three more months.”

He practically squealed, gathering himself off the ground to sit beside you. He grabbed you by the shoulders softly, turning you around so your back was to him. You sighed happily when he began massaging your shoulders, his thumbs working circles into your sore muscles.

“Oh, god.” You moaned, eyes closed in relief.

“Careful, darlin’.” He smirked, leaning into your ear. “Last time you said that you got pregnant.”

You hadn’t meant to get knocked up. That was the last thing you both had wanted, at the time, anyways. Now, it was the only thing you wanted more than anything in the entire universe. The two year mark of vecna was approaching, and after two years of the trauma you both endured, healed injuries and broken souls, the loss of your dear friend, Max, you both could finally say that you were traveling down hill now. You missed Max. You knew she’d be so happy to hear about the both of you becoming parents.

You remembered the day you had taken the pregnancy test. All 14 of them. You’d blown half of your paycheck on them, needing to be sure. You’d cried on the bathroom floor where he had found you that evening. You didn’t need to say anything, yet you did, watching as he stared at the positive pregnancy tests on the counter. “I’m pregnant.” You had spoken over a tearful whisper.

It was one of his most shameful moments, but Eddie had left you that night on your own, not able to process the idea of becoming a father. Wayne had smacked him upside the head when he showed up to his trailer, confessing the news. “Boy, get your ass outta my house and back you yer’ girl.” His uncle had said.

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie said, kissing your clothed shoulder as he rubbed up and down your spine, going back up to the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed in response. “Me and baby are happy.”

He smirked, eyes starting to droop with tiredness from his long work day. “I hope so.”

You opened your eyes then, noticing the self doubt in his voice that you came to recognize early on in your relationship. Next month will be four years. You craned your neck to try and see him. “I am, Eddie.” You lifted your hand up to grab his, resting them against your shoulder. “So will the baby.”

He squeezed your fingers. “I should get you a better house. We need a safer neighborhood for him.”

“We’ll protect her.” You didn’t let go of his hand, spinning yourself against the leather cushion to face him. “And I love this house. It’s our home.”

“I could buy you pretty dresses.” He frowned, pulling at the string of your pajama pants.

“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.” You laughed, gathering his face in your hands and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re so cute. You’re so good to me.”

His cheeks flushed red under your touch, placing his hand on your fuzzy pj’s. “You’re good to me, baby. My two babies. I love you both so much.” The heat of the precious moment took him over and he found his lips on yours in seconds. Hot, plump and pink and all over each other’s, his thick palm coming up to hold your cheek.

He kissed you like you were the only woman left in the world, a hunger behind each swipe of his tongue that begged to be fed. You opened your mouth and accepted, teeth scrapping teeth in a make out session that was just plain dirty. He was always so paranoid about having sex at first, wondering if it would hurt the baby. You were too, until your doctor assured you there was no danger at risk.

“Let me feel you, baby.” He said hotly against your wet mouth, hand traveling down your cheek to your shoulder, down your arm and to your hip. “Let me make my girl feel good.”

You whined when his hand cupped your mound with a full palm, breaking apart the kiss in surprise. He rubbed you over your pajama’s, your body leaning into him, rocking against his hand to gain some more friction that just wasn’t doing the job.

You grabbed his hand, pulling down your pants to your knees, placing him back down to your bare pussy. You found his mouth again, his fingers running up your slick with a full swipe, collecting your wetness that made his hand sticky.

“You want me to touch you, honey?” He gently gathered you close, leaning you back to you could lay on the leather sofa. “Tell me what you want, pretty baby.”

The teasing made you hot and lightheaded, the throbbing between your legs created a burning sensation that ached to be cooled. “Please, Eddie,” You arched into his hand. “Touch me. Fuck me with your fingers.”

He practically groaned, the strain in his boxers rubbing against your thigh. He leaned down and placed a full, deep kiss on your lips, entering two fingers into your cunt. He plunged them deep inside, curling them in one go, before pulling out and repeating the movement.

The sudden sensation had you crying out, back arched and mouth ajar. Eddie hovered over your stomach, one hand inside you, the other holding himself up so he didn’t put pressure on your belly. He lifted his chin at you, eyes dark and sparking with a mischievous glare. “Yeah?”

You sobbed, writhing underneath as he finger fucked your pussy, a third ring finger now plunging in and out of you. The sound of your squelching arousal filled his ears, his pre cum darkening a patch of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time he’d cum in his pants just from fingering you.

“Oh, God,” Your legs were split apart, cunt on full display for him. He looked down, watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of you. Your face was best red, sweat fell down your cheeks and tears fell down your sticky skin.

“I’m so close, Eddie.” You shook underneath him.

“Mhmm.” He nodded, his thumb lazily swiping at your clit, not enough to make the coil in your belly snap. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? You want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

“Yes, yes!” You reeled your head back and pleaded to him, to god.

Eddie leaned down, spit on your puffy, red and swollen clit, and wrapped his plump lips around your sexual nerve, puckering and sucking like his life depending on it. It wasn’t long then, and you were squeezing his fingers and shaking, convulsing underneath him.

He fingered you through your orgasm, admiring your beauty as laid there and cried.

[jade-of-mourning]

sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)