#more of a hindrance than anything

[anotherquirkhelpblog]

Nocturnal

Emitter?

Causes the user to be more adept to being awake at night as opposed to the day. The user may experience light sensitivity and heat sensitivity during the day.

[tarohonii]

hi yes hello so i am obsessed with the idea that teru and akane are narratively doomed to never be able to truly fall in love with each other due to their obsessive attachment styles and ingrained duty to their first priorities (Aoi and Teru's siblings respectively), and just the same as guard dogs are, they can never love someone more than their first owner. Their duty stands above all, so their love for each other will never be enough to save each other, to sacrifice for one another, to risk life and limb and all they’ve known for each other if it stands in the way of their first priority. They will never love each other in any way that matters

[inquietstrength]

Can I count the four hours working with B on a Saturday part of my Lenten suffering?

[elizabro]

please consider how you engage with aaron bushnell's death. you may react to it as you will, but it's crucial to remember that his death was specifically a call to action. it was not meant solely to shock but to draw attention to a vast moral hypocrisy: that to many, a soldier dying in a campaign backed by the U.S. government is noble, even if the soldier kills innocents to do so, even if the cause is morally bankrupt--but this? this is insanity. a man taking his own life, on his own terms, in an attempt to help others while hurting nobody else, is somehow less rational and more horrifying than the mass killing of civilians.

of course aaron's death was horrific. but as he said beforehand, it is realistically no more horrific than what's happening in gaza. if we can't stomach this, then why can we stomach children being bombed? thousands being starved? for all that self immolation is, it brings death in a matter of minutes. it is a fraction of the amount of pain, fear, and grief that people in gaza are experiencing. it's just that we are able to quantify it. and this tiny, quantifiable sliver of horror is still so unbelievably awful. how can anyone bear to think about anything else when this horror is happening a millionfold in palestine? this is the question aaron bushnell was asking. and he wanted you to face it, head-on, watching him burn to death.

I've been seeing people make fanart. minimalist graphics to sell on t-shirts. to commodify his death, to mythologize it not a day afterwards, is not only in poor taste but a hindrance to his message. the answer is not commodification, nor is it defeatism, nor is it rejoicing in his death. if you want to honor aaron's legacy, take action. channel your horror and your outrage into making a material change. this wasn't about him. this was about palestine. remember that it was always about palestine.

[nanaslutt]

Forgotten lunch

synopsis: Nanami forgets his lunch and you being the sweet wife you are, decide to stop by Jujutsu High to bring it to him

contains: fem reader, established relationship, teasing, dirty talk, possessive!Nanami, rough sex, manhandling, squirting, oral(f!r), cum eating, office sex

note: this was a vip request from a friend :3 i hope u enjoy <3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You awoke to a chime sounding from your phone on the nightstand, a text message from your husband, Nanami. He texted you only seconds ago, letting you know he had left for work and would be home later that night. He did this every time he left for work when you were still asleep, and every time it never failed to make you swoon. It was such a small thing, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

You couldn't wait for the day you transferred to work at Jujutsu High instead of the Kyoto school. The thought of getting ready every morning with Nanami and commuting to work together--maybe stopping at a coffee shop before you arrived at the school, made your heart flutter. Only two more weeks and your fantasies would become a reality.

After stretching your body and groaning dramatically, messing up the sheets in the process as you splayed your body out along the length of the bed like a starfish, you begrudgingly pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. You had finished all of your assignments early the day before, meaning you had a day off. A rare occasion, but one you were extremely grateful for.

When you walked into your shared bathroom to wash your face, you were met with a small pink sticky note on your side of the bathroom, a heart, and the words 'Have a good day' written in Nanami's neat handwriting. You smiled as you looked at it before putting on your headband to keep the stray hairs out of your face as you continued with your skincare.

Once you had finished all of your morning care, and pulled on a simple, comfortable outfit, you strolled into the kitchen for breakfast, rubbing the back of your neck as you walked into the room. Immediately, you noticed Nanami's grey lunchbox sitting atop the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows, you walked up to the bag, wondering if he had forgotten his lunch, or if he had used a different bag today and this was the one he used the day prior. 

Sure enough, when you unzipped the bag, it was full of the lunch you had prepared for him the day before, the cold leaked out into the air, feeling it on your fingertips as you looked inside, letting you know that the food inside was still good. Thank god for insulated lunch boxes. You shook your head and smiled at his mistake, it was unusual that Nanami missed something like this, he was a man severely devoted to his schedule after all. 

You chalked it up to him being a little tired from the night before, causing his lunch to slip his mind. Because you had the day off, you might've been a little selfish the night before when you made Nanami fuck you into the sheets over and over again. Clinging onto him as you whispered into his ear 'Don't stop, give me more~' until the early hours of the night. 

It's not like Nanami was complaining, he was just as eager as you were. You definitely could've shortened your... session a little bit for his sake though. Maybe you would've if his dick allowed you to think of anything other than how deep it was inside you. Shaking your head you snapped yourself back into the present, pushing down the growing arousal you felt between your thighs while your brain replayed the most intimate moments you spent together last night. 

Clearing your throat, you zipped the lunch bag shut, taking it in your hand as you decided to take it to him. You had nothing to do on this day anyway, it's not like it was a hindrance to you in any way. Besides, Nanami's commute to the school was so close--a lot closer than you were to the Kyoto school.

Sitting on the floor with Nanami's lunchbox beside you, you pulled your shoes on, getting ready to leave. You checked your appearance in the mirror before you walked out the door, making sure you looked presentable before you saw your husband, ignoring the fact that Nanami had said many many times that he would find you attractive if you were in a garbage bag. 

You were surprised Nanami hadn't texted you about his missing lunch. Maybe he still hadn't noticed, even if he did, you doubted he would ask you to bring it to him. Even though he knew you had nothing going on today, Nanami wouldn't want to inconvenience you--such a selfless man. You grabbed the handle of his lunchbox, lifting it from the floor, and with that, you were on your way.

You always loved the Jujutsu High campus. The scenery was beautiful, and the plants and flowers that decorated nicely around the buildings were so well tended to, making it look so clean and inviting. Another plus was the people. Everyone here was so sweet and welcoming, save for a certain old guitarist who appeared to be withering away in front of your eyes, and the higher-ups of course. It was seldom that you saw them though.

The students on campus loved you as well, they were all so excited when they heard from Nanami that you were transferring. You hadn't had many interactions with them, but you could tell they were good kids and respected your husband, especially a young Yuji Itadori, who seemed to almost worship the ground Nanami walked on.

You knew the way to Nanami's office with ease, you had been there many times when you got off work before him and decided to come to his work and sit in his office with him while he finished up. Strolling through the quiet halls of the teacher's offices, your eyes lit up when they landed on Nanami's, his office placed next to Gojo's, whose door was poorly decorated with flowers and hearts that looked like third graders had drawn them. It always made you smile when you saw it. 

You knocked softly against Kento's door, not speaking as you wanted to surprise him. Before you even finished, the door was being swung open, and your eyes were met with your husband's, his reading glasses pushed atop his head, his hair being pushed back with them. You shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, god he looked good in a suit. His built stature was practically ripping through the material of his clothes, making your thoughts run rampant. You hoped he didn't catch the blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I sensed your cursed energy, what are you doing here my love?" Nanami asked. The tips of his ears were turning a light shade of pink. He was excited to see you--cute. Your hands were behind your back, hiding his lunch box from his view. He said a quiet 'come inside' before you spoke, stepping to the side as he opened his door more for you, letting you into his space.

You didn't miss the way he locked the door after he shut it, making you smile to yourself. "Forgot something, Ken?" You asked, tilting your head at him knowingly as you revealed his lunch box to him, holding it out with both hands in front of him. Nanami sighed, a small smile gracing his features as he took the lunchbox from you, taking a few steps to set in on his desk before he walked back over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your body.

"You didn't have to bring it all the way here, I would've realized at some point and gone to a cafe to get something to eat." He explained, his large hand caressing the side of your cheek. Nanami's body heat spread throughout your entire body as he held you against his chest, nuzzling your cheek instinctually against his hand. "I made your favorite, wouldn't want you to miss out. I'm not doing anything today anyways, it was nothing." You replied, tipping your face against his hand so you could press a kiss to the side of his palm.

Nanami leaned his face down toward yours, his hand sliding down to your neck as he rested it there softly. His eyes flit between your soft lips and your gentle eyes, filled with so much love for him. "Mmmm." He moaned against you as he pressed your lips together, relishing how soft you felt against him. He kissed you slowly, passionately, before he pulled back, way too soon for your liking. 

You felt that same throbbing you felt while you were fantasizing about the night before making its appearance once more as he looked down at you with a smile, brushing the stray hairs from your face. "Well, I appreciate it, my love. Truthfully I would've been slightly disappointed when lunchtime came around and I realized I wouldn't get to eat you're cooking." Nanami said, his hands pulling away from your waist as he made his way back to his desk, sitting down in his expensive office chair.

While you mourned the loss of his hands on you, your greedy eyes took in the way his thighs bulged through his pants as he sat down, the material covering them straining to fit his muscles. Maybe you should get him some new pants... or maybe not, the sight of them was too delicious. 

Biting your lip, you strolled over to him as he looked back down at his documents, his glasses finding their home on the bridge of his nose. "What are your plans for the day? Just relaxing or did you need to go out for something?" Nanami asked, keeping his eyes on his paperwork. His body jolted slightly before relaxing when you came up behind him and started massaging his shoulders with your smaller hands. 

Your fingers dug into his muscles, working him over so well as you loosened the knots in his shoulders. Nanami rolled his head to the side, pressing his lips together as his eyes fell shut, relaxing against your touch. You leaned against the shell of his ear, biting the tip of his before you whispered teasingly, "I was just going to wait at home all alone in my panties till my husband came home." 

Nanami groaned in response, his eyes cracking open as he looked to the ceiling for help before he looked back down at his document when he realized what you were trying to do. "Don't do this right now." He said sternly, trying to ignore the heat that started to bloom deep in his stomach from your words. "Do what? I'm just helping you relax. I can't do that?" You replied, playing dumb.

Nanami felt his cock stir to life in his pants. He hated that he liked it when you played coy with him. "Honey, I have a lot of work to do. Was yesterday not enough?" Kento responded, his eyes fluttering when your thumbs dug into a particularly tense spot in his shoulders. You felt your arousal grow at his mention of what the two of you did last night. "I can never get enough of you Ken~" You teased, saying his name seductively in his ear. 

"Honey please." He begged, doing his best not to give in to you. "Gojo is just one room over, I can't do this with you right now." He said firmly, his shoulders flexing under your hands when he leaned forward to start reviewing the documents in front of him. "Hm? Why are you bringing him up? What kinds of lewd things are you thinking about in there?" You teased, tapping the top of his head with your finger.

Nanami was already fully hard in his slacks, just from a few touches and a couple of dirty words from you. Your ability to rile him up like this was truly a talent, he was absolutely whipped by you. You peeked over his shoulder when he stayed quiet, looking down at the very obvious bulge in his pants as he wrote something unintelligible on the paper, trying to look busy. 

"Are you hard, baby? I didn't even do anything, what got you so worked up?" You giggled, biting your lip as you watched his cock twitch through his pants, the sight making your mouth water. Nanami was losing his cool, he didn't know how much more of your teasing he could take. You decided to test your luck further, sliding your hands down his shoulders your ran them over his chest, your fingers teasing his solid pecs over his shirt. 

Nanami groaned when you raked your nails back up the expanse of his chest, they scratched over his sensitive nipples, making his cock twitch in his pants. You were about to say something overconfident and snarky, but you were cut off when Nanami stood from his chair, shoved it to the side away from his desk, and turned around to catch your slender neck in his hand. 

"You really wanna get fucked here? Want me to pause my work because my wife is a needy slut?" He growled lowly, keeping a firm grip on your neck as he brought his face close to yours, his other hand holding your waist firmly. The sudden change in his demeanor made your head spin as you smiled at him. You were getting exactly what you wanted. "Yes please." You said selfishly, your smile growing with your arousal as you kept your lidded eyes on your handsome husband's face, plastered with frustration.

Your hands came up to grip Nanami's wrist that was holding your neck as you waited for him to make his next move. He licked his teeth before he manhandled you down on the desk, your chest crumpling any of the documents that were unfortunate enough to be sitting in front of him. He kept a large hand on the back of your neck while your hands gripped the edge of the desk.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and echoing in your ears from how excited you were. You tried to turn your head far enough so you could watch Nanami undo his belt when you heard the clinking of the metal as he ripped the leather from the confines of the belt loops on his pants. "What do you think you're looking at?" Kento asked harshly, squinting his eyes at you as he hastily unzipped his pants to release his cock from the too-tight confines of his work pants.

"Your cock." You said boldly, your eyes locking onto the appendage as he pulled it out from his boxers, keeping his pants on but lower on his hips so his cock had enough space to get out. Nanami wrapped his hand around his dick, the tip already dripping pre-cum onto the floor from how worked up he was. 

"You want this as bad as I do, don't you Ken?" You asked, wiggling your ass at him. You really weren't planning on jumping on Nanami like this when you decided to bring his lunch to him, but a single quick one over of his impressive frame in his work clothes managed to change that. "Shut up." He growled back, releasing his cock after he gave it a few strokes to pull down the casual pants you wore, panties and all, exposing your dripping cunt to the room.

"If you wanna pretend you're all angry with me you can, I like when you get rough." You teased, feeling a new wave of arousal wash over you when he exposed your cunt to the room. You watched from your peripheral as his eyes took in your soaked cunt, his thumb spreading open your folds to his greedy eyes. "And what makes you think I'm pretending, hm?" Nanami spat, the vein in his forehead popping out at your teasing. 

He slid his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow teasing circles over it, effectively shutting you up. The hand he had on the back of your neck tightened against you as he watched your jaw drop in a small o, your eyes fluttering back in your head. "So fucking easy, all I gotta do is touch your clit a little and you behave," Nanami said, his cock dripping pre-cum against your ass as he throbbed watching your face contort from your pleasure.

"'M n-not easy." You tried to spit back. Nanami was right though, the second he gave you any sort of attention, you were a good girl. He knew just how to calm you down. "No?" He asked, rubbing his thumb faster against your clit. "Look at yourself." He said, his fingers on your neck emphasizing his words with a squeeze to your pulse point.

You tried to press your thighs together as he rubbed your clit, but Nanami was having none of that. His larger thigh knocked your knees apart, keeping you spread open for him so he had full access to your pretty pussy. "You're gonna be quiet when I fuck you. Not gonna make a fucking sound." Nanami instructed, not giving you an option. 

You nodded, agreeing to his words--but honestly, you would say anything he wanted you to if it meant he gave you his cock. You whined at the loss of his thumb against your pussy, but the feeling was soon replaced by the fat head of his cock, rubbing up and down your folds, mixing his precum with your juices, making sure his cock was nice and wet before he fucked you.

"Let me know you heard me, tell me you're going to be quiet," Nanami repeated, catching his head against your entrance and pressing against it teasingly before he pulled back, making you whine. "Yes, yes Ken I'll be quiet, just-, please." You begged, trying to push your ass back against him so he would give you his dick already.

"Please what?" He asked. You didn't miss the teasing tone his voice took, it was his turn to play with you now. "Y-your cock, give me your cock pleasee~" You whined, pouting against his desk as you tried to look back at him through your blurry peripheral. Nanami released the back of your neck to grab both of your wrists in his one large hand, keeping them restrained against your lower back. "So easy." He repeated, referencing his words earlier as he slowly slid his cock into your cunt.

Your jaw fell open agaisnt the wood of his desk before a loud moan slipped from your lips. Nanami wasted no time in wrapping a hand under your face and pressing his hand against your mouth, his back lying flush against yours as he crushed you with his weight, his hand restraining your wrists being crushed between your bodies, his mouth right against your ear as he spoke, "Be fucking quiet." He groaned, keeping his voice semi-quiet as he spoke.

"Two inches of my cock inside you and you break your promise?" He whispered, thrusting the rest of his cock inside you, a muffled moan resounding against Nanami's hand. "I wasn't fucking kidding. Gojo is right on the other side of that wall and you just moaned like a slut for everyone to hear." He growled, slowly humping his hips against your ass. 

You let out soft moans against his hand, your eyes rolling back in your head each time his fat tip brushed against your sweet spot deep inside you. "You're my fucking wife. No one else gets to hear how you cry for me when I fuck you, got that?" He whispered, his deep voice in your ear sending goosebumps down your spine. You loved when Nanami got possessive, it made you feel so fucking hot all over.

You nodded against the desk, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock as he fucked you open for him. He kept his weight against your back as he fucked you, his balls slapping against your thighs making lewd noises to echo around his office. He was too worried about your moans, he should've been more concerned with that. Anyone who walked by his room would easily be able to tell what was going on from the slapping alone, whether or not you were making any sound.

You did your best to keep your moans quiet as he pressed his hand against your mouth, but it was proving to be so fucking hard. It was rare that you and Nanami got intimate at any place other than your home, so you weren't used to having to be quiet. It wasn't like you had much of a choice either. Nanami was fucking you so hard, he was practically punching the sounds out of your body.

His cock was touching all the right places inside you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. "God your pussy is squeezing me so tight." Nanami groaned, his head burring in the crook of your neck as he whispered the words, his hot breath tickling your skin. "M-mmmm" You moaned into his hand, your ass wiggling back against him as you tried to escape the intense pleasure he was giving you--or were you trying to get more? You couldn't remember, he was fucking you dumb.

"What's wrong? Too much?" Nanami asked, faux sympathy laced in his voice. He sped up the pace of his hips against you, the slapping echoing louder in the room as he abused your g-spot with his cockhead. You could only whine against his hand, unsure what you would've said if he wasn't covering your mouth. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

You whined, your legs shaking from the intense pleasure flooding your body. Nanami's balls were slapping harshly against your clit, making your brain turn to mush as he fucked you so deep. "Shhhhh." He reminded when you started to get a little too cockdrunk, forgetting where you were. His hand could only do so much in keeping your moans down, he needed you to help him out a bit. "Be quiet baby, do this one thing for me, c'mon." He urged.

You wanted to laugh. How could he say that, then somehow fuck his cock deeper inside you? Fucking tease, he knew what he was doing. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm build up inside you. All the stimulation was too much. Your hands started to go numb from how hard Nanami was gripping your wrists combined with his body weight crushing them. That was another thing--his body weight.

He was effectively suffocating you but in the best way. Each time his cock slid inside you, it punched the air from your lungs, and with how much he was laying on you, it was making it very hard to recover from his thrusts and take in a breath. It felt like he was choking you, but ten times more intense, and you loved it.

You think that's why your orgasm came on so quickly. The anticipation combined with how deep he was pounding into you was going to make you cum--and hard, all over his cock. "You got tighter...are you close? Hm? Gonna cum all over my dick right now?" He asked against your air, his deep voice only adding fuel to the fire as his soft lips sucked the lobe of your ear into his mouth, his teeth slightly pulling on it.

You nodded, your moans increasing in frequency but the volume stayed the same, you didn't want to anger Kento more than you already had. "Good, do it. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, c'mon." He cooed into your ear, his own dick twitching inside you with his impending release as he kept the same pace up, working you higher and higher to your orgasm.

Your shins crossed over one another with the sheer intensity of the pleasure you were feeling. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open against his palm as it opened in a silent scream. "Yeah, that's it- oh fuckkkk, atta girl, good fucking girlll." Nanami groaned as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your moans sounded shaky as the rest of your body jolted as it was wracked with your high.

Nanami didn't have to look to know you had just squirted all over his cock, and undoubtedly all over his pants. "Gonna cum inside you, that's what you want right? Wanna feel me deep inside you?" He babbled against your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy and stuttered the closer her got to the edge. He released the hand he had on your mouth so you could speak, he needed to hear you beg for him.

"Y-ess Ken c-cum inside me pleaseee~" You whined, your moans coming out slurred and choppy as he fucked you through the aftershocks of your high, slightly overstimulating you as he used your cunt to get him off. "O-okay okay- fuck c-cumming-" Nanami's hips stilled against your ass as his cock twitched inside you with every rope of cum he shot deep inside. His balls clenched with his cock as he released all of his seed inside you, groaning loudly against your ear--so much for being quiet.

"Oh fuck- there's s-so much." You whined back, keeping your thighs pressed together as he rolled his hips against you, letting your walls milk him entirely before he stopped moving. "God... fuck..." Nanami huffed as he came down from his high, his body crushing yours even more as he relaxed against you from such an intense orgasm.

He was still deep inside you and he could already feel how his seed was spilling out around his dick from how much he had given you. "K-ken... can't... breathe..." You whispered against the desk, your cheek being squished into the wood. Nanami quickly sat up, standing his full weight on shaky legs. "Sorry honey, that really took a lot out of me." Nanami groaned as he slowly pulled his spent cock out of your tight walls.

You hissed in overstimulation as he slid out of you. Your walls clenched around him in instinct, making him wince as your pussy hugged his tip before he slid it fully out of you. He reached over your body to grab the tissues on the side of his desk, grabbing a couple as he wiped his cock clean before tucking it back in his pants.

You layed still against the desk for a couple of seconds before you tried to push yourself up. You were quickly stopped by your husband, who pressed his hand against your lower back, keeping you on his desk. "Don't move." He instructed, to which you obeyed, blushing as you laid still against the wooden desk, your body still shaking and twitching from your orgasm.

You looked around the room as you waited for Nanami to do something. Your body jolted when you felt his tongue lap at your used cunt, his large hands gripping the fat of your ass as he spread you apart so he could clean you better with his tongue. You slapped your own hand over your mouth as he ate his cum out of you, making you whine in oversensitivity.

"K-kento!" You whined through your fingers, your free hand shooting back to rake through his sweaty hair, your head tipping to the side so you could make eye contact with his lidded eyes as he licked through your folds, cleaning you up. Nanami moaned in response, shaking his head against you so he could get his face deeper, tasting your combined essence on his tongue.

You blushed at his antics, moaning softly agaisnt your hand before he pulled away, standing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at you innocently. "How's your cum taste?" You teased, smirking at him with a flushed face. He smirked back before he lifted your tired body and placed you on his lap, facing him, as he sat down on his office chair.

You adjusted your pants on top of him, covering your cunt with your pants and panties once more before he gripped your chin and leaned forward. You leaned into the kiss, your lips slotting together with his as he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly. You tasted the familiar bitterness of his cum on your tongue, mixed with something else you could only assume was yourself. 

He pulled away from the kiss after a few seconds, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you together as you gazed at him with a slightly slack jaw. "You tell me, how do I taste?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over your lip before he dropped both hands to your thighs, rubbing the skin there soothingly. 

You blushed at how bold he was being, oh how the tables turned. You pouted at him as he smirked, rubbing his hands along the soft material of your pants. "Any chance this was premeditated and you brought an extra pair of pants for me?" Nanami asked, looking down at the very obvious wet spots on his crotch and thighs from where you squirted on him.

"Was that- did I do that?" You asked, looking down at the mess and blushing furiously. You don't know how you were only noticing it now, it was a massive dark patch, really. "Yes baby, you did that," Kento responded, nodding. You looked around the room for anything that could be suitable pants or at least something he could use to cover himself when he left for the day.

After your eyes found nothing, of course, because you were in Nanami Kento's office, the very organized man who only brought with him what was necessary--you looked back to him before speaking, "You uh... you wanna wear my pants?" 

It was the thought that mattered.

[powdermelonkeg]

Cheat Code #2 for accommodating disabled characters in sci-fi/fantasy:

How you aid a disability depends on if it's a new development or had always existed.

i.e.: If someone's lost their legs to a griffin biting them off last week, giving them steampunk prosthetic legs is a good aid. There's something they can't do, that they very recently could, that they need to learn to work around. The prosthetic legs still need an adjustment period to learn how to use them, but your character knows how legs should work and can figure it out more easily.

If someone lost their legs because, as a child, they wandered away from the space field trip and got partially eaten by a carnivorous plant, then it depends. Prosthetic legs can technically work, but the longer the character was without legs, the harder it'll be to re-learn how to use them. You might want to go with bionic legs for short distances, but a hover chair for daily use.

If someone was born without legs, then prosthetic legs are more hindrance than they're worth. Your character has never had legs, and has no idea how they're supposed to work.

Imagine if you're in a world of centaurs; you're given prosthetic hind legs, and now expected to be able to climb up cliffs with the grace of a mountain goat. It's a whole new skill you'd have to learn, and you would get annoyed with it very fast; how are they supposed to sync with the legs you already have? How are you supposed to balance? You can't feel anything, you don't know how much space it occupies.

Someone who's always been disabled doesn't need the thing they were born without, they need aid that lets them do what everyone else can in a way they're familiar with. If your character has always been deaf, glasses with subtitles appearing on them are infinitely more useful than aids that let them hear, because hearing when you've always had silence is going to have a steep learning curve and be ridiculously overwhelming.

Your rule of thumb?

Try to give them something they're used to.

Note: This is different with very small children, because they're already learning how to use every part of them. If a toddler in your sci-fi was born without legs, they can be taught to use bionic legs at a very young age, but it has to start early or it'll run into the problems above.

Cheat code 1: How to avoid eliminating disability in your setting

Cheat Code 3: How to make your setting itself disability-friendly

Cheat Code 4: How to personalize your character's disability aid

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Theseus is dead. You’re escorting the Minotaur, more beast than a man, out of the Labyrinth. The problem is, he seems to be more interested in what’s between your legs than in his mission of killing the notorious king of Crete… (12 k. Minotaur is not an actual hybrid in this fic. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Part 1 here.) Tags/warnings: Shameless smut mdni, dubious consent, extremely possessive behaviour, abduction, first time (König & reader are both virgins), hugs & cuddles, washing blood off your monster boyfriend, awkward flirting, semi-rough sex, shifting power dynamics, sexist insults & slurs (the citizens of Crete do not approve of your choices), implied cannibalism, fluffy ending. Mythical AU.

The candle goes out before you reach the surface.

To someone else, it would be the end of the world: to you, it’s only a hindrance, a nuisance, mostly. 

You’re not easily distressed. If you were, you wouldn’t be in the service of the greatest goddess of the Underworld. And you’re not mourning losing the sight of your warmly illuminated beast... You’re only worried about what he will do once the darkness descends. Whether he will forget about his vow, whether the baser instincts take over him once the darkness falls.

And darkness is not capable of making you lost: you can always follow the string in your hand. But without light, it’s difficult to predict the Bull’s moves: whether he decides to maim or fuck you against the wall, you can never tell. He hasn’t lived in the real world among people; he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong and what’s expected of him. Even the best of men can succumb to the demands of the flesh, so what power would a Bull Man have against his animal wants? No one ever taught him to respect the gods, let alone the maidens who serve them...

Then again, if a simple candle was the only thing that kept you alive, then what’s the point of lamenting the loss of it? Your life was already forfeit when you chose to descend here.

So you let it go: as always, the greatest lesson in life is to simply let go. Of control, of judgment, of fear, of hope. 

He doesn’t say a thing when the light flickers, then fades. The candle goes out in silence, and you let it drop before the remaining wax burns your palm.

And it’s not the absence of light, but strength, that forces you on your knees before even an hour has passed. There’s still a long way to go, and the yarn is like a thin string of hope in your hand, but you’re too exhausted, too worn out, too hungry and too tired to go on.

The Bull Man doesn’t object to your suggestion to lay down and sleep for a while. He has walked behind you in silence the whole day. Or night… You can’t tell the difference; you lost count somewhere along the way down here. The air is stale and humid, and there’s no torch, not a single candle anywhere and even if there were, you wouldn’t do anything with them without a flint. 

The horror is kept at bay only through your numerous exercises with the goddess who introduced you to darkness many, many moons ago. You were initiated during the dark Moon, the new Moon, the blood Moon, introduced to the mysteries of the maiden, mother and crone, to the secrets of both the living and the dead. You’re not afraid, but your body still warns you of danger: you just don’t know if it’s a memory from childhood or a reaction to the Bull, panting behind you – out of lust or exertion, you don’t even know. Someone who wasn’t a maiden probably could tell… At times, you curse the fact that there hasn’t been a single phallus inside you because men too possess knowledge. Taking a man into your bed would have initiated you to a different set of mysteries, but now, you are poking blind. 

The Bull Man is an animal, you remind yourself. The longer you stay in his company, the more he starts to resemble a human, even if he is a man of few words. How he even remembers them is another mystery: you thought he was sent down here as a young boy. He speaks oddly but eloquently, a remnant of his noble descent, perhaps. Or perhaps he has listened to the people speaking in the Labyrinth, eavesdropped his victims an hour or two before killing them. Whatever the reason, you have to constantly tie your tongue because there’s simply no point in talking to a beast. The less you know about him and his past, the better.

You ready yourself for sleep, but the cursed cold of the tunnels keeps your body awake. Your flesh is human even if your mind is forged to withstand hunger, thirst and pain. Endurance against cold was never your strong suit, and you miss the heat of the sun, the warmth of it on your skin, even the ample light it gives. You, a lover of the moon, missing the heat of Apollo… It’s a joke, surely.

On the stone floor, it’s even colder, the rough, damp ground making your very bones ache. How on Hecate’s name has the beast survived this place?

“Bull Man,” you speak into the darkness, thick like an impenetrable wall and thin like a virgin’s veil.

“Maiden,” he echoes with a dark, low growl, slightly amused by the name you’ve selected for him.

“Are you cold?” You whisper.

Perhaps he doesn’t quite understand the question or why you asked it. It doesn’t matter: you have to swallow your pride and ask for his help if you’re going to survive this dark prison.

“I don’t get cold,” he finally responds.

“Good. I need your heat.” 

The silence drags on, and you fear he has misunderstood you again, but then he speaks again, with the same slightly amused tone as before.

“Come take it.”

You’re not sure if you’ve completely lost your mind, crawling to him through the uneven floor of the Labyrinth. Who knows what he will do to you once he gets those arms of iron around you? You’re placing your maidenhood, your whole body at his mercy. And you’re not even sure if it’s a he, if this thing is human at all. 

Human or animal, your hand meets the bull’s head on the way to him. He has taken it off, then... It’s not a part of him, just like you suspected. Maybe he is just a giant, daunting man, born from whatever forbidden desire Pasiphae had. Who knows if she only went to a foreign lover’s arms when her husband was at war? Who knows if King Minos has trouble getting his phallus up… These things happen: women get pregnant from their lovers, they do desperate things to pacify their husbands. And you don’t need a bull to get yourself an heir...

You feel his heat before you feel his skin: the Minotaur is verily blazing. He has gotten used to the cold, it seems, his body like a small bonfire in the clammy tunnel. 

“Cold little female,” he comments when you snuggle towards him shyly, thoroughly aware of the uninviting chill of your body. 

You settle next to him, every muscle in your body tight like a bowstring, your breaths shallow when he gives you a welcoming rumble. Goosebumps prickle across your skin and your throat goes dry, the thick swallow in the tunnel echoing around you like a thief.

Arms like iron go around you, and his body is taut, just like yours, but for a whole different reason entirely. He’s not afraid or nervous; he’s just… big. Pure muscle, his whole body thick, the stock and heat of him remind you of the sun. A miniature sun down here in these dark tunnels, but while you start to slowly soften in his arms, a different threat is already emerging. It doesn’t take long before his cock stiffens against you, and with the scarce clothing you both have, you can feel its every excited twitch.

Artemis… Protect me from this beast. Turn him into a dog if he tries to penetrate me. Let him rip my throat instead… 

You’ve never prayed to the Virgin Goddess; you don’t know if she can even hear you from down here. But Hecate would only laugh if this Bull decided to breed you. No mercy would arrive from that direction: she would either send a disease of blisters upon the Minotaur for touching her chosen or then she would cackle like an old woman, thousand times raped.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your kindness will distract him from what’s happening downstairs.

“My pleasure,” he grumbles, mimicking the words he probably heard as a child in his father’s great hall. 

It sends a chill down your spine and butterflies into your heart to hear him speak like a polite man of court. And again, you think of asking him about his childhood... His mother, his father, the things he remembers from the surface. How he survived here without water, if there are underground springs here somewhere. Whether he eats humans like they say... If he ever embraced the dead women he killed. 

“Can you do it again,” he rumbles against you, cutting you away from your grotesque thoughts.

“...Do what again?” 

“Touch me… With your hand.”

His words are blunt now, his speech clumsy. But the way he says it is not an order. It’s an odd beg, more like. Laced with hope and wishes far away from greed. This Bull is never greedy, per se… He’s just lacking. Starved, for so many things that you fear there’s not enough time nor kindness to give him what he needs.

Your pulse flutters when you slowly lift your hand and caress the strong cords of muscle that make his neck. The rumbling returns; it turns into a low purr as the beast relaxes under your touch. Something softens inside you when he sighs from relief. His unbridled happiness tugs at your heart, trying to yank open something forbidden. It’s the softest violation you’ve ever felt: to be held by a giant killer having a roaring erection, while the said killer clearly enjoys your caress like it’s the touch of Aphrodite herself…

You even stroke his face. His jaw, unclenching under your touch; his cheek, covered with what you suppose is simply a wild, overgrown beard. 

“Your hand,” he groans softly, “makes me sleepy and warm…”

The cold, uncaring goddess recedes. The burdens of past, present and future dissolve. Softness takes place in your heart; the iron locks give in like brittle brass. A smile plays on your lips as you continue to pet him softly, lulling you both to sleep with your voice.

“Then sleep, Bull of Crete...”

…

You wake up to his cock pressing against you.

Not against your stomach like when you went to sleep – that you could do with – but against your cunt, barely veiled by the thin linen of your dress.

The panic is soon wrestled down with reason: you tell yourself it’s just a cock. It’s just him. You’re simply in the Minotaur’s arms, and he’s sound asleep still; there’s no reason to buck and jerk and scream. 

The darkness feels like a safe womb now, but with nothing to lock your gaze to, you have to take a moment to ground yourself into reality. And the first thing you ground into is a thick cockhead, pressing fast into your nether lips. He’s practically at the gates, and you’re lucky he’s still asleep.

It’s perhaps your fault this happened in the first place: you notice you’ve dragged your thigh over his hip; as if wanting him to fuck you in your sleep… You embrace him like Helen of Troy, and he holds you through his sleep like a man in love, perfectly content with napping on the cold ground with you.

“Mm…” The beast stirs, probably noticing how the female in his arms is tense as a rod. “You smell like you want to fuck…”

“No I don’t,” you hurry to whisper.

Gods curse this man’s ability to smell everything from miles away. Blood and humans and, apparently, a woman at her most receptive. 

What if he can actually smell the wetness between your legs?

“We need to go,” you slowly remove your leg from on top of his waist, hoping it would go unnoticed that you were clutching him like a lover. You have no such luck: he grabs your thigh and draws it back, sets it safe and snug around his waist while adjusting his grip on you, now hugging you entirely like a lover would.

“I want to mate with you,” he says softly. “You want to mate too. Why go?”

He sounds so adorable when he’s still in the process of waking up to a new day. Drowsy and sweet, voice husky from sleep, body warm as can be, the hard-on between his legs happy and stiff.

“I thought you wanted to kill the king,” you try to point out. 

“This is more important,” he gruffs. “Urgent.”

The cock pushes further up and against you, now spreading your folds under the dress, trying to penetrate into your heat. Your eyes go wide as thick need pools down to meet his greed. His body, his cock makes your head go dull for a moment; you feel like you’re not even capable of thinking actual thoughts.

“No, it’s not. We need to get up.”

You stiffen in his arms, push yourself away, and to your surprise, he actually lets you go. Reluctantly and with a hollow grunt, but he lets you go. 

You rise with a wobble, and adjust your dress, your head spinning from his advances. You swear he becomes more man-like every day, every passing hour, even. Or is it just you who’s changing…? 

The Bull Man is up before you get to ponder on that thought for too long. Your heart and head struggle to find their footing for a moment, your legs are so weak you feel like fainting. He catches you before you fall, the warm, thick arms closing around you with stout affection.

“You need more heat?” He asks softly.

You look up out of habit, even if you can't see his eyes, covered by the carcass again because his voice is muffled.

“No… I’m hungry.”

He’s silent for a moment, probably thinking what he could do to help the situation. You fear he will suggest you go back to visit his “pantry” and eat whatever horrible, half-rotten man-flesh he might have in store there, but he only holds you close to prevent you from sliding back to the ground.

“Hmm. No mice up here,” he ponders. 

“You eat mice…?”

“Sometimes.”

You leave it at that: you don’t want to know what he’s had to do to sustain himself down here. You don’t even have a fire to cook the vermin, even if you would be ready to eat even those after another day or two without food. 

“Not a long way up,” he says. “We will reach the sun soon. Then I’ll find you something to eat.”

“How do you know that…?”

“The air smells different.”

You sigh and search for the string, your lifeline to the outside world. You can’t wait to get out of here, and with both hurry and an odd dread, you hike for what seems like another whole day. Tension, hunger and thirst distort your thoughts, and you’re sure by now that the time flows differently here in the Underworld. With no small amount of pride, you feel accomplished to have survived this place so far. Even gods have had to do some tricks to escape the nether worlds: it is no small feat to charm the Minotaur and then walk out of here unharmed. 

To your knowledge, you’re the only one who has ever escaped the Labyrinth. You haven’t even had time to think about what you will unleash with you… The demon that walks on your heels will take his revenge, not only on the king but on the city who threw him here. 

Well. It’s their problem now. Minos and Pasiphae simply have to deal with their successor. The world will simply have to deal with the Underworld’s wrath. 

And oh, how Hecate would laugh if she saw this monster prince of Crete escape his prison because of you – the feared Minotaur set free, only because he’s mesmerized by a woman. You suspect he would have his cock jumping for any girl, though. It's not because you're an exceptional sorceress that he follows you: it's your cunt he's after. And it shouldn’t make you feel jealous that he probably gets distracted the moment he sees a better offer walk by.

But it does. In your darkest wishes, you would keep the Bull Man all to yourself. Get him a leash, perhaps... Feed him with your own hands and let him grope you in the dark, watch him go wild from lust when you finally give him access to your cunt. 

Many would hardly think you’re a virgin if they took a peek inside your head. But the things you’ve seen and done, the white bulls you’ve slaughtered for the dark Goddess, adorning them with cypress wreaths before slashing their throats open, would turn any woman bleak and twisted like this. For once, you would like to save the bull from slaughter.

When you see the first evidence of light, your body lets out a sigh it has been holding ever since you arrived here. Seeing the sun gives you more strength than any food or meal, and you pick up your pace while the Minotaur behind you begins to hesitate. 

“It’s too bright,” he says before you’ve even walked out of the tunnel, now turning into a vast cave, the entrance to the Labyrinth. 

You turn around to look and stop in your tracks when you see the fear in his eyes is acute. It’s mixed with wonder, the curiosity wrestling away doubt slowly but surely. He only needs a little nudge, a gentle pull, an enticing little smile and eyes that he can trust.

“You’ll get used to it soon,” you extend your hand. 

He takes a step, then another, then another, until he reaches your outstretched fingers, and hand in hand you walk out of the Labyrinth and into the bright morning sun, burning over the kingdom of Crete.

He’s only a breath away from panicking, but covers it well. You wonder if it’s truly the light that’s too bright or if the feeling of being so exposed is what makes him so afraid. Clearly, the vast space opening up before him is intimidating. 

There are grassy plains as far as the eye can see, little hills that dot the horizon, and skies so expansive and bright it must hurt his eyes. Goats are grazing under the sun, trees are bending in the wind, the rustling of leaves and the sound of birds calling him to look in all directions as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings.

“It’s alright,” you give his palm a soft squeeze, and the way he looks there under the sun, so big and powerful and able, and still so utterly lost, is giving you heartache you haven’t known since you were a child.

“There’s… so many colours,” he says, looking at the blue summer sky, the deep olive greens, the dirty whiteness of the goats, the flowers upon the grass. A butterfly, flying past, yellow like the citrus that people harvest from a few miles from here. A big blackbird with an orange beak, swooping down to catch a cricket, the slate grey pigeons flying so close to the sun that he has to shield his eyes even if they’re already safe and sheltered under the bull head.

Seeing his wonder and awe makes you look at the scenery so differently that it burns, it actually hurts: there’s so much beauty in the world, and you have always taken it for granted. Cursed the rain and the storms, cursed the droughts, cursed the gods for sending down another famine, when in truth, the world was filled with abundance, of colours, of life and joy… And all you’ve done is worship darkness. Now the darkness is out: it’s standing next to you, watching the view of your mundane everyday life like it’s nothing short of a miracle.

And when you turn back to look at him again, his eyes are upon you.

“What?” You ask, freshly caught in your moment of weakness.

“You are pretty,” he says, eyes wrinkling with delight under the mask. 

Gods damn him… 

He doesn’t know that human men don’t act like this, talk like this, or if they do, there’s usually something vile involved behind it all. He doesn’t know how to play games, he was never introduced to the lies and deceit of the world.

The Bull of Crete only looks at you with soft fondness in his stare – he doesn’t understand that he should cover that softness as well if he intends to win. Any woman could put a leash on him before another moon has passed, but he doesn’t seem to care. And it’s not even heat or hunger that makes you weak this time... It’s those eyes, looking at you with more and more warmth.

“Nonsense,” you huff without a voice, and turn towards the old road with an adoring bull on your heels.

The cold sigh of the underworld is quickly left behind you as you walk up the old carriage road, nearly grown in with weeds. The Labyrinth is located miles away from civilization, but the people living in these hills are used to the cold cave by now. They trust that the Minotaur will never escape and only turn away their heads and close the doors of their huts when the screaming, crying human sacrifices are delivered to the mouth of the cave. Little do they know that the monster is now looking at their little hills and goats with delight, not bloodlust.

For the Minotaur is fascinated with your world: he has to touch every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, it seems. The goats are afraid of him, but one small nanny is bold enough to come and sniff his hand. Perhaps it remembers that beings walking on two feet give her apples sometimes, and the giant studies this small white animal with gentle curiosity, allows the goat to smell his hand, only chuckles when the goat gives out a little scoff when she notices there are no treats to be found there.

The vision is more adorable than when you’ve seen children play with kittens, and no matter what you do, you can’t turn your heart into ice anymore. You were taught that the Minotaur is a monster who enjoys torturing his victims, creatures far more helpless than him. Now you see him watching the she-goat with warm curiosity, rumbling softly inside his helm, far from the ravaging beast that approached you in that tunnel what seems like months ago.

You watch him with tender sadness as he marvels at the sky and remembers how he used to sit in the shade of an olive tree when he was a child. He goes to sit there now and examines how the sun filters through the massive branches of the tree as if trying to recall the memory. 

He asks questions like: “How can you humans stand this heat?” or “Why is there only one road?” and listens to your answers carefully.

He says he can smell the sea, even if the salty water is miles and miles away, and gets curious about what’s behind that hill, or that one, what about that one… You wonder if he’s even interested in killing the king anymore and suggest that he could just forget about this cruel place and buy himself a sea voyage with that expensive sword. He could get rid of his helmet and ask if anyone needs a goat herd or an able-bodied man to help at construction sites or stables; he could get work from the docks any day, sail to Athens or some other big city, forge himself a new life. 

But he doesn’t want to.

He says he has to avenge his mother who always cried when he was little.

More wretched tugs pull at your heart as you approach the city. The lovely summer’s day turns into a nightmare once people see who’s on his way to the heart of Crete.

You don’t understand their screams, not anymore, while only a few days ago you knew they preceded death. The Minotaur doesn’t kill anyone, mainly because he doesn’t have to. Everyone flees before his wake, people rush to their homes and bar the doors, even soldiers slip away to be with their loved ones or run to warn the king if they have any loyalty left. 

You’re left to walk through the marketplace in settling dust and tense silence as the Bull Man explores the abundant samples of food on display. He has to have a taste of everything from all stands, but only after he has offered figs, olives, grain, grapes, grilled meat and fish to you first.

“Eat,” he says and shoves a handful of pine seeds your way. “You were hungry?”

“This is not the way to–” you ignore the food only through sheer willpower. “This is not right. People own these things. They sell them at the market, you need to pay for these.”

“Pay? With what?”

He looks at you for a moment, unable to recall what money is and how these things are supposed to work. He probably had his mother’s servants bring him everything he needed as a child anyway, so how could he know? 

“They will take your hands for stealing,” you try to explain with softly building despair.

“I will take their heads before that.”

“The next king will hunt you down and punish you,” you rush after him, and when he won’t listen, you seize his hand and finally get him to halt. He looks down at the weak palm around his wrist, then raises his gaze to you.

“Bulls don’t have kings.”

Your attempts to tame him are futile. The things they’ve taught him to be are now being used as a way to escape responsibility, and while it’s none of your business, you refuse to let him believe that he is nothing more than an animal.

“You are not a bull,” you wail in frustration. “You’re a man.”

He hesitates, only for a moment; the gentle, loving gaze makes your legs weak.

“You’re the first to think that.” 

Then he rips himself away from you, softly but sternly.

He doesn’t need directions to the palace: he knows he has to head for the most prominent building in the city to reach the king. The grandiose heart of Crete, white-chalked and beautiful under the burning midday sun is the pride of every citizen, even if it houses another monster.

You sigh as you watch him go: the Bull Man, the demon of the underworld, the one you thought would rape you bloody before you get to crawl out of the Labyrinth. The fact that he wanted to kill his father more than he wanted to be born again into a new life wasn’t a surprise, but that he chose to bloody his sword rather than his cock is somehow... insulting, almost. 

What actually haunts you is how your insides coil and turn when you rush back to your temple. It’s not like you thought the Minotaur would take you with him. Board some trade ship bound for distant shores, and ravage you ever so softly in the belly of the creaking hull. It’s not like you dreamed of petting him to sleep while you two embark on a new life. But the way your heart twists and wails inside your chest makes it clear that losing him is even more painful than losing Theseus and the life he promised you. 

You never even wanted Theseus; you only wanted him to take you away from here. His affection would have been the result of ample witchcraft at best.

He’s practically already dead, and your heart turns to stone far more slowly than you would prefer. It’s just your luck to first have the golden hero of Greece look down on you in disdain, and then witness even the Bull Man walk away from you like you never meant anything to him. Men killing each other is the oldest story in the world, and you want no part in it, but something in this beast has stirred you awake from a long, cold slumber. It’s infuriating that you can’t dispel a simple animal from your heart. Oldest story in the book, that one, too…

But oh, how you now yearn after some cruel, lowly, dirty beast… The Minotaur already owns you, and he never even had to plunge his sword inside you to prove that. Besides, you would’ve been perfectly willing had he decided to take you on the green grass, under the vast sky, while some noisy goats graze around you. You realize that that’s what you expected to happen, and when it didn’t, you’re left more than disappointed: you're left completely hollow. You always find out these things a little too late, it seems… The Bull is headed for the palace and will likely get killed after he slaughters his cruel father. There’s at least thirty spears in that building, and more will arrive when called.

You arrive at the temple, panting and with your body flushed and weak. The maidens at the entrance share a quick glance with each other before turning their fearful gazes back to you. They’re the youngest arrivals, not even initiates yet; one of them hardly even bleeds. 

“The King is dead,” you announce without bothering to even greet them, and the girls huddle up together like they’re a bunch of slaves about to get slapped.

You realize you must look like an animal with your dirty robes, dishevelled hair and your wild, alive stare. No wonder they look like they’ve seen a ghost... You basically are one, coming back from the dead like this.

“What?” 

A priestess arrives at the threshold like an image of Hecate herself, dressed in robes as black as the midnight sky, but you don’t shy away from her like you used to.

“Or he will be. Soon. The Minotaur is here.” 

“How did you… How did it...”

You’ve never seen the priestess in disarray. She’s always composed, cold and distant, but seeing you like the wraith that you are, freshly escaped from the Labyrinth, spat back from the bowels of the earth like the dark gods didn’t even want you there, makes even the greatest of Hecate’s servants a little uneasy. 

She gathers what’s left of her dignity and finds her most commanding voice. Sadly, it doesn’t have the power to shake the ground anymore.

“Where is Theseus of Athens?”

“Disemboweled… is my best guess,” you say in a listless voice, then turn your head toward the smell of fresh fruit.

Normally, you would walk these halls with dignity, but now, you simply barge in and grab the first piece of food you find. You ought to get whipped for your insolence, but no one dares to raise a hand against you. The maids and priestesses stare in shock as you eat and drink like a starved prisoner. You’re a living Hecate in certain aspects, your arrival the first toll of the bell of doom as the palace guards sound the alarm.

So…

The Minotaur has reached the king.

…

The priestesses deem it only logical that the King finally pays for his sins: the gods have been offended by the number of human sacrifices sent to the Labyrinth, and this is their way of exacting revenge. You were only an instrument of their will.

After a quick wash and some more food, you begin to feel like a human again. The maids bring you a new chiton, flowing and white: your old clothes are burned in a brazier as if that would help you forget.

And this might be the only place you don’t get blamed for unleashing a monster. You were at a crossroads with the Minotaur, and anyone would have done the same: try to talk him out of his killing spree, calm him down, entice him with a gift. No one expected that the beast could even speak, so your approach was unusual, perhaps, but it worked. Hecate guided you through the tunnels, even when the candle went out, she stilled the Bull’s loins until you reached the sunlight where the beast got distracted with other things. You leave out the Minotaur's attraction to birds, bees and butterflies because your story is unbelievable enough as it is.

But the Minotaur will be slain after he has done his deed: Minos is the one who should be punished, not the city of Crete. And it is only just to put down this beast, a mercy.

So when he appears between the pillars of temple, this time wholly covered in blood, people are bound to scream. Even the priestesses who are used to seeing blood, shriek like widows when the Minotaur steps inside the holy shrine of Hecate.

“Where is the maiden of the crossroads?”

He came back for you, after all…

The boom of his voice is familiar, and yet, you cower on the bench when you hear it. The Minotaur sounds like he’s an envoy of Hades himself, and while you’re not among those who scream and yell, it still sends shivers down your spine to hear him speak like that.

Or is it the excitement, a tiny flame of hope that makes you quiver like this?

“We all belong to the goddess,” someone peeps, the Minotaur now descending down the stairs.

The massive head turns, gaze like razor sweeping across the marbled shrine. You’re so far back that he can’t catch you, sitting behind many bodies and faces, and before you can force yourself to rise, the main priestess, the oldest, most crooked of the crones, steps forth to meet this beast.

“This is a House of Hecate,” she speaks. “No man is allowed to enter unless they are Death.”

The black carcass turns, but the priestess doesn’t waver. If anything, her spine turns into unbreakable metal before this man’s gaze.

“I am Death,” he says, far more gently than anyone would expect. Then he walks past the crone like she’s just a harmless elder. No one does a thing, because even the head of your temple is powerless now.

“She had a red string and a candle. Where is she?”

He grabs the first woman he sees, and you rise up before he decides it’s time to thrust his blade into someone to loosen the tongues of these women. 

“Please,” you take a hesitant step towards your Bull. “I’m here... I’m the one you’re looking for.”

The Minotaur lets go of the frightened initiate the instant he sees you. She’s shoved aside with little interest, the blue eyes behind the corpse now solely fixed on you. The way they soften into hazy ice makes your knees weak – that’s the stare of someone who recognizes their loved one among a thick, dull crowd…

“Come with me,” he extends a hand when he reaches you, strong legs swallowing tiles like he’s in a hurry to get back to you. You open your mouth, close it, and look at his hand, the rough, enormous palm held out for you to place your own little hand in.

“You belong to me,” he says with great weight when you don’t speak. It should spark the ire of the goddess for him to dare to talk to you like this… But mostly, your body sings. It tells you to take a step and take his hand: to let him have you, once and for all. 

“My place is here,” you utter, all power gone from your voice. All your dreams, all your fears are offering their hand to you with his, and the maidens, mothers and crones of this hall look upon your exchange with the Bull Man in stupefied silence. 

“You were sent down to me,” he presses on. “You are mine now. You belong to me.”

Your body is singing, singing, singing.

It’s not a request… Or a proposal. 

It’s a god, taking what’s his.

…

You swallow with nothing in your throat and look at the head priestess with helpless misery: she looks back with the eyes of a noxious Medusa, wholly dispassionate to the problems you brought upon yourself. And what could she even do? She’s unarmed against the claims of Hades: Death is now in love with you, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the city, as enchanting as it is, saying that it stinks and that he’s tired of the screams. No one wants him here; he already knows that, and the task he was meant to do is done. He doesn’t seem to be much moved by it either, only asking you if there is a place where he can wash the blood off himself. 

People become more bold when they see you walk out of the city. Not even the sight of a crimson demigod makes them watch their tongues. Insults and slurs follow you through the streets, shouts such as “Kingslayer!” and “Beast!” are accompanied with curses such as “You are an abomination!” and “Go back to your lair!” 

No one treats him as their prince and savior, no one sees him as the man he truly is. And because hatred thickens in crowds, you get your share of the insults as well. 

What kind of a woman would follow a beast like him? Have you sold your soul to the demons of the desert, or has Hades himself forced you to be with this monster? Are you behind the murder of their king?

“Must I remind you?” You turn on your heels, standing tall and proud with the posture of a queen. “According to the old laws, the one who slays the king is the next to rule.” 

“You led him out of the Labyrinth, didn’t you?” the voices ask.

“Gave him your cunt, too,” they sneer.

“You’re worse than the bloody Gorgon,” they mock, but you have a thick skin: if anything, you take it as a compliment to be referred to the mighty slayers of men.

What cuts through your heart is the filth and hate they spit at him, the man who has known nothing but loath since he was born. 

“Hecate’s whore… I should kill you first,” one soldier shouts with spit running down his chin.

The citizens of Crete would never hail the Minotaur as their king, but none can say the deed didn’t prove great strength. Some would even call it justice. He is the queen’s son, after all: he’s more royal than any of these dung-stinking peasants will ever be. He should never have been sent down to those tunnels in the first place.

Before you know it, the Minotaur swoops past you in haste, diving towards the screaming crowd with hunched shoulders and a fiery breath.

“Stop,” you say, and he halts immediately, gaze still directed to the one who called you a whore. The soldiers back away along with the peasants and tradesmen, these poor, humble Cretes who act like they never meant to be so mean.

“Let us go in peace,” you command, voice unwavering and stern. “Or I will curse you all. You and your families, down to the seventh son and seventh daughter.”

That manages to shut them up. The threat of a curse frightens these poor beasts even more than the enraged Minotaur breathing fire through his helm. No one wants rot and puke to follow them wherever they go; no one wants to doom their offspring with illness, death and sorrow. They disperse in all directions and only hiss and whisper as they go.

You spit on the ground as your last gift to these people, leaving the city of Crete with the ever-adoring Bull at your heels.

“You’re even prettier when you’re angry,” he says while walking next to you, voice thick with genuine passion and awe.

You roll your eyes: any man would cower before Hecate’s curse, but this one? This one only gets more horny. 

“Perhaps you are part bull after all,” you retort dryly.

“It takes more than one spear to kill me,” he boasts, but you don’t need more proof of his prowess. Surely, people have tried to kill him in the Labyrinth, but he’s survived every single attempt on his life – for that alone, he should be a decorated hero.

The only thing that makes you annoyed, however, is this childish need to prove he could’ve taken the whole city by himself just because some man happened to call you a slut.

“Mother said I’m a monster instead of a man,” he says, completely unaware that your snap wasn't meant as a compliment. He says it like he’s partly proud of it, and you finally sigh and turn. 

“Your mother was heartless. And wrong.”

The Minotaur only looks at you with a building passion that goes straight to your loins.

“But you’re not.”

“...What?”

“Heartless.”

You feel stripped naked before him, the way his eyes seem to burn away your poor dress. But the fact that he unearths your most guarded secret, just like that, is a catastrophe of a far wider scale.

You’re not sure who’s tied to whom anymore… Or if you’re tied to each other, the gods now laughing in their wine as they look down at you two: a fierce and bloodied giant following the maiden he stole like it’s you who took him and not the other way around.

You reach the roaring waters of a waterfall in silence, the night wrapping the lands inside a dark blue veil. Stars will be visible soon, and with the moon creeping up to the sky, you won’t be needing candles tonight. The silver mistress gives plenty of light for you to admire your beast, and compared to the thick darkness of the tunnels you emerged from this morning, it feels like a generous blessing.

You sit on the banks of the small, clear pond, utterly exquisite at nightfall. The sun’s heat has turned into a warm, caressing breeze, and you submerge your feet into the water, giving out a satisfied sigh as the cool pond embraces your travel worn feet. The Bull sinks to a crouch some distance away from you, curious about your obvious moment of pleasure.

“Did you meet her…? Your mother?” You ask from the cool water lapping at your feet – how can a simple man make you feel so restless and shy?

“Did you… kill her?” 

“She cursed me,” he says, sullen and wholly unsurprised. Time and time again, you are shocked by the hatred his own kin shows him. How can a mother be so cruel?

“How could I kill my own maker?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For everything.” 

You swallow before such unwavering love. The same man who cursed the gods yesterday  honours the womb he came from so much that he won’t raise a hand against it, not even when his own mother spits curses at him. You don’t know if it’s his greatest strength or biggest weakness, but sometimes you wonder if he’s more human than humans, this beast.

“I’m not,” he retorts immediately. “The king is dead. Mother is safe. I have you... This is the best day of my life.”

You turn to look at him. Time and again, the lack of lies and deceit in this man catches you off guard. It’s more painful than any wound, to see how the Minotaur has no protective skin against the corrupted human nature, that he is human nature before it was defiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you falter. 

The chiton pools around your ankles, and you wonder if the man even breathes anymore. You know your skin is glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, you’re aware that the water and moonlight play upon your skin and make you look like an illusion, powerful in its own way.

When have you ever faltered…? Back when you were a little girl, you reckon, the notion euphoric and eerie in your bones.

You rise up and undress before him nonchalantly, trying to ignore the fervid stare of your admirer. Unclasping the brooches holding up your white linen dress, you let it fall down and set you free, secretly reveling in the downright carnal stare now glued to your skin. 

Ripe for plucking, you think while stepping out of the pile of cloth and into the thin evening air. His gaze feasts on you: the plump breasts no one ever loved, the vulnerable navel down below, the dark triangle between your legs, the secret power it holds.

Heat pools into your core as you watch him: everything in your body turns warm and soft when you take in the utter heftiness of him. The mean, swelling phallus between his legs, the near inhuman strength those shoulders and chest possess. Your body is the complete opposite of him, ethereal, almost, compared to the absolute brute strength before you. 

His eyes linger there the longest until he rises too, stiff and dreamy, a beast entirely taken by a thrall. The loincloth is practically torn away, as if it’s only a nuisance he must get rid of immediately. His eyes never leave your shape while he bares himself, and the phallus, you notice, belongs to a human. It’s thick and wondrous, fully erect, adorned with dark curls and accompanied by a set of balls you’ve mainly seen on horses. Big, full and round but unlike animals, they’re covered in dark fur, almost black here in the evening light. Thick seed beads through the slit of his cock from simply seeing you, and the way his chest heaves makes it clear that this man is ready to mate as soon as he’s allowed to do so. 

“You need to take off your helm,” you lift your chin, thoroughly aware of your power over him, even if it’s laughable, a miracle that he doesn’t fuck you on the spot like the animal he is. “You’re a man, not a bull.”

His eyes don’t betray any kind of hesitation. He doesn’t seem to be interested in whether he wears his mask or not. He just blinks as if he’s indeed under a spell and nods.

“If you say so.”

The broad muscles flex as he takes it off, and what is revealed to you from underneath the head is both a surprise and a disappointment. There’s not a monster under there, only a man, a stoic, boorish, shaggy male who’s in desperate need of a wash and a comb. He’s somewhat handsome under all that facial hair and knots, actually, not bad at all – if you like your men rugged and wild. 

He lets the head drop to the ground with a thud as if it was never a part of him at all, and follows you into the pool like you’re his mother and he’s your cub about to get scrubbed clean. 

He seems to dwarf you, even when half submerged in the pond, leaning back with a sigh not unlike yours. If you’re afraid, your body has a peculiar way of showing it: even in the clear, glossy water, you can feel yourself get wet. Never have you seen such strength, not in any man: in horror and awe, you realize he could be a descendant of Zeus himself. As if providing proof to these claims, he looks up to the sky, mesmerized by the myriad stars dotting the vast, unattainable blue.

Using this momentary distraction to your advantage, you reach to pluck a handful of moss from the bank. With this soft little sponge in your hand, you hope to make it clear that this is indeed a bath, not foreplay. 

“They’re stars,” you say softly while slinking closer to him. “Have you ever seen them...?”

“Yes,” he rasps with his head lolled back, throat completely exposed. It always hurts your heart to see that he trusts you so fully. You are no threat to him – even if the gods changed the moss in your hand into a weapon of some sort, you wouldn’t pose any kind of challenge. And still, the way he allows you to creep towards him and wipe his rough hide with the makeshift sponge without so much as flinching is heartbreaking. 

“I have forgotten…” his voice drifts off as he examines the night sky, eyes filled with distant, glass-like delight.

“Beautiful, aren’t they...?” 

“Your world is pretty,” he brings his gaze back to earth and to you. “But you’re the loveliest thing I’ve seen so far.”

You almost freeze upon hearing that. His compliments always catch you off guard, but this time, something forbidden and long forgotten comes undone: a lost want, no, a need to hear such simple words of shallow praise.

“You do not scream... You do not run. Why?”

Your eyes are liquid, glass about to break as you set yourself on the task of scrubbing him clean. You refuse to get emotional in front of him: an initiate of the dark goddess, shedding tears when a horny man calls her pretty? What utter nonsense.

But then he grabs your wrist: not to seize back power, but to prevent you from escaping this fragile moment.

“You are different,” he agrees calmly, then releases you, but you reckon it’s mostly because he misses the soft rubs you were giving him. 

“Perhaps I’m crazy,” you breathe while looking at the damp curls on his chest.

Yes… That’s the only explanation for this madness. It has to be.

“Is that why you took me?” 

“I took you because you’re mine. I want you.”

“You can’t just take what you want,” you warn softly.

“Why not?” His head tilts a little to the side as he’s trying to make sense of you and the manners of your world. “Don’t you want to be mine?”

You lift your gaze and risk a look into his eyes, stripped from all facades as always. You even catch a passing wave of worry there: he had counted on you being as fascinated with him as he is with you. The hunger behind that want, the need to be something special to you, is a whole another issue that must wait until your head is more clear. Way more clear…

“Perhaps,” you confess.

“I have nothing to give you,” he shrugs, eyes looking slightly past you this time, out of shame or anxiety. It takes a while for you to understand he’s liking you to the goods at the market and thinks he’s expected to have money to be able to keep you.

“You don’t need to pay for me,” you smile, trying your best to disguise the soft amusement in your voice. His brows only furrow as he tries to calculate and think.

“I don’t understand the rules of this world,” he finally shakes his head. 

“I’ll teach you.”

For a while, he only looks on with fascination how you rub his arms and belly, basically massaging him with the wet moss. His eyes drift closed when you scrub the back of his neck, the stout erection only getting thicker under the cool water. You’re careful with his legs, not because you’re afraid he’s ticklish but because you try to avoid touching the huge cock already jutting up from happiness. It gives a few excited bounces when you wash his inner thighs, hopeful to get its needs satiated soon. 

“I can hunt for you,” he suggests. “Bring you food… Protect you.”

He’s visibly excited when figuring out a way to give you something in return. He wants to provide offerings for your company, your lore, and eventually, your cunt, too. You might be a virgin, but you’re not stupid: of course he wants the soft, wet prize between your legs. A pair of lovely tits to squeeze at night... Ears to groan hushed confessions into, thighs to nibble, bite and suck until you cry... 

“What do you think?” He asks, breath heavy from the bliss you’re already granting him by simply giving him a bath. “I could give you my heat. Please you...”

“You know how to please women?” 

“No. But you could teach me.”

The way he says it is not shy. Only tentative. A bear, walking on ice and hoping it would carry his weight. One wrong step and the ice will swallow him, spitting out his bones only in spring. 

And then…

“Do you know how to fuck?”

The ice holds, mainly because you’re too shocked to even slap or ridicule this man. His eyes bore into you with such unbridled greed that you have trouble keeping your precious pride intact.

“Of course,” you hear yourself whisper like it would be an insult to your intellect if you didn’t.

“Teach me,” he says, ever more greedily.

“I…”

Your jaw is left open, but not a word comes out. A strong palm closes around your wrist again, this time to bring you flush against him. The water laps at your skin, a distant crow cackles somewhere. Your hand is brought to his phallus, but he doesn’t have to wrap your fingers around it: you do it all by yourself, breath locked in your throat as you feel how hard and blazing he is.

“You want my cock,” he says, mouth only an inch from yours. “Don’t you...?”

You wet your lips – a mistake, because his half-lidded gaze darts to your mouth the instant your pink tongue lashes out. You’re in a predicament, but on the other hand, what else did you expect, taking your clothes off in front of a touch-starved bull?

“I’d give it to you happily,” he insists. “No female ever wanted to spread her legs for me.”

Or a leash. 

Your fingers tighten on their own, they mould around him. Like a bond…

“Really?” You breathe. “What fools they were...”

The cock gives a full throb inside your palm, exalted to be yours. But only a moment later, the dreaded Minotaur moves. 

You find yourself under him before you can even gasp for air: the soaked, hot body of a giant now pinning you on the grass and crushing you under it with ease. The weight of your error is fully pressed against you: he was never tamed, and you were a fool to think you could put him in chains.

The raw scent of earth and musk fills your nostrils, making the stars above you spin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, giving another rich pulse against your thigh. Gods, if he were throbbing like that inside you…

“You make my skin burn,” he growls into your ear, the heat of his skin now unbearable, the coarse hair prickling your skin from neck to thigh. “My loins, ache…”

“Are you a witch?” He asks, and you finally allow yourself to breathe.

If he only knew… But hexes and charms are of no use for you now: the only thing you can do is moan, apparently, as he dives for your neck, planting barbarous kisses on your skin.

Down, down, down he goes, pure avarice driving him to feast on every part of you. You’re too weak to stop him when he searches for the source of your intoxicating scent. Discovering it between your thighs, he dives nose-first into your sex, meeting your core with a hungry grunt.

Your back arcs with pleasure, your nails sink into his back: a funny thing to do when he’s already as close as can be. The trail of crude kisses leads him to your breasts, and you try to keep your whimpers in control, but a gasp erupts when he drags a hot tongue across your nipple. Massive palms close around your tits while you squirm in his hold: he doesn’t seem to be driven by the need to please you; rather, he wishes to study you first, examine how your body reacts to his groping. He leaves your breasts aching and sore, every bite and suck managing to make you wetter and wetter, your cunt screaming for attention by now.

“Gods...” you wriggle on the soft earthen bed, not expecting him to take you with his mouth first.

He withdraws, only a little, but his voice is surprisingly soft.

“Do I hurt you...?” 

“No… But this is not mating…”

“Even I know that much,” he says darkly, and grabs you by the waist, moves you around like a doll until you find yourself on your belly. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, demonic and keen. The broad shoulders force your legs wide apart when he’s seated there, waist-deep in the water, with you hauled to the shore like a siren.

Not a moment is wasted as he pulls you back to him by the hips: you’re drawn to all fours, a hot streak of cum dragging on the inside of your thigh from the cock that meets your skin. He grabs and steadies it with an annoyed grunt, and the fat tip is shoved straight into your folds, your nether lips parted with brute force almost. 

“Guide me.”

His voice is demanding, impatient as he drags the fat head up and down the entrance of your hole, coating his cock with your slick in the process. You wonder if it’s instinctual, if he knows that this is where he should poke and that it will hurt you less if he’s well-oiled. He’s about to rut you into oblivion the instant you tell him where to shove his cock, and the prospect only sends more sap flowing down your thigh.

“There…” you stutter when he finds it, the aching spot that’s leaking profusely. He pushes the head in, not by teasing but by bullying, almost forcing it inside from how tight and unreceptive you are.

“Tighter than my fist,” is his only comment, and it makes you shudder. “I will not last long…”

You wince from the burn, but the rest of it glides in like a dream, and suddenly you’re filled, to the capacity, one could say. He grunts just from the way your womanhood is hugging him, not sure what this foreign object inside you is – is it a good thing or a threat?

“Easy then,” you breathe a huff into the sweet night air, filled with fireflies and night birds who know nothing about the fucking you’re about to go through.

He doesn’t move – inside you, that is. Outside, he crawls forward until he moulds around you, heavy body enveloping you completely. The hairs on his thighs tickle the back of your legs, his chest scrapes your back just so as he demonstrates how you belong to him in every way. But when your cunt starts to squeeze him again, he swallows thickly.

“Does this feel good to you too…?”

You catch faint confusion and concern in his voice, astonished that such a soft, frail body like yours can take his cock just like that. Little does he know you’re still adjusting to his size, thanking all the gods that he doesn’t move yet.

“Yes,” you confess because it does feel good: his thickness inside you, stretching you both gently and violently, studying how it feels to be inside a loving, wet heat.

“Then I will fuck you every day,” his lips come to brush your ear. “Many times...”

You hear yourself whimper, more humble now than ever. No man would dare to take you on all fours, but here you are, like a bought bride about to get stuffed…

He withdraws a little, asks, “Like this?” when he returns with a rough, nasty thrust. The balls meet your mound, heavy on the tender nub you’ve flicked when you’re lonely, covering your mouth while you do it. Both your hands are planted on the ground now, your legs spread before this beast, cunt filled to the brim with his cock.

“Not so rough,” you warn, and he heeds your instructions to the letter until he’s moving in and out with a slow, delicious pace that allows you to feel every thick bump of him. Soaked now down to your thighs, the sounds of your mating is utterly sloppy and slick, and of course he’s curious.

“Are you always like this…?”

“Like… what,” you huff in between the slow, torturous thrusts.

“Soft,” he rasps. “Tight… Wet like rain.”

“No. It’s just when…”

“When you want to fuck?”

You whimper for an answer, mostly because he starts to slip from the agreed sluggish pace. His cock invades you with more urgency, chasing the eruption that must be generous from those thick balls that should belong to a horse.

“I knew it…” he says dreamily behind you. “Some women want to mate with bulls...”

He punctuates his newfound pride with a full, deep thrust, and you wince.

“You’re not a–”

“Keep telling yourself that, little maiden.”

He exhales a hot smile next to your ear, and you’re neck deep in love. Your mouth hangs open, your lids half closed and fluttering from the way he pounds into your poor, abused cunt. Heavy balls slap your swollen nub with careless abandon, making you squeeze his thickness every time he hits the end of you. His grunts become more animalistic with every thrust, and your cunt is a wild thing, leaking and weeping and throbbing until you fear there’s something wrong with you – no woman is supposed to be this needy for a beast…

I’m going to come… You realize in horror as the slick sounds of fucking overthrow even the coursing roar of the waterfall. The knowledge shoots your body full of dark, hot ink; it explodes inside your core like a liquid star, throbbing through your cunt currently being ploughed like you’re nothing but a needy, sloppy hole for him. You’re swimming in so much pleasure that it’s almost painful, the revelation some secret of the gods, no doubt. 

He growls when you moan, heavy arm snaking its way around your middle to keep you in place for him. The purr is eager and low, the rumble erupts from his chest like a thick, loving volcano, a statement of how perfect you are. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and rubs his scent all over you while fucking you through it, the divine rapture that leaves your throat dry from moans. 

He doesn’t need to be told what it means when you’re crying like that: he doesn’t need to be explained that his cock is giving you ample pleasure. It’s so desperate, how much he wants to both fuck and please you, just own you and fulfill you, that you start to shake, your frail body not capable of handling the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your strength fails, and you find yourself on your elbows, cunt even more exposed to him now, the cock pistoning into you with a relentless pace. He’s like a titan upon you, taking pleasure from your quivering, weak frame and the tight wet hole that belongs to it. You’re still in rapture when he starts to sound like broken, wounded man.

“You were made for me,” he huffs. “You were made...for me…”

His voice evaporates along with your thin, adoring mewls, just before he fucks himself over the edge. You can feel the hot, thick spurts, filling you as he roars into your hair, balls pressed flush against your sex, thighs meeting yours in a moment frozen in time. 

They can probably hear him all the way to the city, hear what a cunt like yours does to an invincible beast like him… But his cries are only met with silence; the night sky looks back with disinterest, the birds continue their songs when they notice it was only the roar of a mighty beast that filled the land. Before long, he’s groaning above you, using your hole more softly; loving it until the last drop is milked. 

When he stops, his whole body is trembling from release, but you’re not given a moment of reprieve. He forces you to the ground with him on your back, the rough, thick body never leaving yours. Coarse beard chafes your neck, his body trapping you completely under him, he even opens his jaw to take your shoulder between his teeth and bites you while his cock is still pulsing fat inside you. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants into your ear, angry, almost.

“Good,” you breathe a smile, but he’s not satisfied.

“You couldn’t get enough of me too… I noticed.”

“You gave me pleasure,” you agree. “Lots of it.”

“That was a lot of seed… I haven’t spilled in days.”

He huffs into your ear, astonished and proud that he could do such a thing. You feel him shift to take a better look at you, fingers arrive to graze your temple as if to make sure you’re real, as if having his cock inside you wasn’t enough proof of that. They’re a little shaky, a little uncouth, but the touch is gentle enough, and sweet.

He's boasting again perhaps, you don’t know, but you give him a soft laugh, notice how he stops breathing momentarily when hearing the bright sound.

“I am filled to the brim with you, yes… It will take a while before I can take more.”

“...You have other holes in you,” he offers after a while, quite seriously, in fact. 

“Get off me, you beast,” you huff and squirm to get out from under him, but there’s a luscious grin on your face, a smile that tells him you would more than approve of his obscene ideas later. 

“This feels good,” he murmurs into your hair. “This feels right...”

He allows you to leave from under him, only whines when his cock gets exiled from your cunt. He misses the wet heat like a newborn child misses the womb, but you need to recover from the recent invasion. Seed gushes out from your hole, making a mess on the ground as he pulls you against him, wanting to cuddle you next.

You wonder if he even knows what cuddling means as you lie there with a sticky mess between your legs and the heat of an entire sun on your cheeks. You smile into the coarse, sweaty body hair tickling your nose, deciding it doesn’t matter whether he knows or not: the most important thing is that he wants to hold you like this.

“Yes,” you smile. “This feels right…”

Something blooms in your chest. An odd flower, persistent and sweet. 

The stars above are cold but motherly as they look down on you two: born again into a world that doesn’t want either of you. The only things that accept you now are flowers, birds, the wind and the rain, bees and salty sea, but that’s aplenty. That’s more than the whole of Crete could ever give you.

“Are you thinking about your hero,” he asks above you.

“What? No…”

“Good,” he rasps, so softly now that you start to fear he’s about to cry.

You are more than capable of lying, but Theseus hasn’t crossed your mind in hours: the last time it did, the memory was received with loath and disdain. Thinking about Theseus while you’re draped all over your Bull, his seed flowing out of your womb... What a ridiculous idea. 

The reason for his hardly disguised anger is laid out plain before you: he's just jealous like any other man. Somehow, it makes you feel even more glowy inside.You’re my hero, you want to say, but have no courage to spill out the words. He was balls deep inside you mere moments ago, but telling him this intimate truth seems to be too much.

It never occurred to him, then, that you would enjoy copulating with him. He fucked you with the impression that you needed thoughts of another man to make you wet… That perhaps with the help of the image of Theseus in your mind, you were able to come with his cock inside you. 

“My Bull,” you whisper. “Tell me your name. You must have a name…?”

His breath stops only for a moment, the heart in his chest gives an arduous beat before he answers.

“Asterion.”

Starry one…

Of course.

All monsters have names, usually the opposite of what they’re claimed to be. His birth is in heaven, in the stars; he belongs to the company of heroes and gods.

“Asterion,” you whisper it out into the night air while the animal an man both find their new home in your arms. “Your birth is written in the stars. Did you even know…?”

“Does that make me a hero?” He snorts, more old wounds torn open right before your eyes. 

You wriggle yourself out of his hold, but he avoids your stare. You lift a hand to bring those beautiful Olympian eyes back to you.

“It makes you immortal.”

Perhaps you should’ve known he would be enticed with an apple instead of tethers and deals. Or with a palm, held out with no intent to strike… 

It’s lovely, how he blinks every time he’s confused. You’ve yet to see him shy, but if he ever is, this might be the moment… You even catch him swallowing under that wild facial hair, an awkward blob right after that blink when his birthright is acknowledged.

But even more dumbfounded he becomes when he realizes you’re truly and veritably admiring him. When you whisper it to him – you’re my hero – and watch something shatter in him that was supposed to wrench itself free, that’s when he’s truly granted divinity.

Perhaps it was all about becoming animal again, allowing the other to have a sniff. Baring your throat and embracing the instinct to trust. Marrying your wild soul… The deepest magic of all.

[neopolitan-noir]

.

[luvrxbunny]

need

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Thigh Fucking

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv attempts, hurt pussy, some sad feelings, creampie(?)  (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: *sulking in a corner* not proofread at all

He’s gotten used to it, the constant stabbing pain at the base of his stomach, the daydreams and fantasies that plague his every free minute. He’s more sensitive too, you can do anything and it’ll turn him on, make him hard, or raise a new fantasy for him to jerk off to later that night. He got used to waking up in the morning with a throbbing pain between his legs, or a cold wetness soaking his underwear. He got used to having to sneak away to the bathroom, lock himself in his office with his blinds pulled shut because you decided to drop by, or you made him lunch and left a note that was a bit too cute for him to handle. 

He never asked why you didn’t seem to have any sexual interest in him. He assumed that you either didn’t want him that way, or you weren't ready. So when you told him that the real reason was because you’re a virgin… His pain increased tenfold. All his fantasies, all the material he could think of late a night became visions of him taking your virginity, working his fat cock into your tight, unused, untouched, hole. It became a hindrance to his day, something he thought about more than he worried about canon events. He couldn’t get you out of his head, he didn't want to pressure you so he didn’t voice desperation, but it’s like you were trying to provoke him. 

You became more open, more okay with talking about sex, and your fantasies and asking him questions, voicing your curiosities. He found out that you actually think about him quite a bit, almost all the time apparently. There was an entire night, filled with a few blunts and alcohol where you spent hours, literal hours, telling him about all the fantasies you’ve had. You told him about your most used ones, all the ‘odd’ things that turn you on. He had to hide his boner, almost crushing his beer in his hand with how tense he was and his needs doubled again, turning his blood to molten lava.

Then you offered it to him, you came to him and told him you wanted him to be the one who takes your virginity, you wanted his cock to be the first to enter your special little cunt. He almost blacked out. He came at you like a frenzy that night, licking and sucking every part of your body before working you open and lining himself up with your precious hole. Only to find that he couldn’t fit. You couldn’t take all of him, he was able to get a quarter of his dick inside before tears were streaming down your face. You told him he could keep going, that you could take it but you were on the verge of sobbing, there wasn't one break in your stream of tears and this is not the way he wanted you crying on him. He pulled out against your will and spent the night comforting you, telling you it’s fine, that you can try again, as many times as you need… and that's what you guys did. 

It’s been about two months of trying to fit him inside you and it’s becoming unbearable. You guys try every other night, sometimes taking more time in between if you’re too sore or you guys are swamped at work. You guys haven’t done anything else in this entire period of time, wanting the next thing you do together, to be him taking your virginity. He agreed not realizing how long it would take. His hand is nowhere near sufficient anymore, no matter how he tries to pretend it’s yours- especially now that he’s had half his dick inside you. It’s a cycle of build-up, tease, Miguel comforting you, and no-release. 

You’re both pent-up. It’s another night of disappointment, you guys had gotten a little further this time, almost his whole cock and you began to think that this was it, Miguel was finally going to have your virginity. Instead, you tore. It was small, it didn’t even feel like much, a sharp burn at the base of your hole. You decided you would just power through, the burn was worth the fulfillment you’d feel at taking him all, at long last, having your boyfriend be completely connected with you, completely surrounded by you. But Miguel knew you were bleeding, there wasn’t enough that he could see it but he could smell the copper in the air and he forced you to stop. 

You fell asleep upset with yourself and listening to Miguel’s loving words, assuring you he’d rather you enjoy yourself than power through for him but you just felt like a failure. All your life you dreamed of losing your virginity to someone you love, someone who cares about you, someone who deserves it, and now that you’ve finally found that person, you can’t even give it to him. You’re too embarrassed to concede, to give up and jerk him off instead. You want him to cum inside you, you’ve even started birth control secretly, hoping to surprise him once he gets close enough. You’d fantasized about the moan he’d let out once telling him that he can just cum inside you, but you’re too small to even get him anywhere near cumming, let alone inside you. 

You wake up to Miguel groaning in pain, you’re a bit scared at the noise but your fear gets replaced by sadness once you see the source of his pain; a fat bulge resting over his thigh, tenting the sheets slightly. You peak up at his face, making sure it’s slack with sleep before focusing on his hard cock again. You sit, lift your head and rest it on your palm, leaning over Miguel a bit as your other hand comes to stroke over the bulge gently. Your eyes are fixed on his face, watching his eyebrows twitch with your touch. It brings a little rush of pleasure through you, knowing you can pleasure him with the slightest bit of pressure. 

You cover him with your hand, cupping it to feel its length and girth against your palm. He whimpers lightly, a sound you’ve never even fantasized about hearing from him, but you know that no matter what you do, you need to hear it again. You can feel his warmth and the way he’s pulsing under your hand, his fingers dig into the sheets gently next to his thighs and his hips lift off the bed momentarily, trying to pleasure himself with you. 

Your eyes leave his face to watch his movements, deciding to give him some mercy and rub your hand along his shaft, stimulating him through his sweatpants and the thin blanket. You’re mesmerized by his stuttering, sleepy movements, at the soft whimpers that fall loosely from his lips. A gasp breaks the trance and his hands lift from the bed quickly to grip your wrists and his hips thrust up, forcing your palm to put pressure on his sensitive cock and just stay. “B-Baby- ”

His voice is thick and confused with delirium, still not completely aware of what’s happening but all he knows is he doesn’t want you to stop. He’s buzzing, thrumming, and vibrating with arousal, with desperation for you, need for you.  

His eyes meet yours in the dark, taking in your obviously turned-on state, how dilated your eyes are and how your sweet scent is already soaking the air, your taste ghosting over his tongue with every breath he takes. His eyes roll back at the thought, paired with your pressure on his throbbing cock and you pull away. He tries to hold in his groan, trying to be grateful for anything you’ll give him but a small squeak of sadness is what comes out and he chuckles softly at the noise. 

You’re still silent, surrounded by your need for him, the only thought in your head is that you need to make him cum. His thick arm comes around you, resting next to your shoulder and pushing you to him gently, nudging you in his direction for a kiss. You smile and drape yourself over his chest, leaning on him and pressing your lips to him. He groans and pulls you closer, admiring your warmth and pressing his cock into the plush of your thighs as he pulls you on top of him. You giggle and help him situate you over him, the base of his cock resting against your neglected clit, sending a shock of pleasure through you and turning your giggles into a light whine. 

Miguel breathes in a sharp breath at your noise, trying to ignore how badly he wants to hold you down and just grind his cock into you until he cums, staining his clothes and hopefully leaving a mark on yours but he keeps himself in check, offering you a fond smile instead. “You okay, amor?” His hand is rubbing up and down your back now, calmly like he isn’t throbbing against your clit right now. You think of just grinding into him, sitting up to straddle him,  and just fucking his bulge into your clit until you’re cumming all over him. “I wanna cum.” Your voice is weak and pathetic, tired and desperate. 

His eyelids flutter at your words and tone, and his arms tense around you, pressing his muscles into your sides for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Yeah? I can-” He takes another shaky breath as his cock throbs beneath you. “I can make that happen, baby. How do you want it?” His stomach is burning at his words, at the hope of getting to touch you, to make you cum. You’re just staring at him, watching him as you think, trying to figure out a way that will satisfy you both. He’s just getting hotter under your gaze, riled up further by your eyes as his hips rise off the bed slowly, pressing his cock into you subconsciously and his eyelids flutter shut at the pleasure.

Your brain is hazy with his movements, his subtle desperation, it’s driving you crazy. You arch your back and seize his lips again with a soft moan. His hands grip your hips, pulling you into him with a groan. You pull away and pant against his lips, running your fingers through his slightly tangled curls and pressing your forehead against his. “Put it against me. Between my thighs.” He growls at your request and flips you both onto your sides, already nodding at you and working his sweatpants off of his legs, kicking them off under the covers. “You want that, honey?” 

His hand cups your face as his other wrestles his cock from its confines. “You want that? Take these off.” He yanks at your underwear, roughly enough that they dig into your skin harshly before snapping back. You wiggle them off and slide your shirt off, wanting to be as close to Miguel as you can. You can’t stop the pout that settles on your face when you realize he plans to leave his shirt on. He laughs lovingly at your face. “Want me to take it off?” He says with a teasing tilt to his voice. You laugh and slide closer to him, taking the hem of his shirt into your hands and already trying to pull it over his head. “Jus wanna be closer t’you, Miggy.” 

The nickname flips something inside him. You only use that name when you’re feeling extra soft for him, extra tender, and needy. “Yeah, sweetheart?” He pulls you in for a quick kiss before taking his shirt off and kissing you again, swallowing the whine you give him when your naked body rests against his. His wet cock slides against your skin, teasing his sensitive tip, forcing a ragged moan from his mouth when it slides over your mound. You giggle at his reaction, smiling at his eyes, squeezed shut as he takes slow breaths, trying to calm himself. You open your legs, grip his cock, and rest it on your thigh, his eyes snap open. You smile and pull him in for another kiss as he reaches behind him blindly for some lube, lotion, coconut oil- something to get your thighs anywhere near as wet as your pussy is. 

You take rest your hand over his as he rubs himself with lube, moaning into your mouth at the sensation. He brings his hand to your face, giggling and apologizing when it smears with lube but devouring you in a kiss once you tell him it’s okay. You close your legs over his cock and whimper into the kiss when his shaft fits itself between your lips. He pulls away with a moan and his hips start fucking into you fervently, overly sensitive and desperate after months of denial. You’re moaning loud and whiny at the way he’s assaulting your clit, constantly stimulating her from the way he’s thrusting against you. You’re digging into his shoulders, feeling the way they flex as his hands grip your hips and run all over your body frantically. 

“I’m not gonna last, mi amor.” The words spit out of him quickly as his thrusts get shorter, more focused on making himself cum than making the moment last. His head is clouded with need, his balls are pulsing painfully and his cock is throbbing between your thighs. You’re gripping his hair like you’ll fly away if you let go and moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. Your hips are bucking into him too now, some incoherent words falling from your lips like music to his ears. 

You’re trying to tell him that you won’t last either, that you’re on the brink of cumming already, that you’ve been craving him for months, and finally having him is one of the best things you’ve felt but your brain has been shut off since he started moving his hips. You can feel the heat in your stomach bubbling over already, spilling into your bloodstream as you shake against him. “Mig-” Your thighs tense and shake around his cock as he groans your name, almost overwhelmed with how you’re stimulating his cock, at how you’ve been unable to get any sound out but once you’re cumming you can find the strength to say his name. You’re shaking on him, your eyes are rolled back into your head and your jaw is dropped open in a silent moan. 

He’s able to grunt out a warning to you before thrusting once- twice- you reach down for his cock and spread your legs, opening to fit him against your entrance. His third thrust stutters to a stop and he’s cumming. 

Fuck. He’s cumming inside you. 

He folds over like he’s been punched in the gut, a rough moan tearing from his chest as his cock throbs against your wet walls. He sounds distraught, like you’ve ruined him. His entire body is tensing in time with the ropes of cum he’s filling you with. It’s an entire flood, a surplus of cum he’s pouring into you, he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. He never even imagined that you’d let him cum inside you, let alone that it’d feel so fucking good. He shudders out a groan and holds you to his chest, giving you curt thrusts to ensure he doesn’t push in too deep but still trying to fuck him cum into you. His eyes are crossed painfully and all the air is gone from his lungs as you pulse around him, massaging his tip and forcing him to give you more cum.

Your name is the only thing he can utter as his cock spews its last few ropes into you, softening and letting his cum leak onto your thighs, leaving a slick, shimmering trail on you as it soaks into the bed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ “we need to…” prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ “we need to talk.”

²⁾ “we need to get out of here- now.”

³⁾ “we need to get some rest, or we’ll be more of a hindrance than a help.”

⁴⁾ “we need to at least pretend to be civil - can you find it in yourself do that much for me, please?”

⁵⁾ “we need to get our stories straight before they separate us for questioning.”

⁶⁾ “we need to get you patched up.”

⁷⁾ “we need to get warm, or the cold will kill us before we have the chance to worry about anything else doing it.”

⁸⁾ “we need to move; it’s not safe here anymore.”

⁹⁾ “we need to look the part if we want to stand any chance at fitting in.”

¹⁰⁾ “we need to work together on this.”

¹¹⁾ “we need to get to him before they do.”

¹²⁾ “we need to play this close to the vest; i don’t know exactly what’ll happen if we don’t, but i don’t think either of us will want to find out.”

¹³⁾ “we need to get some food into you, you look like you’re ready to drop.”

¹⁴⁾ “we need to get them out of there!”

¹⁵⁾ “we need to stop and plan our next move; rushing in will only land us back at square one all over again.”

¹⁶⁾ “we need to start locking that damn door.”

¹⁷⁾ “we need to get your head looked at, i swear to g- “

¹⁸⁾ “we need to increase the security around here. i’m not taking any more chances, not after this.”

¹⁹⁾ “we need to end this, and you know it too.”

²⁰⁾ “we need to get our own place. if [roommate] walks in on us one more time, i’m genuinely never going to be able to look them in the eye again.”

²¹⁾ “we need to get a handle on this before it goes public.”

²²⁾ “we need to put a stop to this before anyone finds out.”

²³⁾ “we need to get away for a while, what do you say?”

²⁴⁾ “we need to figure out what it is we’re doing here. do you feel the way i do, or has this never been more than a fling to you?”

²⁵⁾ “we need to celebrate!”

²⁶⁾ “we need to get an answer out of him, one way or another.”

²⁷⁾ “we need to get in there; how remains to be seen.”

²⁸⁾ “we need to go get help!”

²⁹⁾ “we need to get better friends.”

³⁰⁾ “we need to come out here more.”

[caturdwy]

ok, i don't know why i wrote this, i'm not even a ford girl, i'm a stanley girlie all the way. but this image came to me yesterday and i had to write it down, so i spent my entire class working on this. it's not finished but i don't now if i'm gonna write more. here goes nothing

pairing: stanford pines x reader

warnings: smut (?), definitely sexual. 18+, mdni

word count: 1.5k

"Is that why Stanley calls you Sixer?" You ask, breaking the silence.

Your voice gets him out of his trance, but not early enough for him to actually hear what you asked. "Huh?"

"Is that why Stanley calls you Sixer?" You repeat yourself, pointing one finger at his hands.

He lets out a laugh and nods. "Yeah, he's so creative with the nicknames." He answers, voice full of sarcasm.

"Can I touch it?" You ask, finger still pointing at his left hand, the closest to you. "Your hand, can I touch it?"

He blushes and tugs at the collar of his sweater, voice faint. "Uh, yes."

You take your hand off your thighs and touch the back of his, feather light touch as to not scare him off. You observe attentively his reaction, checking if he will wince or take it away from you. Since he stays still, you take it as a sign to continue.

You grip his hand firmly, not harshly, and pull it closer to you. His gaze follows your every move, cheeks still a bit flushed, and he swallows dry. You start to touch just his fingers, pinching his phalanxes and moving them around before pressing on them and hearing them pop. His eyes grow a bit when you do it, not expecting you to do that.

You linger a bit more on his extra pinky, still fascinated. You touch it a bit differently, and wonder if you should ask anything about it.

"May I ask you a question?" You say out loud. Well, it doesn't hurt to try.

"Yes, go on." He speaks, still watching you closely.

"Is it ever a hindrance? Like, does it work like every other finger?" You ask, still with your hands focused on popping said finger.

"No, it's never a hindrance. It works just like the rest of my hand." He replies, pulling his hand away from your touch. He wiggles his fingers, moving every phalanx to show you, and then he lifts only his extra little finger and does the same thing. "See? Full control."

You let out a smile, finding it fascinating. It's at the very least interesting. Unusual. You like it. But you also can't help how your mind goes straight to the gutter.

You can't jump on this too fast, or you'll startle him. So you put your hands back on his and pull it closer to you, like it was before.

Stanford smiles back at you, a little awkward, sure, but you can see his flattery.

"Very interesting. Must be useful." You utter.

Meanwhile, your grip on his hand gets stronger, and you use both your thumbs to squeeze his skin, pressing on spots that are usually stiff.

"It doesn't make that much of a difference. My niece, however, always says it's friendlier than a regular handshake."

You let out a little laugh while pressing your thumbs on the back of his hands, paying attention to the tendons. You hear Ford suck in a breath once you hit what is apparently the right spot. "That's adorable."

"Yeah." He agrees mindlessly, but he's not really here. He's a bit distracted, hopefully enjoying the massage. "Yeah, she's adorable."

You change your focus from the back of his hand to the palm, going straight to the spot where his thumb meets the rest, the thenar area. He hisses a bit and you stop for a second, looking at his face to check if this was still okay. You can confidently say he was more than okay, because he has his eyes closed and the face of someone who was enjoying the situation. His back was not as stiff now and had a little arch to it as his shoulders leaned in towards your touch.

You do this to the entirety of his palm, running your thumbs on the soft spot on the middle of it, pressing on the flesh of his fingers, the side of his hand, dragging all the way to to the area of his carpals. The more you press and massage, the more he relaxes. Depending on what you do you even get an approvingly hum, almost a little moan. Of course these are the things you do again and again, just to hear him make any noise.

At last, you move his wrist in little circles, improving the circulation on the area before pressing both the dorsal and ventral areas. You give the back of his hand a little kiss before placing it on his thigh again, and point to his right, the farthest away from you.

It takes him a moment to register, his brain wrapped around a fog of calmness and relaxation. He's never felt like this before, he's never gotten a massage in his life, much less in his hand. And oh boy, how bad did he need it. He didn't even know his muscles could get that stiff, hold on to that much stress. A lifetime of stress, really. With just simple strokes of your own hands, that was all gone, vaporized. He's so out of it he doesn't even blush when you kiss his hand.

He lifts his right hand and shifts on the bed, figuring out a position that would be more comfortable to stretch his arm out, but still manageable for you to keep doing the sorcery you were doing. You keep following the same procedure, pop the phalanxes first, run your thumbs on the back of his hand, then go the palm, rub the thenar area out, press on the soft spot on the middle, massage the muscles on his fingers, the works.

The more you touch him, the more he relaxes, the more he lets himself go. He's feeling so light he can almost lift off the ground. If he lays on the bed he is sure he'll never be able to leave, the mattress and him becoming one. You think about saying something, but nothing comes out, not when he looks so good like this, all relaxed. Possibly the first time he's actually relaxed in his entire life.

After you are almost done you decide it's time to speak up. "Hey, Ford."

"Hmmmm." He purrs, not bothering looking up at you.

"Do you know what this makes me think?" You ask right after giving a kiss on the same spot you did the other hand. However, you don't let it go. You keep holding it, rubbing little circles on his skin.

"Hmmmm?" He hums again, but this time tries to voice the end like a question. This prompts a tiny laugh from you.

Now's the moment, he has his guard down. You move your body carefully closer to him, placing your face near his ear. Ford can feel his warm breath on the side of his face, the skin almost burning from the sudden heat. You pull out the sexiest voice you can make and whisper lowly, like a secret and he's the only person meant to hear.

"It makes me think of how good this extra finger would feel grabbing my ass."

He nearly chokes out, being pulled from his half-dreaming state and slammed back into reality, the blood split between rushing to his face or his lower belly, straight to his dick. He takes in a sharp breath, eyes opening and growing twice the size they usually are. You give him a little giggle from the reaction, finding it a bit funnier than it should be.

With all of his attention on you now, you place yourself a bit farther from him and bring the hand you're holding to your eye view, right in front of you face. You wait for him to look you in the eyes and put his thumb on your hot tongue. He jolts at the movement, but doesn't push back. You close your lips around it and suck it all the way to the back of your mouth. When you swallow everything, you circle your tongue around his skin while dragging it out of your mouth, little by little.

Stanford feels like his body is burning. Someone might as well have drowned him in gas and set fire to it. Once your tongue leaves his finger, he feels the cooling sensation the of the air coming in contact with your saliva and his dick gets incredibly harder.

He didn't want to react this way, he really didn't. Stanley hired you as a bad joke and he was not pleased about it, but hell. He can't not be turned on when you look at him like that, lips shiny and wet, breath hot on the skin of his hand, fingers still holding him by the wrists.

When he opens his mouth to say something, you catch him off guard again by kissing his index finger. Then his middle finger, all the way to his extra pinky, which you also suck while looking at him straight in the eyes. But he's weak, so while you're still halfway done putting the thing in your mouth he closes his eyes, trying to calm down the turmoil of feelings raging inside him.

You take his finger out of your mouth and it makes a wet, loud 'pop'. You give yourself a proud smile and lick the extra saliva off your own lips, bringing your body closer to his again. In the sultriest voice you can pull off, you whisper on his ear again. "How does that sound, Mr. Pines?"

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Sixteen

Eddie leans heavily on Steve as he walks. His whole body looks knobbly; he’s far too thin again, having clearly lost all of the weight he put on beforehand. His legs shake as he takes one tentative step after another, the blanket barely held together in Steve’s free hand, desperate to keep a little warmth for Eddie.

Steve is still favoring his injury a little when he walks, and that isn’t exactly helping things.

When they finally makes it to the stairs, Steve has to white knuckle the hand rail and take half of Eddie’s weight. Eddie struggles so much to pull himself up, one torturous step after another, and Steve’s foot really is a hindrance.

They really need to eat; especially Eddie, but he’s so crusted in filth he smells absolutely horrendous. His eyes look so sore too; Steve can’t ignore it, they have to get cleaned up. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to go through all of that only to die of a stupid fucking infection.

And thinking of that makes Steve remember that he’s just dipped his own injury in all that filth; he really needs to get cleaned up himself.

They finally make it, and Steve drops the blanket and helps Eddie over the edge of the tub and in, taking down the shower head so he can turn the water away while it warms up. Eddie just lies there, shivering with either cold or exertion or shock; or a mix of all three.

Steve uses his free hand to strip himself naked, his sweat pants are soaked to the knees in filth, the rest of him is pretty crusted from holding Eddie, he leaves all their dirty things in a heap, kicking it over into the corner of the bathroom with his uninjured foot.

Steve starts to rinse Eddie down, and he shifts under the feel of the warm water, eyes opening, “Stee.”

“Hey baby...lets get you cleaned up, okay?”

Eddie, with what looks like an extreme bit of effort, pulls himself up, making room. Steve gets in, kneeling between Eddie’s shaky calves.

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a single hair on his body anywhere; his head is completely bald, no eyebrows, nothing. It makes his ears look even more obviously pointed. His teeth haven’t changed either; just a tiny bit sharp. Steve grabs a flannel, resting the shower head for a second while he lathers it up.

Eddie’s head ridges are still there, but way less obvious than they were before. Steve finds them by touch, slightly raised lines on Eddie’s skull, but nothing else; like what would have once split has now healed over. Sealed.

Gone.

Steve works his way down, the water running down the drain a miserable black brown color that's leaving streaks on the bottom of the tub. Steve carefully cleans, but his eyes keep dipping; it’s kind of hard to miss the fact the Eddie doesn’t seem to have anything at all between his legs.

The filth comes off slowly, Steve using the flannel and shower head in tandem, scrubbing as gently as he can, “close your eyes baby,” Steve cleans around them carefully, wiping all the dried crud off the lids.

He cleans Eddie everywhere, the bumps of his ribs, between his toes, under his nails. Eddie still doesn’t have a belly button or nipples. His fingernails remain black almond shaped claws; his toenails though, look completely human, totally normal.

Steve finds he does have something between his legs, a narrow slit that was nearly invisible when Eddie was covered in crap. Steve cleans him there just as carefully, Eddie shifting his legs, lifting a thigh, to help, “Stee?”

“Nearly done baby,” Steve stands, putting the shower head back on the holder so he can quickly wash himself, taking a moment to carefully clean the area with the stitches, “you hungry? Food?”

“Food. Yes.”

Eddie leans forward, mouth open, letting the shower spray land on his tongue before closing and swallowing and doing it again, “thirsty?”

“Yes. Water.”

“Okay, we can do that next,” Steve finishes up, getting out of the tub carefully and toweling himself dry, before helping Eddie out on his incredibly shaky legs. Steve sits him on the lid of the toilet, ditching their toothbrushes into the sink so he can fill the cup with water.

Eddie, hand unsteady, drinks the whole thing in three long gulps. He does the same with the second. He sips the third more slowly while Steve dries himself off the rest of the way and leaves Eddie wrapped in a towel so he can find them some clothes. He also takes a minute to get out the first aid kit, propping his foot on the edge of the tub, he dabs disinfectant thoroughly over his stitches, “Stee ow?”

“No baby, it’s fine now. Promise.”

“Called promise?”

“Uhm...it means I tell many many many true? Like I promise it’s okay.”

Eddie cocks his head, and Steve’s heart feels tight in his chest with how much he missed him, how close they came to loosing him, “perfect true?”

Steve nods, “kinda’ yeah.” He packs the first aid kit away, “lets get you onto the bed, and I’ll go down and make-”

“No.”

“Eddie, you need to eat-”

Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, holding tight, “no.”

“Okay. Okay yeah, we go together.”

“To-gether.”

Eddie goes down the stairs on his ass, moving both feet together, dropping one step at a time, the same way he did when he had a tail. Steve doesn’t fight it, he just waits at the bottom. They can work on all of that shit another time. Stairs can be lesson three, after lifting with your knees, or something.

They hobble into the kitchen together, like the worlds shittest three legged race competitors, and Steve gets Eddie into a chair at the table in the breakfast nook. His heart sinks at the sight of the inside of the fridge; there’s fuck all food for Eddie, and what's in the crisper draw is either soft or fully gone off.

“I’ll get you some peas, be right back.”

Steve grabs a bag out of the freezer; Eddie looks so tired, slumped at the table in one of his sweaters and a pair of Steve’s sleep pants. Steve makes him a bowl of peas and sticks a spoon in it, putting it on the table.

Eddie takes a spoonful quite enthusiastically, then immediately pulls a face. He does chew, and he does swallow, but he’s clearly not impressed, “cold.”

“Yeah baby, they’re always cold.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “bad.”

“Oh. Well...I’ll make them hot?”

Eddie nods, pushing the bowl back. Steve takes the bowl, swapping them into a pot with some water and putting them on to boil. He decides to make himself bacon and eggs in a second pan while he waits, since that’ll be fast and easy.

He keeps looking over at Eddie; he can’t help himself really. Steve’s half convinced that this is one of those horrible dreams, and that something fucking awful will happen any second now. He looks so ill; it’s amazing how much of a stark difference the lack of hair has made to his appearance; it's, somehow, more shocking than his legs.

Steve flips his bacon and shuffles his eggs, then looks over again at Eddie. He’s up. Steve waits, breath held, as Eddie takes a dozen, tentative and shuffling steps across the kitchen. Steve stands with his hands out, ready to dart forward. He can’t help but think of a toddler taking his first steps unaided. Eddie makes it to Steve, taking both hands for the last few steps, “that’s great baby. You have legs!”

Eddie smiles wanly, “legs good...food?”

He looks over Steve’s shoulder at the pan, “yeah, you want to try?”

Eddie nods eagerly, and Steve slides the bacon and eggs onto his plate, giving Eddie the fork. Eddie eats both rashers of bacon with his fingers, using his claw like nails to lift the hot food and blow on it before he shoves it in, then he eats the eggs with the fork.

Steve’s toast pops while Eddie’s eating, “food?” he asks with his mouth still full of egg.

“Yeah baby, here,” Steve spreads both pieces with jelly, and Eddie eats those too, leaning against the counter. He seems a little better suddenly, a little more alert maybe.

“Stee food now?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” Steve makes it all again, Eddie watching avidly where he’s propped up against the counter; on a hunch, Steve makes twice what he wants to eat, pleased when he’s right, and Eddie picks off his plate, eating more.

Eddie burps, then looks shocked that the noise just came out of him. Steve laughs so much his eyes water.

They both stand at the bottom of the stairs, and it feels like looking up at mount Everest.

“Okay, we can do this buddy.”

“Not budidy. Baby.”

Steve sighs, smiling, “you got it baby.”

After what feels to Steve like forty days and forty nights of toil, they make it to the top. Eddie is very unsteady on his feet, like his obvious exhaustion is making his coordination worse again.

“Clean teeth,” he tells Steve on their way to bed.

“In the morning. They’re not going to fall out if we miss it once,” and the bathroom feels about fifty million miles away at this point.

They climb into bed together, and Eddie is asleep pretty much instantly. He’s snoring softly, quiet, but enough for Steve to hear it clearly. It makes it feel real almost. A confirmation that Eddie is really here, that he’s different now. Eddie never used to make a sound when he was sleeping; and now he does. Eddie has a leg thrown over Steve’s, and that’s real too.

Part Eighteen

[xianyoon]

the one who changes his mind

alhaitham x gn reader just sweet fluff where you are the sole person who helps him to change his mind about the intricacies of love. fluff. 0.4k

the first time alhaitham falls in love with you, he thinks he's gone mad. beneath furrowed brows and yellowed books of the akademiya stacked higher than his already large frame, romance is . . . practically unheard of, an alien feeling, for people like him. if there were even people like him.

alhaitham is convinced that romantic relationships are unnecessary and perhaps even detrimental to one's own wellbeing.

the hurt, pain, the betrayals – are they all worth it? is it truly worth getting drunk in awful hours of the night, over the loss of a once-held-dear love? the scribe refuses to be an experiment for that hypothesis.

love serves no purpose other than to offer a different perspective.

but, oh, when alhaitham meets you – little 'ol you, his little dove . . . you with your insatiable thirst for knowledge and your undeniable curiosity – big eyes that sparkle with childlike determination and wonder – 

it is only then that he is perhaps utterly convinced that not only might love maybe, just maybe, serve a purpose:

but also that alhaitham is indubitably, undeniably in love with you.

when alhaitham falls in love, he doesn't just fall – he plummets into the pit that he once deemed irresponsible and childish – and he plummets head first. how does a man who once believed that love was a hindrance turn into a lovesick fool?

"haithie!" you practically leap into his arms every chance you get, knowing that as surprised as he is, his arms move in quick succession to catch you.

"must you really call me that?" your lover stares at you, red in the face and giggling with excitement, burrowing your head further into his chest.

you look up and stare back at him as if it's the dumbest question to have ever been asked – even more startlingly so because it's from the smartest person you know. alhaitham doesn't fight the smile growing on his face.

"yes!"

he doesn't say anything else. there is no need to; the soft flush dusting his cheeks are a sure tell of his seemingly never-ending infatuation.

you are worth every salty tear that wins its freedom, he thinks. his song that could be played forever, a portrait he would hide away so no one else except for him could indulge in it – you are the love that offers him his different perspective, the one who turns every unhappy thought into a blessing-filled one, the one who changes his mind about the once-exhausting intricacies of love.

and yes, you are worth every bit to him.

[lesservillain]

vi. for you, there'll be no more crying

summary: things change between you and eddie for the better cw: SMUT, unprotected piv, a fight with rick, eddie recounts what happened to him last year a/n: it's happening!!!!

It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen Eddie Munson.

As you lay in bed after a long day of clinicals, your fingertips and toes still cold from the January snow nipping at them in your school uniform. The blizzard that hit at the beginning of the week left several feet of snow all across Indiana, leaving an appropriate setting for the way you’ve been feeling as of late.

Because you should be at the Munson’s today. You should have been at the Munson’s just about every day since the last time you saw them. But, unexpectedly, you’d been told that you wouldn’t be needed anymore, at least for a little while. It wasn’t a reassuring statement in the least. 

You’d took it as maybe just a couple of days, but as February draws closer, you’re starting to feel as if you’d never see your two favorite men ever again.

You didn’t know for sure, but you had a feeling as to why you’d been asked not to come back. It was…embarrassing to think about. You’ve been kicking yourself ever since it happened. 

That night on new years when you and Eddie kissed. Accident or not, it felt like the fireworks outside were going off behind your eyelids. Never have you ever felt so…so…connected to someone just from a kiss. And you were certain by the way Eddie was looking at you that he was feeling it, too.

But, now…Maybe he wasn’t red from enjoyment. Maybe it was from disgust.

You didn’t get much time to dwell on it, though. Because immediately after the phone rang, police chief Hopper calling for Eddie. It scared you to see Eddie’s face drop the way it did. You had a sinking feeling it had to do with Wayne. But when Eddie asked you to take him home right away, it left you confused. 

He wouldn’t tell you anything. Not even budging a little bit. 

“It’s not bout Wayne. He’s fine.” 

That’s the extent of information that you were given.

The next day is when Wayne called, reluctantly telling you that you didn’t need to come out for a while. They were having family issues and Wayne was going to be home to take care of him, so you didn’t have to bother with them.

You tried to argue. Tried to tell them that you would come out just to cook and keep them company if need be, but Wayne was insistent that you don’t make the drive out. At least not until they tell you it’s okay. You finally agreed, but it didn’t feel good. Especially since it didn’t make sense.

Eddie and Wayne made it very clear that they didn’t have any family in town. Eddie might have some grandparents in Tennessee, but they’re on his moms side of the family and they’d not heard from them in years. So what kind of family emergency could it possibly be?

After thinking it through, you’ve come to the conclusion that the phone call from Hopper was unrelated and that Eddie was just using it as an excuse to get rid of you. 

The kiss was clearly too much for him. It had you wondering if there were times where you’d been too unprofessional. Maybe you were supposed to decline their invitations to come over for holidays. They were just being nice asking you to come over, they didn’t actually mean it.

It was even worse when you called on Wayne’s birthday last week. No one answered, so you just left a voicemail, hoping for but not getting a call back. 

And, to top it all off, your clinicals were being held at Hawkins General. Their short staff made the need for help greater than any of the other hospitals around right now, so a lot of the workers there were working past their limits. You’d only just started this week and already felt like you were busting your ass.

The experience you had taking care of Eddie was definitely a help when it came to being more of a help than a hindrance. The patients seemed to really like you, too, which made you feel a little better. Still, you couldn’t help but wish that you were going straight to the Munson’s instead of having to drive all the way home to an empty house after a long day.

Tonya was correct in her suspicions when it came to Charles proposing, so she’d been spending more time with him at his house than at your shared home. It made sense, and you were happy for her. But you still missed having her around to cry on, especially when you were feeling this down.

As you drifted off to sleep, you decided that you were tired of feeling like this. You were going to go to the Munson’s home tomorrow after your clinicals. Even if they turned you away, you wanted to at least apologize for making Eddie feel uncomfortable. You wouldn't be able to go on if you didn’t.

‘If you’re lost, you can look, and you will find mee~” 

You belt Cyndi Lauper as you turn into the entrance of the Munson driveway. You were a little suspicious at the amount of tire tracks that seemed to be going up and down the snowy driveway. Maybe the boys had been coming over to see Eddie?

A sports car you’d not seen before sat in the driveway, taking the spot next to where Wayne normally parks his truck. But it was gone. Wayne wasn’t home, but someone else was here? 

You pulled into Wayne’s spot and threw your car in park. You were getting angrier with each new question you had bubbling up in your head. You walked around to the unfamiliar car, trying to see inside, but it was too dark and the windows were too tinted to see in.

The sound of the front door opening drew your attention, and you almost started yelling then and there when none other than Reefer Rick himself, illuminated by the porch light, stepped off the porch and peered around to see who was there.

“Well hello, nurse,” he called out, putting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You round the cars, stomping up to him, the sound of snow crunching under your white sneakers.

“Woah, woah, calm down,” he throws his hands up, the smoke billowing from his lips above your head. “I’m just here to hang out with Eddie while Wayne’s workin’--”

“Wayne’s at work?” You can feel tears starting to form. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Why--,” you sniffle, “Why didn’t he ask me to come out and stay with Eddie?”

“Um, that is because…-Oh! It was, like super, short notice.” He says, nodding unconvincingly. “Yeah, they just really needed him and, uh, he just didn’t think you’d be able to make it out tonight, ya know?”

“Bullshit.”

He looks at you wide eyed, “Wh-what?”

“That’s bullshit, Rick.” You stand your ground, giving him a look that could kill. But he only grew agitated, nostrils flaring as he towered over you.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re thinking you’re going to get for coming out here, but they don’t need you anymore.”

The words hit you like an arrow to the chest. All of your suspicions were right, but you…you just couldn’t accept it from him.

“I want to hear that from Eddie.”

“Tough luck,” Rick says, taking another drag. 

“I don’t need your permission to talk to him.”

“You do when he said he specifically doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

The tears fall, but you remain resolute regardless.

“I’m going to talk to him--hey!” You went to walk around him, but he stepped in front of you to prevent you from going any further. You tried it again, and he only moved once more.

“Damn it, just move!”

“I’m not moving,” he says sternly.

“What is this really about, Rick?” He reels back with disbelief. 

“What are you talking about?” He says, sounding exacerbated. “I’m trying to keep my friend safe and you wont take a hint? Is that what you want me to say?”

“Keep him safe? Safe from what?” You match his confused energy.

“From you!”

“ME?!” You’re pushed over your limit at this point. “Don’t even fucking try it, Rick. I’ll call you out for filth.”

“Do it then! I’d love to hear what you could possibly have to say about me!”

“Okay! How about the fact that Eddie used to be your biggest dealer? And that I know you’ve been trying to get him to deal for you again?”

“Wh-what? Are you actually insane?!”

“I’m not the insane one here! The man is in a fucking wheelchair! I know you bring your drugs over here, I’ve seen them in his sock drawer.”

“Yeah, because he smokes it himself! How the fuck do you think he’s been getting by without his pain meds, dumbass!”

Ricks words took you back. You knew Eddie wasn’t taking his pain medication anymore, but you thought he was doing okay without it. You didn’t realize it was because he was using weed to feel better.

“I’ve also not been selling it to him. I’ve just been giving him what I can so that the guy above me doesn’t notice. I actually never needed Eddie to sell for me, I’ve just been trying to help the guy out!”

“Oh, don’t try and get all high and mighty. Eddie may not realize it but I know that you have money. Probably from your mommy and daddy.”

Rick is quiet for a moment, the tips of his ears red under the porch light. You knew you’d got him with how long it took for him to respond.

“Listen,” he finally says, his tone much more serious. “Maybe I do have access to money in one way or another, but I’m not going to flaunt it in front of my friend when I know him and Wayne have struggled to keep the lights on. Eddie’s been like a brother to me since he started pestering me as a freshman, and I’ve done what I can to help them out. Things that only stay between Wayne and I, that Eddie doesn’t even know about, if you catch my drift.”

Your eyes go wide and you nod. The feelings you’ve had towards Rick up to this point should make you not believe him, but something about his shift in demeanor has you wanting to be convinced that he’s telling the truth.

“So if you’re understanding where I’m coming from, I think that you should know what I’m going to ask you to do.”

Your head cocks to the side in genuine confusion.

“No, in fact I don’t know. Please tell me.”

Rick rolls his eyes, taking a step closer so that he can speak to you more hushed.

“C’mon, don’t make me do this. Be the better person and just go.”

“Rick, I honest to god don’t have a clue what the fuck you’re talking about. Speak to me in something other than vague threats please.”

He scoffs, leaning down to be at your level. 

“If I give you a check to leave here and never come back, will that satiate your needs?”

You blink hard, trying your best to comprehend whatever bullshit Rick is going on about.

“Rick,” you say with a sharp exhale, “I don’t know why you think I would ever want any of your money or why you think you could pay me enough to stay away from Eddie. But, I’m going to say this only once. I am not interested.”

Rick straightens up, head rolling back in frustration.

“I can’t believe you. Do you, like, get off on taking things from people who are suffering or something?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not taking anything from anyone!”

“Oh, so you’re meaning to tell me that you’ve just been taking care of Eddie for free this whole time? That Wayne hasn’t been working to keep you around? And now that Eddie doesn’t need you, you’ve come here to try and convince him that he’s still sick so that you can keep getting a check.”

You feel like you’re going insane listening to Rick spout off the made up bullshit that he was spewing at you.

“No! Rick, have you ever even talked to Eddie?! I’ve not taken a single dime from the Munson’s in the last five months that I’ve known them! I was taking care of Eddie through a volunteer program through my school! And when that ended, I agreed to keep taking care of Eddie until he really didn’t need me anymore!”

Rick shakes his head, reeling as he pieces through everything you’ve just told him. It’s quiet for a moment between you two.

“So you’ve really not taken any money from Wayne?”

“No, I have not. Unless you count the times he’s made me food, or bought us all take out. But I don’t ask him to, he always insists.”

His head drops, foot kicking from underneath him.

“Look, I think that we’ve both been…under the wrong impression about each other. I don’t want anything to happen to the Munson’s and I think you don’t want anything to happen to them either.”

“So…we’re on the same page then?” You nod, and Rick laughs. “Well, I’ll be the first to say sorry then. I really thought you were trying to get the little money that they have.”

“And I thought you were trying to get Eddie back into dealing. I’m sorry for thinking that of you.”

“I guess…we’re cool then?”

“I guess so.”

“Cool, well, listen, I know you probably came here to see Eddie. But, I don’t think he would want you to be here right now.”

You frown, unhappy to hear that Rick is still trying to get rid of you.

“I’m sure that he doesn’t, but I really need to talk to him. I just want to clear the air with him and then if he wants nothing to do with me after that…”

“Mmmm, I don’t know what air needs clearing, but Eddie’s being going through some stuff of his own right now. I don’t think its about not wanting to see you…more like he doesn’t want to get you into what he’s got going on.”

You were growing more frustrated with how vague Rick was being. So, instead of wasting more time, you decide to rush past him, heading straight for the front door. But, he didn’t try to stop you. Instead he stood in place, taking a drag of his cigarette as he watches you walk through the front door.

Once inside, you’re greeted by the low hum of music playing from the radio in Eddie’s room, as well as the low murmur of conversation between Eddie and what sounded like Dustin.

Walking down the hall, you stand by the door and peer into the room. Eddie is sitting on the edge of his bed and Dustin is sitting in his chair. They look like they’re looking over a map of some sort and you wonder if it’s one they made for their D and D campaign. 

Your eyes scan over Eddie as he talks. Ever so animated as he points things out, while Dustin, just as animated, retorts something back. He looked a little rougher since the last time you saw him. His hair needed some TLC and the dark circles under his eyes made you wonder if he was getting enough sleep. It pained you to think he was having night terrors without you around to comfort him.

After a moment you decide to knock on the door, causing both boys heads to whip around to face you. Dustin smiles upon seeing you, a kneejerk reaction that he has anytime he’s not seen you for a while. Eddie’s reaction isn’t as sweet, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he realizes that it’s you in his doorway.

“What are you doing here?” He asks coldly. He didn’t seem at all happy to see you and it hurt.

“I’m here to see you, Eddie.” You take a step inside his room, but Eddie reaches a hand out to stop you.

“You need to leave. Now.” He says in a tone that he’s never spoken with you before. You feel tears starting to well up in your eyes, but you do your best to hold them back.

“No,” you say firmly, “Eddie, we need to talk.”

“I know,” he says with a sigh, hand running through his tangled hair. “I know, but…I promise you that we’ll talk, it just can’t be today.”

“Why not?” You feel that you’re borderline petulant sounding, but you don’t know if you can wait any longer now that he’s here in front of you.

“Tonight…just isn’t a good night.”

The sound of the phone ringing catches you off guard. Dustin jumps up from Eddie’s chair and bolts past you to the kitchen. His weird behavior and Eddie’s resistance have you feeling on edge.

“Is everything okay?” You ask concerned.

“Honestly, not really,” Eddie says exasperated. “That’s why I need you to go. I really can’t risk you being here with what’s going on.”

“Eddie, it sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into something dangerous. Does Rick have something to do with--”

“No, it’s nothing to do with Rick. Well, he’s involved now, but he didn’t have to be. But, you’re right, it is dangerous. That’s why you need to go home. I promise you that if everything goes how it’s supposed to, I will call you tomorrow and we can talk about whatever it is that you want to talk about.”

“Whatever it is that I want to talk about? Eddie, what I want to talk about has been eating me alive for the last month. I’ve been worried sick about you, you know.”

“And I’m so sorry, but I really need one more night to get what is going on taken care of and then I’ll--”

“EDDIE! SHE’S UP! THEY SAID SHE’S UP!”

Eddie moves himself into his chair so quickly that you almost miss it. He starts to roll toward you and you side step out of the way to let him pass. Dustin is standing in the living room and Rick was standing at the entry way chewing on his thumb nail.

“I gotta get over there, like, now,” Dustin says in frustration.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says, pointing at Dustin.

“I’ll take you,” Rick says, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Rick, no--”

“Eddie, they need me! Just wait here and keep playing your music! I’ll be fine!”

“Dustin, you know what almost happened to me! There’s no way I’m letting you go and get yourself killed!”

“I’m not going to be killed! We know what we need to do to stop him, and they’re going to need me there to make sure that everything goes smoothly. They’re fighting a boss without any support!

“Then I’m going, too!”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Rick says, waving his hands. “I can’t fit your wheelchair in my trunk anyway. 

“Fucking damn it,” Eddie curses, hands banging against the armrests of his wheelchair. 

“She’s already here, you might as well tell her what’s been going on now,” Dustin says motioning towards you.

“That would really be appreciated!” You say with exhaustion, more confused now than ever.

“Alright, kid, get your shit and let’s go,” Rick says opening the front door. Dustin rushes into the kitchen and grabs a duffel bag with a baseball bat handle sticking out of the zipper.

Just as Dustin is about to run out the door, he stops. Turning to face you, he pauses for a moment.

“Whatever you do, don’t answer the door.”

And with that, he leaves. Only you and Eddie remain.

It’s quiet after you hear Rick take off in his car besides the sound of music still coming from Eddie’s room. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Eddie finally takes a deep breath, letting it out before finally speaking.

“Do you still have cassettes in your car?”

The question throws you for a moment, but you nod in response.

“Yeah, I have a few. Why?”

“Go get your favorite one and bring it back in here.”

You didn’t understand why he would ask you to do this, but his serious tone made you take the few steps towards the door. The frigid air hits you once again as you run out to your car. Rummaging through the cassettes you have, you pull out Rumors and run back into the house. 

“What is all of this about, Eddie?” You ask. You walk up to him and the takes the cassette from your hand, smirking when he sees what it is.

“You and Wayne and your tastes in music.” 

It made you happy to see him smile. It’s felt like eons since you’ve last seen it. 

Eddie wordlessly rolls down the hall and you follow behind him. You watch as he pops out the cassette and places it in the case. It’s the one you got him for Christmas. He then replaces it in the player with your Rumors cassette and presses play. Once Second Hand News begins to play, he finally looks at you directly. Your name leaves his lips with a slight shakiness.

“There’s something going on that I really didn’t want you to be involved with. Something that…frankly, I don’t know if you’re even going to believe me when I tell you.”

“Try me,” you say, sitting down on his bed, giving him your full attention.

“Okay, so,” he starts, his hands already fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “You know how I’ve been telling you bits and pieces about what happened to me last year?” You nod. “Well, I’ve sort of been…well, not really lying. But maybe only telling you half truths.”

Eddie then proceeds to tell you what actually happened to him last year. He tells you about an alternate dimension that exists under ours, that is an almost identical copy of what our world looks like. 

“Well, I’ve really only seen Hawkins, so I can’t say it’s the same everywhere. But, it’s a carbon copy of this town frozen in time.”

“Frozen in time?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s stuck on the day that Will went missing a few years ago.”

“Will went missing?”

“Back in ‘83. It was this big thing where he went missing, then they found his body, but it wasn’t actually his body. Then he came back and people started calling him Zombie Boy.”

“Okay,” is all you can say as you try and wrap your head around that logic.

“When Will was missing, he was actually in the Upside Down. They were able to get him back, thanks to El.”

“El? Like Jane?” You’d heard the guys call her El before. Eddie nods.

“She has these, like, super powers. Kinda like The Force in Star Wars.”

“So she can lift people with her mind?”

“People, objects, and I guess she has a mind power where she can track people down. I think she used it to help them find Will.”

“How is that even possible?” You feel like Eddie’s barely scratched the surface and you already can barely grasp what he’s told you.

“The government and some experiments that happened a few years ago. They had a lab here in town that was destroyed in the earthquake. Which wasn’t a normal quake, by the way. It was caused by Vecna.”

“Who-na?”

Eddie continues telling you about the events leading up to what happened to him. He fills you in on a monster called the Mind Flayer, about how El lost her powers, then got them back. About how Will is somehow connected to this Upside Down place because of his time there, and how he can sense the presence of it.

“Then…” Eddie stops talking for a moment, looking a bit distraught as he collects his thoughts. “Then…um, one night, last year, there was this girl I went to school with. Her name was Chrissy.”

“Was?” You question. Eddie nods solemnly.

“She, um, asked me to sell her some drugs. I didn’t have on me what she wanted, so I brought her…brought her back to the trailer. It was just me and her, Wayne had already gone to work. I was looking for the drugs she wanted aaaand, uuuh, while I was gone…”

You can see Eddie becoming more uncomfortable as he talks. It breaks your heart to see him like this.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Eddie,” you tell him, hoping that maybe if he skips whatever happened that it would make him less uneasy.

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head, “I-I haven’t really, um, really gotten to talk about it since it happened. I feel like if I do then…” Eddie takes a moment to compost himself, eyes full of tears when he tilts his head up.

“She, um, she was acting weird. Just, standing there, not responding to me. Then, boom.” Eddie lifts his hand up, mimicking it hitting against something above it. “She’s suddenly on the ceiling. As if something was pulling her up by strings. Then her arms and legs…they snapped in ways that aren’t natural. The sounds,” Eddie puts his hands over his ears and leans forwards, eyes wide on the floor. “Then her eyes just popped into her skull. And her jaw…”

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you say rubbing his back as he starts to sob. You pull him closer to you until his head is resting in your lap. You can feel his tears soaking your thighs, but you only continue to rub soothing circles into his back. 

“You don’t have to tell me anymore, Eddie. I don’t think you’re ready to relive this.”

His head shoots up from your lap, his face wet with tears, eyes rimmed red. He sniffles as he takes his shirt and wipes his face with it.

“It’s fine, I got this,” he says with a rasp. “That was the worst of it. Um, after that, I just totally freaked out and ran. I wasn’t even thinking straight until I pulled up to Rick’s place. That’s when I realized what happened and…what was going to happen to me. I already didn’t have a good reputation in this town, and I knew if I called the cops after I left…shit even if I hadn’t left, they would have arrested me on the spot.”

Eddie tells you about what happened over the few days he was at Rick’s. About how Dustin, Max, Robin, and Steve found him there and they all explained to him what he told you. How if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes he wouldn’t have believed them.

He then tells you about the manhunt for him. How a group of boys, one of them being Chrissy’s boyfriend, found him and one of those boys ended up being killed the same way Chrissy had. That made three people total that had been killed by Vecna at that point, and apparently he only needed to kill four.

“Who was his fourth victim?” You ask. Eddie blinks and looks up at you.

“Max was supposed to be.”

Eddie tells you everything. He tells you about Max’s visions and her almost being killed in front of Lucas. How El managed to keep her from dying and that’s how she ended up in the coma she’s in now.

It makes you think about how you’d been taking care of her. Did her mom know this is what happened to her? Or was she just as in the dark about it as you and everyone else was. 

You understood why Lucas felt that he couldn’t leave her side. You would probably do the same if you were in his shoes.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. That must be an awful thing to live with.” You were referring to survivors guilt. You knew Eddie had to have been feeling it this whole time, but you didn’t know the context that made it’s severity make sense.

“I’m trying to deal with it. Honestly…you’ve made me feel a lot better. When Dustin or the guys try to cheer me up, it feels like they’re pitying me. But you…”

You take one of his hands in yours and smile. He looks at you bashfully before adverting his gaze once again. As you hold his hand, you feel the scars that adorn them.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, “What happened to you?”

Eddie remains still, almost tense. There was a long pause before he finally spoke again.

“You know how it’s hard for me to listen to that one Metallica song?”

“The puppet one?”

He nods.

“Yeah, you said it had bad memories.”

“That night, the same night that that happened to Max, we were in the Upside Down. It was Dustin and I, left in charge of creating a distraction so that Steve and Nancy and Robin could get to the big boss. So, I took my guitar from down there and played that song. 

“I’d been practicing it every day since I got the album, so I knew that I needed to play it and make it count. I felt so bad ass playing it, too. And, the best part is that it worked. We were able to get all those fucking bats to come to us.”

Eddie was looking past you, recalling that night in his head.

“They swarmed us. Dustin and I were able to get back into the trailer where we thought we were safe. But, those fucks were still able to get in. We took them down, and Dustin wanted to leave…But I was too stubborn.

“Instead of doing the right thing and going with Dustin, I tried to play the hero and wanted to make more of a distraction for the others. So I…ran out there and I tried to fight off hundreds of these bats by myself.”

You gasp, your hand coming to your mouth as you connect the dots.

“Needless to say they made a snack out of me,” Eddie says gesturing to himself. “I was sure I was a gonner, too. I blacked out and everything. Woke up a few days later in a busy hospital where I didn’t receive the best care in the world. But, I was also handcuffed to the bed considering I was still the number one suspect in the murders.”

“Wait, so even though you came in barely alive they still thought you were a murderer?”

“Yep. And, get this, Jason, Chrissy’s boyfriend, he died in the earthquake. His aunt works at the hospital as a nurse. She obviously doesn’t like me, and I don’t blame her. She tried to kill me.”

“What?! How?”

“Apparently she was going to give me like a lethal amount of some kind of narcotic in my IV. But Wayne caught her at the last minute when he came to visit me.”

“And that’s why you were so weary of me.”

Eddie nods, giving you a coy smile. “Sorry about that…”

“Eddie you don’t need to be sorry about any of that. If I had known, I would have done things totally differently--”

“But I’m glad you didn’t. Instead of treating me like a charity case, you treated me like human being despite my shitty attitude. Who knows if we would have gotten to this point if you had known.”

This point. That could mean a myriad of things, but you try not to think about why you came here and instead focus back to the present. 

“Wow. That is…a lot.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “I know that most of it sounds like some kind of fantasy, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me.”

“Why would you lie to me?”

Eddie looks at you with surprise.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Eddie, obviously you’re quite upset about all of this. I don’t think you’re that good of an actor to fake it.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he says with a sigh of relief. “I thought you would have told me to shut up before I could get everything out.”

“You really think that way about me?”

“No, god no,” he says waving his hands, taking yours back in his grip once he’s done, “I just wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“So, I’m guessing that the radio silence from you the last few weeks is because something is happening again?”

“Yes. Do you remember when we were at Grant’s place on New Years?”

Your cheeks go hot and you nod.

“Well, when Hopper called, he told me that something happened to Max that night. Apparently she levitated off of the bed and told Lucas that Vecna would be coming soon.”

You reel back, taken aback at the visual you had in your head of that happening. “No one at the hospital said anything about that.”

“That's because only Lucas and Max’s mom saw it happen. Nearly gave the poor woman a heart attack.”

“I bet it did,” you say thinking about Max’s poor, tired mom.

“Ever since we’ve all been on high alert in case something else happens. But nothing with Max has happened.”

“Has anything happened to you?”

There’s a quiet moment again. Eddie’s thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand as he takes his time to respond.

“I’ve been…having those dreams. But they’ve been more vivid than before. He…he talks to me.”

“Who talks to you?”

“Vecna.”

“The bad guy from the Upside Down has been talking to you?”

Eddie nods. “He told me that I was lucky to get out alive, that he was going to make sure that didn’t happen again.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. Eddie was in real, genuine danger and there’s a possibility that you might not have ever seen him again if you hadn’t come out tonight. How could you even live with yourself if that had been the case?

“Well,” you say after a moment, “That’s not going to happen. Not while I’m around.”

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. “I just told you I have a target on my back and your first thought isn’t to run?”

“Hell no! I’m not leaving your side ever again at this point.”

Eddie brings a hand to his face, head tilting back. He plays it off as frustration but he’s trying to hide how red his cheeks are from your words. But when he says your name in a whiny tone to punctuate his actual frustration, you suspect he’s going to protest you staying.

“Please don’t make me leave,” you say before he can get another word out. He peeks at you through his fingers, a sad puppy like look on your face as you plead with him. “If I have to be honest with you to get you to let me stay I will be.”

“What do you mean by that?” He says, running his hand down his face so he can look at you properly.

You take a deep breath in and release it.

“Eddie, what I’ve been wanting to talk about…I just, I can’t keep my mind off of you. And, not just in the way I’ve been worried about you…” You bite your lip. “Ever since New Years…when we..you know.”

“When we…”

“Kissed.” 

Eddie really blushes now, and you become acutely aware of how your hand is still holding his.

“Ye-yeah, I’ve been…wanting to talk with you about that, too.”

“I want to apologize.”

Sitting up straight, he looks at you like you have two heads. “What do you need to apologize for?”

“That kiss, it was inappropriate. At first it felt like it was just an accident, but the more I’ve been able to think about it the last few weeks…The more I realized that I didn’t want it to be one. And that made me think that you must have felt that way, too. Which was why I thought you stopped having me come over.”

“No, nope, not at all,” Eddie says, waving his hand dismissively. “Honestly, I’ve barely been able to think about that. Not because I don’t want to, but, well, you know, with everything going on.”

“Well, that makes me feel better, kinda. Obviously I’d rather you be mad at me than in danger from a supernatural being, but I’m glad you’re not upset with me at all.”

“I don’t think I could ever be mad at you.” The gooey tone he says those words make you feel like melting into a little puddle on the floor. “I also wouldn’t take back what happened. Because I don’t regret it. Unless you didn’t want it to happen. Then I’ll do my best to forget.”

“You really don’t regret it?”

Eddie shakes his head. “If nothing else, I think that if I died right now that I’d be happy to have had at least that with you.”

You feel your heart beating in your chest. Eddie and you look at each other, the tension thick as both of your true feelings start to surface for the first time like this. You swallow thickly, and Eddie’s eyes shift down. They land on your lips, then back to your eyes. 

The string snaps, and you both lean into each other, lips colliding together is a passionate kiss. His hands hold your face in place, yours go straight for his hair, letting your fingers get caught up in his tangled mane. Your lips move in sync as you take each others breath away. 

The fireworks from New Years make an appearance in your minds eye once more. But this time, they’re raging more than ever, amplified by the warmth that floods your body as you have this moment with Eddie. All the worries you had fly out the window as he hold you, kissing you with just as much feverence as you have for him.

The moment you pull away from each other feels like being ripped away from a fire in the dead of winter. But Eddie’s face remains close to yours looking at you wildly, a huge grin on display.

“Wow,” he says with a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes still closed as you feel a heat starting to burn within you. They remain lidded even with you open them, taking in Eddie’s features up close as he looks at you with a childish wonder.

You can’t help but lean into him again. Letting your lips barely touch as you peck him once, twice. The third time lingers, and you feel the heat of his breath blowing from his nose against your cheeks. You open him up with your mouth, letting yourself into his as your tongue slips inside. There’s some hesitance on his part, but he does his best to match your pace, tongues doing a sloppy dance between you. 

As the kiss intensifies, you place your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back gently until you’re barely on the bed anymore. You close it with another peck or two, his eyes closed as he chases you. You slide down until your knees hit the push of his carpet and that’s when Eddie opens his eyes. He watches your every move as you place a delicate hand on either knee, pushing his thighs apart until you’re properly wedged between them.

“Wh-what are you…?” Eddie trails of, still wanting to make sure you’re doing what he thinks you’re doing. Your hands move slowly as they run up his thighs until they reach his hips, then you move them back down at the same pace.

“What do you want me to do, Eddie?” You ask, voice smooth as silk as you look up at him. 

“Holy fuck,” Eddie huffs, voice shaky. You lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him, and Eddie swears you have a sparkle in your eyes.

“I can do whatever you want me to, you know,” you say with a smile. “If there’s a possibility you might die, might as well make it a night to remember.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, and it makes you a little nervous. But he couldn’t help it. He was going through every scenario that he’d ever jerked off to with you in it. He was getting so hard that he didn’t know how he was going to be able to keep his cool.

But his silence worried you. Did you come off too strong? 

“Eddie? Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie suddenly snaps back into it, shaking his head wildly. 

“No, please don’t!” He absentmindedly grabs your hand and places it on his hard cock. You gasp, feeling him through his sleep pants. 

“This is what you do to me, you know. And not just now. There’s been so many times where I’ve imagined this happening. But, I gotta say, nothing I’ve imagined has come close to the real thing.”

You eat up his words and they go straight to your core.

“You’ve thought about me?” You ask genuinely.

“I can’t think of anything else but you,” he says lowly. Too bashfully for the mood you’re trying to set. You want him to know he can be open with you, that he doesn’t have to think he isn’t worthy of you.

You adjust your hand so that you’re holding onto his cock and start rubbing him through his pants. Eddie makes little noises in response to your touch that tell you he’s liking it. 

“Can I--” You start, but Eddie cuts you off.

“You can do whatever you want,” He says breathily.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t like though,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes.

“As long as it’s you I’ll like it.”

With that, you let your fingers curl around the hem of his sweats and tug. Eddie lifts himself up a bit so give some slack and you take advantage of it. You pull his sweats down enough that his cock springs free, smacking against his stomach.

You’ve seen his cock briefly before, but to see it now in all it’s glory was a lot. It was as big as you expected it to be, and thick, too. You reached out your hand, wrapping it around him and begin stroking him. His cock jumps in your touch.

Eddies hands are gripping his wheelchair. He can’t believe this is happening to him. He’s never had anyone touch him like this before and the fact that you’re the first to do this was driving him crazy. Every move felt better than he could have even imagined. 

He watched in awe as you adjusted yourself, your lips hovering over him as you fucking spit on his cock and rub it in. He feels like he could bust right there, but he does his best to keep calm. The last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by cumming too fast.

But you’re testing his resilience when you take him into your mouth.

“Oh, holy fuck,” he moans as you get as much of him in as you can. With your hand on the base you start bobbing up and down on him, doing your best to open up for him as you take him to the back of your throat over and over. 

Eddie’s hands fly to your head. You hesitate for a moment, but when you see up to see the way he’s looking at you, you keep going. Pulling yourself from him, you take your tongue and lick him from base to top, swirling it around his head before going back in for the kill. You open up your throat and take him until your can feel your nose rubbing against hair.

“Haaaaa, oh my god,” he chokes out, his grip on your head getting tighter out of reflex. You hold it for as long as you can, trying your best to hold your breath until you just can’t anymore. You pull off of him again, looking up at him to get his reaction. 

“Was that good?” You ask as you stroke him.

“Is the sky blue?” He can’t even believe you’re asking. You smile and lean down to wrap your lips around his tip. You work around it with your tongue as you keep pumping. Eddie grabs the arms of his chair again and his hips buck, putting him further into your mouth. You cough a bit, unprepared for that much of him all at once.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, his hands framing your face. “Are you okay?”

You smile and nod, “Yeah, it’s okay. You’re just so big, Eddie. I can’t take you like that if I’m not ready.”

Eddie’s face is like a tomato from your words. You calling saying he’s big does a little something to his ego that he’s going to keep in his mind for the rest of his life. He leans down and kisses you, taking the lead with his new found confidence. You can feel him guiding you up from the floor with his hands, and you stand until you’re the one leaning down to him.

Eddie suddenly pulls away, locking the brakes of his chair. He places a hand on either arm and pushes himself up so that he’s towering over you, your bodies brushing against each other as he teeters on his leg. Out of instinct you grab him by his waist to hold him up. 

But Eddie has other plans. He maneuvers his body, shifting his weight so that he’s pushing against you. This causes you to fall back until you land on the bed, bringing Eddie down with you. Before he can crush you under him, Eddie braces his hands on either side of you, propping himself up so that he’s hovering over you, his knee on the bed between your legs.

Now you’re the one blushing, taken aback by such a smooth move by him. He’s so close to you, his hair curtaining around you so that all you can focus on is his face. Which is looking at you like he also can’t believe that he just pulled that off. 

“Hi,” you say when he doesn’t say anything.

“Hi, sweetheart” he says with a classic Eddie chuckle.

You reach up to kiss him again and he melts into it, allowing some of his body to relax into you. It doesn’t take long for things to heat up again, but Eddie doesn’t seem like he’s able to make another move while holding himself up. So you take the opportunity to reach between you and grab him again.

Eddie breaks away and curses, looking at you with a lust filled gaze. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, taking you by surprise.

“Of course,” you say, tickled at the prospect. 

Eddie shifts onto his side, and the two of you adjust until you’re laying next to each other. He looks at you up and down and raises his hand. But he freezes before he does anything.

“Wh-where should I touch?” He asks you. You think he’s joking at first but you realize very quickly that he’s not.

“Eddie…have you ever done this before?”

His hand drops, eyes looking away from you in embarrassment. 

“Oh, Eddie,” you coo, brushing his hair out of his face. “It’s okay if you haven’t. I just didn’t know.” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye and smiles. It’s still embarrassing, but he should have known you wouldn’t judge him. “Do you want me to show you?”

Eddie’s ears perk up.

“Please?”

You take his hand and guide him to the bottom of your shirt. Gently, you move his hand until it’s under the fabric. The tips of his fingers skim your skin as you raise his hand higher, higher, until it’s touching the cup of your bra. You leave it there and move your shirt up the rest of the way so that your chest is on display.

His eyes are bugging out of his head. Eddie’s seen boobs before. He’d say he’s a pretty big fan of them. But he’s never seen them this up close and personal before. He snaps back to reality when he hears you giggling.

As Eddie ogles your chest, you arch your back and reach around to unclasp your bra. If he’s this amazed covered up, you can only imagine how he’s going to react once he sees the whole picture. Once it’s loose, you pick up Eddie’s hand and remove it, tossing it to the other side of the bed. 

“Woah,” he says in awe, eyes blinking rapidly. Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling at him.

Bringing his hand back down, you place it on your breast, giving him a small squeeze to let him know he can do as he wants. Eddie gets the hint and immediately begins playing with you in his hand. He needs at you, feeling you in palms and with his fingers. He lets yous nipple get caught between two of them and gives a gentle pinch that has you gasping.

“Did that feel good?” He questions, and you nod in response. He likes this answer and tries to do it more, experimenting a bit with pressures and feeling them more. Most of it felt good. Honestly you were more turned on by his fascination than anything. Most guys barely pay attention to your body during sex, but Eddie’s inexperience seemed to be benefiting you.

It’s when Eddie takes it to the next step that you start to feel genuinely turned on. 

He moves, letting himself get closer to you until his face is right at your breast. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes, pupils blown out so that they’re almost block, and takes your nipple into his mouth. You can feel the sensation all the way down to your toes as he sucks and licks you. Eddie’s shifts himself so that he can fondle your other breast while he continues working on you.

It becomes too much and not enough all at once and you desperately just want Eddie to touch you in other places. So you take his hand once again, gentle around his scars, and bring it down to the waistband of your jeans. Eddie looks at you, tit still in his mouth, waiting to see what you do next. So you unbutton your pants and wiggle them down as best as you can. Eddie’s head whips around to watch, suddenly very interested in what you’ve got going on.

When you’ve gotten them off, your panties on full display for him, Eddie feels like he’s won the lottery. The reality of everything suddenly sets in that this is actually happening and he’s pretty sure he’s never been so hard in his life. He lets you move his hand down, over the fabric until his hand is where your legs meet. They feel damp to the touch, and Eddie can barely compute that you’re wet. Because of him.

“Do you want me to show you?”

Eddie smacks his lips, still staring at where his hand is touching you. He’s watched porn before, so he thinks he can figure it out. His hand moves from yours and he runs two fingers down your clothed slit, getting a feel of you before he does anything else. 

He’s trying to keep himself aware of any movements you make as he continues to feel you. He knows there’s a sweet spot hiding somewhere, he just needs to find it. After a minute he gets frustrated decides to take the plunge. He pulls your panties to the side and repeats what he was doing before.

The sudden gasp you make when he brushes over a certain spot has him celebrating internally. He focuses on what he’s pretty sure is your clit, making small circles with the pads of his fingers. The reaction you give him has him elated, your smalls huffs and moans making him feel like the king of the world. And he did it all by himself!

You were shocked that Eddie was able to make you feel so good so quickly. It was hard to believe he’s never done it before, but you couldn’t think about that as he tended to you. Eddie was so zoned in to what he was doing, and you found it so endearing, but you wanted more. 

Bringing yourself forward, you took his face in your hand and turned it, planting a kiss on his lips. He only faltered for a moment, taken by surprise by you, but quickly returned to your needs. 

“Eddie,” you breathed against his lips, “feels so good. Need more.”

Oh shit, is this it?

Eddie thought quickly about how he was going to do this. He didn’t know if he would be able to hold himself up on his bad leg. But he would try for you if it’s what he needed to do. He pulled his hand from between your legs and shifted up until he was on one knee, only using his thigh to keep himself balanced. 

When his shirt was pulled from over his head, and you couldn’t help but stare. Eddie had started doing some exercises recently to rebuild his strength, push ups, lifting small weights, and it was starting to pay off. And the little trail of hair from his cock to his belly button had you drooling. 

Eddie caught you staring and smiled down at you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Maybe next time,” you tease back, and Eddie almost jumps with joy. You hadn’t even done the deed yet and you were already talking about a next time? Maybe Vecna had gotten him in his sleep and this is what his heaven is. He wouldn’t complain if it was.

Eddie does some moving, and you help by opening your legs up for him. He looks at your exposed pussy and just about passes out from the sight. No porn star could compare to the sight of you laying before him, in full view for him to take in.

“Take a picture,” you say, laughing at the trance he seems to be in.

“Sorry,” he blushes. He grabs the sides of your panties and pulls them down until they’re just another piece of clothing on his floor. 

He takes a note from a porno he’s watched and runs his fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness before bringing his hand to his cock and pumping it. The sight of it has you feeling hotter than before, a lump forming in your stomach from the little bit he’s touched you already.

Eddie looks like he’s about to take the dive when you stop him.

“Eddie, do you have any condoms?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, a wave of devastation washing over him.

“I did…but they got destroyed when the trailer did,” he said, as if he didn’t know those condoms wouldn’t have done any good even if he did have them.

“Oh, um, that’s okay,” you say. “Just make sure you pull out. Okay?”

Eddie salutes you, “Scouts honor.”

“Didn’t take you for a scout,” you say jokingly. Eddie simply shrugs and strokes himself a few more times.

Eddie does his best to situate himself, leaning over you with one hand and one leg, using his thigh for support. Before you know it he’s lining himself up at your entrance. The anticipation is palpable as the head of his cock just a thrust away from being inside of you.

Taking a breath, Eddie looks at you.

“You sure you want to do this?” 

You can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in for him to ask you that.

“Yes, Eddie, I promise.”

He chuckles, “Okay, well, here goes nothing. Let me know if I do something wrong.”

“Just don’t go in all at once,” you tell him. “Go slow, please.” Eddie aches at how sweet you sound pleading with him.

He takes another breath and goes for it. He pushes himself past the threshold until the tip was all the way in before pulling back out again. He does this a few times, inching in a little more with each thrust until he’s halfway in and already feeling like he’s going to cum.

The stretch is delicious. You didn’t mean for him to go this slow, but you don’t want to discourage him so you let him go at his own pace.

By the time Eddie is almost all the way in his fists are already gripping his bedsheets. It’s indescribable how amazing you feel around him, and it feels like a tidal wave of emotions is on the horizon. But Eddie is determined not to make things weird by crying right now, so instead he looks at you, trying to gauge how you’re feeling about all of this.

Wrong move.

Because the slack jawed, lidded eyed expression you were giving him only made things worse. And then you go and smile at him! Come on!

“You can go faster now,” you say to him after a few slow thrusts. Eddie nods and starts moving a little more, doing his best to get a good rhythm with only one leg. But you take your leg and position it around his thigh, giving him a little more stability which he greatly appreciates.

At his new pace each thrust felt heaven. The way he hits that spot so effortlessly due to his size has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The room is filled with moans, curses, and Eddie’s name here and there.

He leans in closer to you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s breathing heavy into your ear, little gasps and hisses coming from him as he continues to roll his hips into you.

After a few minutes of bliss, you start to feel a wobbling on either side of you. Eddie’s arms look like they’re about to give out at any second. You thought about it for a moment until an idea popped into your head.

“Eddie,” you huff, getting his attention. He stops, looking at you with a slightly scared expression.

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you trust me?”

He nods, and you take your legs and wrap them around him. With one swift movement, you roll your bodies until you’re sitting on top of him in the bed. The new angle is intense with him sitting so snug inside of you. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure surprise, eyes wide with shock.

“This okay for you?” You ask, and he nods once more. “Good.”

You lean forward, letting your hand run up his stomach to his chest. Then you start to move, going up and down slowly a few times before giving one thrust that had him cursing under his breath. After getting the reaction you want you start to bounce on him, giving him quite the show as you do. You bring his hands to your chest once more to let him feel you up as you milk him for all he’s worth.

“You feel so good, Eddie,” you say to him. Eddie looks at you like you hung the moon.

“Y-yeah?” He stutters.

“So good,” you reassure him.

“Oh god, don’t talk like that,” he says, covering his face with his hands.

“Why not?” you ask, switching from bouncing to rolling your hips as you lay chest to chest with him.

“Jesus christ. Because if you talk like that then I’m gonna come, and I don’t wanna come yet.”

“You can come, Eddie. I want you to,” you say in a sweet tone.

“But you haven’t yet,” he whines. It touches you that he’s worried about making you cum.

“It’s okay if I don’t. This is for you, not me,” you say, caressing his face. But he shakes his head.

“No, want to make you come, too. Don’t wanna be like those assholes who don’t make girls cum.”

“Awe, Eddie, that fact that you even care means you’re not like that. But…” You take his hand, bringing his thumb to your clit. “If you really want to make me come, do what you were doing before.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, getting started. The combination was delicious as you started to roll your hips again. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel like you were on the edge with Eddie’s help. The knot was forming in your stomach once again and you chased that high by grinding down on him, letting his cock hit you right in that sweet spot over and over.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so close,” you say, moving on instinct with what feels good. 

Eddie felt like he had front row seats to the best show of his life as he watched you start to come undone on top of him. That deep pit feeling that he’s been trying to ignore was becoming too much for him to stave off for much longer. He was doing his best to try and hold it in because he really wanted to watch you cum on his cock. But every movement you made chipped away at him.

“Shit, oh my god,” you say just before you hit your peak. One more good roll of your hips and the knot inside you snaps. The feeling is intense, and you vision goes blurry as you come hard.

Eddie is losing his mind watching you. The way your pussy is spasming around him is too much for him to handle and he’s suddenly cumming as well.

“Oh, fuck!” He shouts, holding onto your hips as he spills inside of you.

It takes a moment for the both of you to come down and realize what happened. You hop off of him quickly, almost falling off the bed with how shaky your legs were. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you say, jogging into the bathroom to take care of the mess Eddie made.

“I’m so sorry,” he calls to you from the bed. “I-I didn’t mean to!”

Eddie was panicking. He knew he fucked up and there was no way you were going to do this with him ever again now. You might never even speak to him again after what he did.

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say from the bathroom. “I’ll just clean up really quick and we should be okay. I think my period is due soon anyway.”

He wasn’t really sure what that meant, but the fact you weren’t yelling it him was enough to help him calm down at least a little bit. He sat up fully in the bed and looked down at himself. The lower half of his body where you were was soaking wet, evidence of what the two of you had just done. It hits him like a freight train that you had sex with him. And he made you come? He felt like he was on top of the world.

After cleaning yourself up, you sheepishly reentered Eddie’s bedroom. You had just had sex with him, but you were feeling a little bashful about being naked in front of him. But the way he was looking at you made you feel like you could be covered in mud and he’d still be happy to see you.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“..and she picked out the venue,” you say as you brush out Eddie’s hair. “I think she wants to do like a mint green and a light orange. Maybe some white or silver or something like that, too.”

“I’m assuming you’re going to be the maiden of honor or whatever it’s called?” Eddie asks, looking at you in the bathroom mirror.

“No, her sister is, but I’m going to be a bridesmaid. I hope she has us wear green dresses instead of orange.”

“I think you would look really pretty in orange.”

You blush, sneaking a peak at him in the mirror. He’s had a grin plastered on his face since you two got in the shower. Even now he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful painting in a museum.

“Thanks,” you say softly, finishing the last few knots in his hair. “There, good as new.”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, looking at himself in the mirror, “It fees way better already. I don’t know how I thought I was going to be able to manage this long without you.”

“I guess that means you can’t get rid of me, huh?” You say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Good thing I didn’t plan on it.”

Warmth flooded your whole body at his words. It felt so good to get your feelings off your chest with him. Of course Tonya was right that he liked you. When he told you that he’d been pining for you for a while, you felt like kicking yourself for never seeing the signs.

You bend down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. His smile grew even wider as you did, the apples of his cheek dusted with a hint of pink. He couldn’t believe that this was even happening to him. How did he manage to get the most perfect girl in the world to like him? Certainly wasn’t his looks, nor his personality. Maybe you were just crazy and taking a chance on him. Whatever your reason, he doesn’t plan on doing anything to mess it up.

“Do you think Dustin and the gang are okay?” You ask suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Shit, I almost forgot,” Eddie says, suddenly anxious again. “The phone didn’t ring while we were…you know.”

“Not that I heard. Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” he says, turning his chair to look at you, “But I was hoping that one of them would call once things are settled down.”

“Can I ask you something?” You say after a beat.

“Of course.”

“Why did Dustin say not to answer the door?”

“Vecna, he’s…doing this weird thing with them. Apparently Nancy slipped into a trance and went to answer the door to their house and it ended up being a trap. She had some scary visions I guess and now she’s petrified to open a door. Jonathan’s been staying with her so she’s not alone.”

“That’s Mike’s sister, right? Has Mike had any visions?”

“Not Mike, but I guess Lucas has been seeing things, too. So we’re just trying to be cautious.”

“What does Wayne think about all of this?”

Eddie chuckles, shifting in his chair. 

“He’s always been a believer in the supernatural, so it didn’t take much to convince him of whats been going on. It’s the only reason he hasn’t asked you to come out here instead of Rick. Which, he’s not been doing too bad taking care of me, so don’t be too hard on him.”

“I think Rick and I are cool now,” you say with a smile.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Eddie starts, “Because I actually needed to ask you something.”

“What’s up?” You ask curiously.

“So, I was going to ask you to go with me as my plus one, just in case I needed help But now…I guess I want to ask you if you wanted to go with me to Rick’s wedding. Not just as my plus one, but as my…”

“As your what?” You ask with a teasing lit.

“As my date,” he says, eyes cast down so he doesn’t have to watch you if you reject him.

“Awe, are you asking me on a date?” You ask.

“Maybeeee…”

“Eddie, of course I’ll go. I’d have gone no matter what, but I’ll especially go as your date.” You reach your hand out for him to take. He looks at it, then up at you before taking your hand in his. He brings is to his lips and places little kisses on your knuckles.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to say yes because of what we did.”

“Eddie, I told you I like you. I’m sure it must be had to think that considering how down on yourself you are, but I really, really do like you. Want to date you, if you want to.”

“So, if everything goes well tonight…maybe we can, like, go see a movie or something?”

“I would love to. We can go to the one close to my house. Oh, maybe we can even double date with Tonya and Charles. She’s been dying to meet you.”

“She has?” He asks, surprised to hear that anyone wants to meet him.

“Yes. She’s the one whose been trying to tell me that you like me for months now.”

The two of you laugh and carry on, eventually heading out to the living room. The two of you get comfortable on the couch after deciding on a movie to watch and popping it into the VHS player. Everything is going well, the two of you stealing little kisses here and there, until about 20 minutes into the movie.

The both of you jump when you hear it. It feels like your heart is beating a million beats per second. You almost think that you imagined it, until you looked over at Eddie, who seemed just as distressed as you.

And then it happens again. 

Another knock at the door.

thanks for reading!

[emmyrosee]

you asked for angst and I hate angst but imma give you some bc I love you.

It is widely accepted that the Miya twins dad is not in the picture. Mama Miya is a single mom and is worshipped by her twin boys. They always prioritize taking care of her bc "she's got no one else but us". Which is great, its one of the reason why you feel in love with your man. But it becomes a hindrance when he starts missing out on things important to you. Esp when their mom didn't even need them there at that moment.

Could work for either Osamu or Atsumu.

I hate my brain.

LIT RALLY HAD A PIECE SIMILAR TO THIS IN THE WORKS BUT I GOT TOO SCARED TO POST IT ABDBEJSBEEI SO THIS IS NOW MY OUTLET 😯🫶🏻

—-

The moon is high in the sky when Osamu finally comes home, your hands buried in the sink as you wash dishes that have been sitting there far too long.

You’d asked osamu to do it, but he hasn’t even been home to look at them. A phone call from his mother took him straight from work to her house almost two hours away, leaving you to your own thoughts and feelings.

You adored Ms. Miya. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was your feeling of neglect brewing in your chest, with each time he leaves you with no regard for your needs.

“Hey Angel,” he hums as he finally crosses over the threshold, toeing off his shoes and tossing his keys on the hook. He says nothing when you merely grunt back, but he does make his way over for a kiss.

You return his kiss, despite your own desires to not, you just wanted to be close to him again, feel his hands cradling your body and relight the love in your soul.

“How was your night?”

“Quiet,” you sigh. “Just… cleaning up from dinner.”

“Shit, you made dinner?” At that moment, his stomach growls, “I was so busy at Ma’s I didn’t get the chance to eat. Do we have leftovers?”

You nod sadly, “yeah. Help yourself.”

“…everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

He clears his throat and picks up a plate from the strainer, “are you sure…? these used to have a design on them.”

You scrub harder.

“Talk to me, baby. I don’t like us keeping secrets from each other.”

“We don’t have secrets. If you can’t use your cognitive thinking skills as to why the person you’re going to marry is mad at you, that’s not my problem.”

“Is this about today?” He asks, voice dropping in defeat.

“Usually is.”

“Baby, you know I-“

The plate snaps under the force of your scrubbing, but you don’t focus on that, though osamu’s brows shoot up.

“Your mother needs you, your mother comes first, your mother asked you, your mother this, your mother that, I KNOW, OSAMU!” You bark, wet fists balled angrily and teeth gritted sharply. “I know the damn drill!”

He takes a step back and raises his hands in surrender, but his brows are furrowed in worry, “hey… it’s okay-“

“It’s not okay!” You yell. Your hands come up to grip your chest, “what about when I need you? Hmm? Where’s my turn to be selfish and need you-“

“My mother is not selfish,” he growls. His brows furrow, “you damn know that.”

You roll your eyes, “no, she’s not. But I want to be. I want to be the big important thing in your life for once, I want to be the thing you run to; I want to be the one you drop everything for.”

“You are, but she needed me today, atsumu couldn’t make it-“

“Yeah, what was the big emergency today, huh? Problem with the internet? Phone bill? Fridge cleaning?”

He doesn’t say anything; merely scratches the back of his head, looking at you with tired eyes as if you’d done this dance far too many times. Which you had- but that’s not your fault.

“Tell you what,” you begin, using your wet hand to grab the engagement ring from the edge of the sink and grab his hand to put it in, “when you can give me more than 4 hours out of the day, you can propose to me again.”

He grips your hand sharply, and for a moment it snaps you back to reality for what you were saying, how venomous and toxic your words were, and your jaw slacks softly, “I… didn’t mean that-“

“We are not going to be this couple,” he snarls. “We are not going to weaponize our engagement when we get into fights. Understand?”

“It just came out-“

“Then keep it in. Do not question my love for you in such a meaningless fight. Do not give me the ring that I decided to give you back, sheerly because you’re mad at me. We’re not going to be a couple that threatens our love from each other. You know better than that.”

The room is silent, the only noise coming from the creaks of the house and osamu doesn’t let go of your hand. His eyes are firm but they shine with betrayal, and his Adams Apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

You sniffle under his intense gaze, “all I wanted was for you to come home,” you whimper. “I got a promotion at work. I cooked dinner, I bought a cake, I-I-I just wanted you to show up.” Your bottom lip wobbles as he simply nods at your words, encouraging you to speak up more if you need to. “I hate sharing you all the time. I want to be selfish and have you come home to me, and not have to wonder about when or if you’re going to come home because of how far away she lives.” He lets go of your hand to wipe a stream of tears that dribble from your eye.

“I just miss you, ‘samu…”

He takes a deep inhale in before pulling you in for a hug, cradling you close and letting you cry in his chest. “Thank you, for being honest,” he says softly, kissing your head. “It must be frustrating to have to share my attention, especially when you have something important to tell me.” He lets you cry it out for a few minutes, before squeezing you closer, “but you have to communicate with me. You have to tell me if you’re feeling neglected. I can’t be here if I don’t know, baby.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m sure you wanted to surprise me today, and I’m sorry that fell through.”

You nod in his chest, relishing in the smell of rice and cologne, mewling and squeezing him tighter.

“How about we take tomorrow off?” He hums, pulling back to cradle your cheek in his big hand. “We can celebrate your promotion, and be together, yeah?”

“W-What about the shop?” You whimper. “That’s more important-“

“No.” He pulls back and looks down firmly. “Don’t finish that sentence. The shop will be plenty fine for one day.” He smiles softly, “after all. Need to celebrate my baby’s big break.”

You give him a watery laugh before inching to be closer to him again, more than anything just glad to be in his vicinity after so long.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you whispered.

“Hmm… what was that?” He asks, cheekily.

Brat.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you repeat, this time with some giggles.

“One more time?”

“Osamu!”

He snickers and places a kiss on top of your head, “I’m so sorry I was busy with Ma all day. I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“What did she need?”

“Eh, she needed her oil changed and god knows atsumu’s not going to do that.”

You laugh against his chest and nod, “he’d never risk messing up his hair like that.”

“Never.”

[nanamiluvs]

oh your grace !

pairing : wriothesley x reader

rating : explicit

wc : 1k

tags : reader is afab but no pronouns used, use of “good girl”, wriothesley and reader are married, oh wriothesley loves to call himself the duke, sir kink, dirty talk, power play, begging, fucking in wriothesley’s office what a surprise, handcuffs, oh my god more dirty talk than i planned there to be, 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thinking about wriothesley who likes it when you address him as the authority he is.

wriothesley who likes the way the words “your grace” fall off your lips when you’re joking. that’s what people call him, he’s quite used to it - being the one that is respected. after all, if the duke wants something, he needs no justification. everyone knows that much.

such a man is your husband. he’s the duke, scariest person most have ever witnessed, yet he is just your sweet wriothesley when he rubs his slight stubble in the crook of your neck. he may be a big bad wolf, but he’s a little puppy in your hands.

that’s why you tend to forget just how intimidating of a man he is. i mean, how could you remember how people bow to him in respect when he’s the one kneeling before you?

wriothesley has no problem with this. he feels safe around you and trusts you enough to the extent he’s willing to be vulnerable, he wouldn’t prefer it any other way. that’s why he’s surprised to feel his cock stiffen when you cling onto his arm as he’s working, whining, “please, your grace∿ i’ll do anything.” 

you feel the shift in his mood, too. your husband is an easy man to read. his eyes snap at yours, a sign of success on your part, finally getting him to pay attention to you. “is that so?” 

wriothesley who leans back in his chair, giving you the access you need to crawl onto his lap. and crawl, you did. his large hands immediately found their place on your hips, holding you. you wanted to kiss that stupid smirk of hiss away.

“i can’t say no to you, can i? not when you’re so polite, so respectful with your grace. what a terrible duke that’d make me.”

wriothesley who makes you take him in your mouth as he continues his work since you’re so eager to please his grace. paying no mind to how your spit runs all over his cock nor the way you struggle and whine, mumbling something about how he’s too big to fit.

“shh. you don’t want to be a hindrance for the duke, do you? keep quiet and take it like a good girl.”

wriothesley who rushes to finish his work as soon as possible because he wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and slam his hips into yours, fucking you into oblivion. yet he wants to see you beg for him, eyes filled with tears as you need him inside. how shameful of you, he would say, ordering the duke around like that.

wriothesley who finally pets your head after he signs the last of the papers, your eyes lighting up as he looks down at you. “get up,” he says and you do so. he stands up after you, his frame taller and wider and towering over you as he traps you between his desk and himself. “now, how could he ever get his work done if little criminals like you kept bothering the duke?” his dick pressed against you from behind, one hand creeping up to grab your jaw while the other traveled downwards.

you blink as you hear the clinking of metal and feel the cold material around your wrists, accompanied by a click. “w-wriothesley?” you call out, unable to turn your face back to him with the way he holds you.

you can practically feel the shit-eating grin on his lips when he pushed you down on his desk, hands tied behind your back. “that’s not what you’re gonna be calling me tonight.”

“your grace,” you correct.

“smart girl.”

wriothesley who yanks your clothes enough just to have enough space to slide inside you, yet stays still when you expect him to do it. you can feel his heat throb against your ass, accompanied by his palms groping the flesh. “is this what you were trying to get?” he teased, “preventing the duke from doing his job, just to get his dick inside this pretty pussy?” you heard him chuckle when he probed your lips with his fingers, finding it already dripping and ready for him. “so wet, too. is this all for him?”

“yes.” you pant.

“i couldn’t catch that.”

“yes, your grace.”

wriothesley who makes you beg before his fingers find your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud and laughing as you clench around nothing. he can’t just give you what you want, can he? how could that be fair, treating a cute, pretty criminal like you with kindness? he’s insufferable, mocking your neediness, his hands roaming all over your body. he’s already done as much as to make you cum on his hands twice, and now people are going to call him unjust. b

wriothesley who finally slams inside you, the oversensitivity making you whine and moan as he set a harsh pace thrusting in and out. wriothesley was your sweet husband but oh god was he not a ruthless man.

wriothesley who keeps shaming you and praising you at the same time, telling you how good of a slut you are for your grace. his dick slides in easier with your mixed fluids inside your cunt, a creamy ring formed around his member.

wriothesley who slams inside you one last time before he stills, grunting as he shoots ropes of white cum inside your walls, the way you clench around his cock when you orgasm enough to drive him over the edge.

“but fortunately,” he whispers against your ear, bending down to press his chest against your back one hand skillfully undoing the locks of the handcuffs and dick still semi-hard. “you are the duke’s favorite.”