#non-binary reader

[hambiichu]

Captain's confession

Sumarry: Levi doesnt know how to confess to you so he asks his trusted people: Erwin and Hanjie.

-------

"You what?" Erwin looks at Levi then at Hanjie, the confused look evident in their faces. "Can you repeat that?" 

"How do I confess them?" Levi repeats through his gritted teeth, he felt emberassed to repeat it but he knows damn well it was the first time Erwin and Hanjie ever heard Levi asks that question.

Erwin puts his pen down, clasps his hands together on the desk, and asks, "Who's them?"

"Them."

Oh.

Everyone knows you are the captain's little assistance, you followed him around like a lost dog. You consistently deliver his tea at the same time on the same day, work with him on paperwork, and assist him with cleaning his office and quarters.

Levi starts to develop feelings for you throughout these periods.

Wait.

Or it already been there from the start?

The first time he saw you; love touched his heart at first sight and grew deeper and stronger until it consumed his thoughts every day.

The fact that a grown man in his mid-30s liked you made him feel embarrassed at first. It was the first time he had ever liked someone who made his stomach turn over and his heart ache even a little. As though God made you specifically for him, he didn't feel this strongly about anyone until you came around. He keeps it hidden inside of him with his typical stoic demeanour.

You are a bold adult, and it is not dishonourable to back down from any obstacles, no matter how small, that put his worries for your safety at bay. He watches you like a bounty hunter, and he hates it when you are irresponsible, let alone put yourself in danger.

He admires you, your skills, your face, the way you laugh with others, and how you get along. It's like he can't compete with that. He sometimes thinks hes not good for you; you are his captain, and you just a comrade.

Every time he thinks about it, it hurts his heart to realise that, despite your perfection, you are more ideal for someone else than for him. Hell, has he never indicated whether you genuinely like him?

He understands that you respect him as captain and that he does the same for you, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he would prefer to let you go if you have ideal someone than him. That way, it will be much simpler for him to move on.

Even it hurts so much.

"Why them?" Erwin asks, raising his bushy eyebrow, giving Levi a warm kind smile.

"Is shorty in love?" Hanjie teases, wiggling their eyebrows.

"Shut it, four-eyes! Who says I am in love? Is just a question!" Levi crosses his arms stubbornly, tapping his foot impatiently. "Why them? Well, is easy, them! Thats all."

"You're not giving us an exact reason why them," Erwin chuckles lightly, side-glancing at Hanjie, who's grinning plastered on their face. "Why them? In all people, Levi. They're just your comrade."

"Yeah! Why them? Care to give us a reason why?" Hanjie still wiggles their eyebrows. Levi wants to throw a chair at them if he wants if Erwin allows him.

"I am not explaining much why them!" Levi gritted his teeth again. "I just wanna know how do I confess to them? Explaining why them is a waste of time. I used my willpower to ask them if they're free from this evening and said yes, I am not losing chances."

Erwin and Hanjie exchange a knowing smile as they glance at each other. Erwin's eyes scan Levi's entire body, assessing his current state of stress and anticipation for the confession he will make to you this evening. He hums to himself, aware that his own closest friend is in love. It is an uncommon sight, to predict that this short, stoic man is in love and is seeking assistance in how to confess.

"We'll help," Erwin straightens himself. "First and foremost, you need to calm down, take a deep breath, and know whatever the upcoming they'll say is up to you to react."

"What if they say no?" Levi gripped his nails to his forearms; he hates the thought but is up to him to react. "What if they rejected me on the spot? How would that help me?"

"Go find someone new; it's easy as that," Hanjie chirms, placing their elbow at the armrest and their hand on their cheek. "Yknow, if you got rejected, then the only comfort way is to find someone new."

"Is not that easy, four eyes!" Levi grumbles as he furrowed his eyebrows. "I'd been weighing on my mind every day; thinking about them is like a fucking annoying fly that buzzes around at my ears. They're like a god at my eyes, and they're the purest human being that set on this planet."

He makes eye contact with the two, and he inhales deeply before exhaling through his mouth. His nail is sinking further into his forearms, and he's tapping his foot more impatiently now simply because he's so nervous. Only you are what he desires. He hates the thought and finds it much worse than he expected, and he has a hard time finding someone else if you reject him.

"I don't want someone new," Levi sighed calmly, "I want them."

That made Erwin and Hanjie look at each other again. Oh, he's really in love. Really, Erwin clears his throat as he inhales and looks at Levi with his calm, ocean blue eyes.

"If you confess, what would you say?" asks Erwin, which caused Hanjie to roar in laughter.

"Will you marry me?"

"Shorty, that's not how you say it!" Hanjie laughs harder, causing Levi to stand up and shake them violently to stop laughing, his face tinted with red and his eyes bulging out of his sockets.

Erwin attempts to contain his laughter, but Levi snaps his head at him. If Erwin isn't a commander, Levi might do the same to Hanjie. Even so, he returns to his chair, averting his gaze as he crosses his arms and taps his foot once more.

Hanjie adjusts their uniform, still grinning. "How about not that. If you're not up to tell your feelings, why not buy something for them at least?" Erwin suggested. "That way, they instantly know the gesture and that you can tell them you like them."

"How would I know what they want?" Levi huffs, "They're never told me the things they'd like."

"Flowers." Hanjie suggested, "If you can't tell what they like, then maybe start giving them gifts."

"Eugh. What if they are allergies to flowers?"

"Nonsense! There's an open flower shop down town; they give the best flowers. Trust me, they'll love what you bought!"

Levi thinks for a moment and nodded slowly, "I guess I'll buy it. Is worth the money to spent."

Erwin nodded in comprehension as Hanjie clapped their hands, and Levi got up from his chair and gave him the thumbs up. He modifies his carvant, restyles his hair, and pats his fictitious dust on his clothing. After closing his eyes and taking a long breath, he felt as though he was ready for anything.

"I am ready," He says checking the time. "I should be going."

Hanjie gave him a roar of support and Erwin do the same.

"And if anything happens, pull out method is your champion!" Hanjie exclaimed before Levi departed.

He gave them the finger.

-

Levi never asks you whether you're free, so you were rather anxious. Your dying crush on your captain asked you that question for the first time, and you replied in the affirmative. Why did you say Yes? Why did you readily acquiesce and now pay the price?!

Oh my, Sina walls. What's got into you?!

You have been pacing around for minutes after he ordered you to meet up in his office. You have attempted to divert your attention by looking at anything in his office to calm yourself, but this isn't working. This isn't even functioning!

What is he going to do? Murder you? Asks you to clean the quarters from top to bottom? Clean horses? Kick Jean and Eren to stop them from fighting again? Do more paperwork? Ripped Erwin's bushy eyebrows at one point Levi told you he hates those?

You clutched your hair in exasperation, as though you wanted them to tear it out. The moment you saw him for the first time, you were infatuated. He is the most skilled soldier in humanity, a captain, an ackerman, a clean freak, and attractive. What else is there to desire in a man?

Oh lala, you are so in love!

On several occasions, you begged Mikasa for assistance in confessing Captain Levi Ackerman. Even though she's bored of you chatting about Levi for so long, she still wants to choke you with her red scarf.

She indeed helped yes and was very supportive calmly, but that one conversation still lingered in your mind that may or may not you despise her:

"If he has a short dick like his height, you choose the wrong man."

You picked the right one, man, hell! You always do; you know that. To boost your confidence even further, he is the ideal man you have been looking for! You choose him the first you lay eyes on that gorgeous face, and you're not backing down.

At last, you took a exhaled deeply, and let everything out. You must maintain your composure. When Levi arrives at this office, you follow his instructions as always.

Click.

Looking up to see Levi enters the office, your jaw drops to the floor. Your eyes bulge in shock at the scene unfold. What the fuck?

Levi has chocolate with a teddy bear and the largest bouquet of flowers. He handed you the flowers and set the chocolate and teddy bear on the desk, facing you. Holding on to them as your arms nearly give out from the weight.

"Wh-What I am gonna do with these flowers, sir? P-put them in your vase?" You stammered your words to your shock Levi shakes his head.

"Not put them in the vase, is for you." He says, crossing his arms as your eyes wide in shock. For you? This all for you?!

"Sorry, what?" You blink at him. Levi scoffs as he looks away, a red hue across his cheeks and his eyebrows furrowered. "For me?"

"Yes, for you." Levi begins, "I have to fight a rich guy from the flower shop, saying he doesn't care if I am a captain or humanity's strongest; he needs those flowers for his girlfriend."

You are stunned at your spot. Your blood reached to your cheeks, and you tried to let out some words, but it got stuck in your throat. Is this.. something you'd been dreaming about? Levi confessing to you? Or this is something else.

"You don't have to fight—"

Levi cuts you off with his hand. "He's rich fucker, and he can get what he wants. To me, that's well spent money. Do you not like it? I also bought chocolate and teddy for you."

You nodded at him and swallowed as you looked at the flowers. They are lovely, fresh from the roots, and their scent is delightful. They are also well maintained. This was completely unexpected; in fact, it's more akin to a startling turn of events!

"Why give it to me?" You asks, placing the boquet on the floor. "I don't... I.."

"You deserves it," Levi says pocketing his hands as he looks at his boots. This is is now or never, "Is because I like you."

You were absolutely shocked! You felt the time was frozen in place upon hearing what he just said. You have to make sure this is true, not some sick joke.

"I'm sorry repeat that?"

Levi gave a tch sound, his brows twitch as his face redden deeply. Oh Lord, are you deaf? It felt like torture to say it again, "I like you, brat. Have you not heard it the first time I'd said it?"

Silence fell. Your lack of response made Levi feel nauseous. He was mentally cursing himself from the inside out while you stood there in a state of dumbfoundedness. He shouldn't have spoken or done these things because he felt worse right now. Fortunately, he has a window in his office, so he can jump out of it and leave if things go badly or simply leave his office without speaking to you.

No, that would be rude.

Finally after a while, Levi's face washed up in relief and glint of happiness from his silver eyes: "I like you too."

You felt lighter and as though a load had been lifted when you uttered that. You were so joyful that you thought you were in heaven. You like him, and he likes you too.

"Since when?" You asks.

"Since the day I have my eyes on you."

Oh, you two were on the same boat.

"Same here."

Levi smiled warmly at you, and you thought you had won the lottery because it was the first time he had ever smiled, much less for you and you alone.

You were the luckiest person alive, and thank the walls you have crushed on Levi; if not, then this poor man will go to shambles. Who doesn't want to have a crush on Levi?

As Levi took your hand in his, he entwined his fingers and pressed his lips to your knuckles, sealing the two of you together.

"Then we can get marry after?" Levi looks at you with his warm, soften eyes.

Thank to the wall again!

You wheeze, kissing his knuckles as well. "It's too soon, Levi. Once the titan dissapeared from this world, then we'll get married."

And Levi never felt more happier from that.

-----

You can find them on ao3

Happy readings!!

[ranchracoon]

To Care For

Omega Donna Beneviento x Alpha Non-binary Reader

Requested by: Anon

The candles flicker as a soft breeze blows through a hole in the siding of the empty church, the only living thing present is you, kneeling before the alter of Mother Miranda and the lords. You pray, every night you come here after everyone has gone and pray for her to hear your pleas. After countless nights you start to suspect that maybe the reverend mother cannot hear you at all, that is until the small breeze turns into a full gust which blows the candles out. Smoke fills the air and follows the direction of the gust, as does your head to see her standing there in all her glory. Her black robes shift and settle as her large black wings fold themselves in behind her, her golden mask shields her face and the large golden halo adorned to her back stares at you with a singular eye at the peak. 

"What is it you want child? Speak," she commands. 

"Mother Miranda" you stand on both feet, still staying hunched as to not be taller than her, "thank you for hearing my prayers. Please, I have one request, just one."

"My my, a female alpha" she steps toward you, her taloned fingers rest under your chin and force you up to stand at your full height, "no female as ever survived the alpha transition. Remarkable."

"That's just the thing, I don't want to be." you say quietly. 

"You don't? You know the procedure has a higher chance of killing you than the transition."

"No I mean, I want to be an alpha, I just, don't want to be a female." 

Mother Miranda looks up at you, her grayish eyes sizing you up before she releases your chin.

"I see. Well I can certainly do that, do you have family to care for you after the procedure?"

"No. My family has all but abandoned me since my transition."

"Then I will have to make arrangements. Come child."

*          *           * When you awaken you're groggy, the anesthesia slowly losing its hold on you as you blink away the sleep. Mother Miranda is there above you, instead of her normal robes and wings she appears to be wearing a robe made from feathers. Her golden beak the only color in the black sea. When you finally grasp onto reality you swallow and groan softly, carefully sitting up with her assistance.

"One of my children has agreed to take you, she'll nurse you until you are fully recovered in exchange that you'll be of service to her once that happens. I order about six weeks bed rest, no reaching as to not rip open your incisions, and the tubes can come out in two weeks. You'll also have to wear a binder to keep compression."

You hobble next to her before she finds a suitable wheelchair to prop you in, she begins wheeling you from the bed you were lying in when hundreds of crows swarm you in your chair. The anesthesia makes you unreactive but it sparks your heartrate from startling you, when the crows disappear you're on the porch of a house. There's a waterfall nearby which makes you cock your head slightly; one of her children...this isn't Dimitrescu or Moreau that much is obvious, and it smells too...neutral to be Heisenberg which leaves...

You swallow nervously as the doors open by themselves and you are wheeled into the manor. Everywhere you look feels as though there's a film over your eyes and no matter how much you blink it remains. Out of nowhere a small figure rounds the corner and waddles to approach you and Mother Miranda. It's a doll. You've heard about Beneviento, she has the power to cause vivid hallucinations and it's said her flowers are powerful suppressants. The doll approaches and tsks before rising up into the air and grunting softly. 

"You didn't say they were an alpha" the doll screeches making you flinch. 

"I explicitly said that Dimitrescu would not take them because of their status, I presumed you could draw the conclusion yourself. I'll be more specific in the future" Mother Miranda responds flatly. 

"This poses problems."

"It'll be fine" Mother Miranda says with a sigh. 

"Why can't they stay with you?" The doll asks.

"We've been over this and I will not get into it with you again, now, where can I put them?" Mother Miranda asks.

"Upstairs."

Mother Miranda offers you a hand and you take it, slowly making your way up the stairs to a small bedroom lined with dolls. The room has a singular bed in the corner, a dresser, a desk, and two small windows. Mother Miranda aids you to the bed and you sit upright on top of it with a grunt, sighing heavily as you close your eyes and fall asleep in that position. When you awaken again Mother Miranda is gone, there's a soft knock on the door before it opens and in walks a figure covered head to toe in mourning garb with the face covered. 

"Lady Beneviento thank you for-" you start, adjusting yourself on the bed. 

"Shush" she orders quietly. 

She carries a tray and sets it on your lap, an assortment of fruit, vegetables, a mysterious mush, and what appears to be a thin slice of mystery meat. 

"You must be hungry" she states. 

"Yes, thank you. I greatly appreciate you taking me."

Lady Beneviento says nothing and instead stands there watching you as you lean over the tray and begin eating. Despite it's appearance, everything tastes edible. She asks you questions like your chosen name, the preferred pronouns you use, if you have a mate which makes you chuckle. 

"I wouldn't be here if I had a mate."

You finish your food and Lady Beneviento takes the tray away, "I will bring you some books to keep you occupied. If you need anything just speak out, I will hear."

*          *          *

"You need a bath" the lady says matter-of-factly. 

"I know."

"The tubes are removed and Mother Miranda said so long as we don't submerge the incision sight you can be washed."

Lady Beneviento motions you to follow her, you do, easing off the bed carefully and following in stride down the hallway to a small bathroom. There's a tub inside, with a bucket of water next to it. Steam rises up from the tub and exits through the open door, Lady Beneviento walks over to a small window and opens it to let out the rest of the steam.

"Strip" she orders. 

"Everything?" You ask with a crack in your voice. 

"Do you expect me to wash you and your clothes?"

Your entire face turns red, you're about to undress in front of a lord! She helps you unbutton your shirt as to not over reach your arms, then you take the waist of your shorts and pull down. You glance over and see yourself in a mirror, turning to face it fully as you run your hands along your now flat chest and the scars. It's sensitive, but you smile as  you take in the look of your new body. You turn around, still standing there in your boxers before Lady Beneviento motions with her finger, pointing at your boxers and making a downward motion. Now your entire body feels on fire as you slowly lower your boxers and step out of your pool of clothes, using your hands to cover yourself. She motions to the tub and you slowly get in, having to temporarily reveal yourself in order to brace against the edges of the tub. Then you lower yourself down. The water only comes up to your mid stomach, it's warm and you want to sink your entire body into it but you know you can't do that. Lady Beneviento kneels on the side with a wash rag in her hand and mild smelling soap. 

"I'm going to touch you now, you'll need to do your....genitals if you can."

"O-okay" you mutter out. 

She's extremely gentle while also mildly abrasive with her scrubbing, two weeks of no showering and still having surgical goop on you has left a fine film of oil and gunk on you. True to her word she hands you the rag and you wash between your legs under the water, now thankful it's become soapy enough to hide...everything. She lifts your legs carefully and washes them, then comes time for your head. She has you tilt your head back and she uses the spare bucket to comb your hair until it's wet enough for the shampoo. She repeats the process, gently scratching your scalp with her nails then brushing through your hair until the shampoo is gone. She uses another sweeter smelling soap to wash your face and neck, letting it sit for a moment before rinsing it off gently. 

Your heart flutters every time she touches you, at first from embarrassment, but now from the intimacy of her touches. She's careful, gentle, bordering on loving as she caresses your neck, your hair, and even when she inspects the incisions on your chest she is gentle. You've never had anyone wait on you like this before, not since you were a babe and required the full attention of your parents. It made you realize how touch starved you are as you lean into her touch, silently begging for affection and attention which in that moment she gives. The air shifts, it's filled with a sweet smelling scent that relaxes you. Lady Beneviento is a beta, at least that's what her scent indicates, and she must be intentionally using her powers or her pheromones to produce a relaxing atmosphere. When the water runs cold that is when the moment is gone, she removes herself from you, leaving you cold and shivering literally and figuratively before she acquires a towel for you.

*         *         * 

The next four weeks pass dreadfully slow, with nothing to pass time other than reading it felt more like four months. The entire time Lady Beneviento cares for you; washing your clothes, keeping you bathed, fed, and occasionally sitting in the room with you. Once the tubes were taken out she made you walk every day with her by your side the entire time, and when it's not her, it's her doll Angie. You and her walk the border of her land, she shows you the garden now is a pit of despair, and the old gardener's cottage where you are free to stay if you wish. In the short time, you and the lady become close, close enough she allows you to use her name; Donna. Now fully recovered it is time for you to repay your debt. 

She starts you with light things as to not agitate your scars; sweeping, dusting, even a little cooking. Once you get a routine down she moves you outside, working in her yard by pulling weeds, tending to the yellow flowers that bloom everywhere. You even take on the project of rebuilding the gardener's home, and the garden itself. It's difficult work, but you owe Donna a great deal, and you also can't object that in the last few months you've grown rather fond of her. She's treated you better than your own parents, fed you, given you nice clothes, and even though she doesn't say much, you look forward to spending time with her. Even Angie has become somewhat of a friend to you, often teasing you relentlessly because of the way you 'look' at Donna

The first harvest of your garden proves worth all the effort; numerous vegetables have grown and you harvest what you need to take to Donna in her manor. You moved into the gardener's home, as to not disturb her more than necessary. However every day you visit her for tea. You tease  that really you're there to see Angie, but of course Donna knows otherwise. When you enter the manor there's a distinct shift of smell, it's smells addictive, musty, and dangerous. There's a smell of panic, danger, like a deterrent for anyone entering to leave immediately. 

"Donna? Angie?" You call out, receiving no answer.

Thinking Donna is in danger you drop the produce and immediately go to the elevator that leads downstairs. The moment the doors open you sprint to every room looking for her, the smell getting stronger the closer you get to her bedroom. You knock on the door in a panic.  

"Donna? Are you okay?" You ask worriedly. 

"Go away!" Screams Angie. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"I said go away!" Angie screams again. 

The smell burns your nose, it makes your head hurt as it keeps shifting from smelling like old books, to some chemical cleaner type smell, to the scent of impending danger. Something shifts inside you, a sudden urgency to get inside that room like your life depends on it. There's a chill up your spine which causes goosebumps to break out on your skin before you pound on the door again, a low growl emanating from your chest. 

"I need to know if you're hurt! Don't make me break this door down."

The door swings open with a loud thud with Angie on the other side, you move her out of the way to find Donna curled into a ball on her bed. She's wearing only a nightgown which is currently drenched in sweat, she's whimpering and shaking violently. You've seen this before, but she's a beta, she's not supposed to go into heat..unless she was hiding her true status from you. You're an alpha, of course she would hide her scent because she didn't know if she could trust your intentions or not. Many alphas take omegas without their consent, sometimes they even take betas when their ruts hit. You take a step forward but quickly you are cut off by Angie. 

"Do not touch her! Get out of here before you make her do something she'll regret!"

"Please I just want to help."

"No you want to fuck her! Treat her like every alpha does, stick your dick in then leave her with the consequences."

You won't deny that your alpha is currently screaming at you to claim her, pin her down and breed her until she's swollen with your brood. The other half of you in standing strong, this is the woman who cared for you when you were are your most vulnerable. You straighten up and look at Angie, your own scent now mixing with the already unbearable toxin in the air. Determination. 

"I am not going anywhere Angie. Donna needs me, and if I have to tie myself to the bed then I will. I promise, I will not do anything until she is past her heat. No marking, no mating, nothing until she is in a clear head space."

There's a long silence before Angie twitches and shivers, "top drawer of the nightstand" she says. 

You open the drawer to the nightstand and see an eye mask, makes sense since she's not wearing her veil. You put the eye mask on then slowly crawl onto the bed with her, she immediately lays on you, her intense body heat making you break out into a sweat as well. Her smells makes you groan internally, maybe you should tie yourself down. Your arousal is evident but you remain completely still, letting Donna simply touch you. She grinds herself on your lap and you grunt softly. 

"Donna-" her name rolling off your tongue makes her whimper softly, and you wrap your arms around her tightly, "I'm not going anywhere, but please, I don't want to take advantage of you while you're in this state."

"I trust you" she whimpers.

"If you did, you wouldn't make me wear the eye mask" you point out. 

There's another long silence before there's a shift, her body weight now on your chest and you whine lowly from her smell so close to you. Fingers wrap around the eye mask and slowly pull up to reveal her. You blink a few times, your heart thudding in your chest as she sits there. Her pale skin glistens from the sweat, her hair is ebony black and thrown into a messy bun atop her head, and her eyes. A singular eye, with one covered a lumpy mass with tendrils poking out, wiggling about and the other a brown so dark it looks black. 

"You're beautiful" you whisper. 

"Truly?" She asks. 

"You know as well as I do I cannot lie to save my life."

She locks her eye with yours, scanning for any indication of a lie but finds nothing. Her eye then drifts down to your lips before she gently places a kiss on them. You kiss her back gently, your arms tightening around her body before she breaks the kiss and nuzzles her face into your neck, breathing your scent in deeply. She occasionally grinds herself on you, begging for release from her pain but you hold fast, hiding your face in her neck as you growl lowly. Your teeth aching to sink into her, claim her, mark her as your own but you don't. You can't. Not while she is like this. Despite her best efforts, even trying to manipulate you, you hold steady and the most you do is shower her lips and face with heated kisses.

Her heat finally passes, the recognizable grumble of your stomach stirs Donna awake from her light slumber. She turns to face you, slowly sitting up on the edge of her bed with hugging herself. She runs her hands along her arms, then her collarbone, and her neck as if checking to see if you marked her. Her scent smells like old books, and fresh rain but underneath is the smell of worry before it's consumed fully by her dominate scent. You arch your neck, having become addicted to it as you breathe in her scent once more, she looks over at you, her eye looking you over.

"You could have easily taken advantage of me" she says quietly. 

You reach over to take her hand into your own, "you helped me when I was vulnerable. You could have turned me away, left me to my own devices, but you didn't. You cared for me, gave me my strength and my confidence. I would never, and I mean, never, hurt you Donna. I love you."

Donna looks at you in the eyes, her eye flipping between both of yours before she leans back into your chest, her head tucked under your neck, "I think I might love you too.." she whispers.

Master Post

[secretsandwritinggs]

Oh, I like it, Picasso

pairings - Cobra Kai characters x you/non-binary reader

kg’s notes - just wanted to make something that was cute, fun, and a little silly. so here are the characters of Cobra Kai drawing you! make sure to stay real still for them so they can capture you and your essence ;)

Demetri Alexopoulos - staying still is uncomfortable which he something he noted on before you arrived so he tried making your arrangement comfortable. most likely he will do it in private and take it very seriously, he will get nervous every time you move a little, since he could mess up at any time. he apologizes for any mistakes he had made, though he almost made a mirror copy of you in his drawing.

Miguel Diaz - would probably ask you which setting do you prefer: somewhere private or public? you didn’t mind which one, so you let him decide and he chose to paint you on a rooftop. he wanted to bring in the warmth of the sunrise to you as he drew you. little details are out of place but you love it anyway, and you hung it up in your room.

Robby Keene - the two of you talked about where you were going to do this beforehand, so thankfully that’s out of the way. you are his first human project which makes you both nervous, but he says he’ll try his absolute best to capture you. you both settled in an old building outside the Valley to do this, so no one can interfere with your time together. he makes jokes as he draws, cracking you up and he presents a wonderful drawing of you smiling (while being in what looks like cat shit)! he does offer to clean you up before dropping you back home.

Devon Lee - right out of the gate, she tells you that she is very nervous and doing this for a school project (Kenny would be the same project). you say she'll do great on her project but she isn't so sure but appreciates your faith in her. the two of you decided to do it in her home as her mother claims to need her there for the evening. you were focused on the pictures of little Devon on the wall as she drew. "I've never seen someone so serious other than my mother," she joked, cracking a smile on your face.

Anthony LaRusso - he introduced two mediums when he was getting to draw you: the pencils and markers. you didn't get the whole marker thing, but rest assured when he said he was going to add colour in the background to make you the main focus point of the drawing. he was mostly quite, but did make a couple comments responding to any of the questions you had for him. it was awfully nice with how quiet it was as there was classical jazz music playing in the background — you didn’t even know that he liked jazz, you thought he was more of a rock kid.

Samantha “Sam” LaRusso - similarly to her younger brother, maybe this who he got it from, opted for two mediums to draw you with. though she was much more talkative than he was, making small talk wasn't her thing, the two of you had a full conversation about how your life was going and everything. you say that it's going well but incredibly stressful due to personal reasons you wished to not be brought up, she understood and moved onto a different topic to make you more at ease. she hands you the drawing once she's done — she has charcoal and marker all over her fingers. you thought it was silly of her to do those two mediums together as they are known to be messy, but she made them work. she really captured the look in your eye and made you feel somber of how you look through her eyes.

Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz - actually the only one who offers to paint you instead of drawing you. confused but you agreed, you make some small talk into wondering why he didn’t go for the drawing. he tells you if he chose the pencil and paper, he wouldn’t stop erasing the marks he made, so that’s why he opted for the paint. the mistakes could be incorporated as purposeful and he can blend them into something else in the background. he switched mediums in paint from water colour to acrylic paint, it was rather interesting to look at and one of your personal favorites.

Tory Nichols - she simply took a picture of you and began editing it with the drawing tool which you thought was strange. she told you to trust what she's doing, so you just stood there in her room dumbfounded. she seemed to stop doodling on that one and asked you to lay on her bed for another one, confused as to what she was asking but not wanting to piss her off you do what you're told. she took another picture and did the same to it, and once she finished she sent them to you. you look at what she sent you, and it was really cool actually. you actually ended up asking her if she did digital art to her to reply, "Oh, I wished I did, but I don't have time or money for it."

Kenny Payne - says that this is for a school project and he does a similar thing to what Tory does, but he actually does have a tablet to draw on, though he’s worried about it looking too much in an anime style. he promises to try his best to make it look realistic, but you told him that you didn’t mind the anime-looking style and that he should try making you look like one of his favorite characters. he smiles some, calming down, and makes you look like two of his favorites as you seem to have both of their ‘characteristics’. that made you smile upon seeing the drawing, he added special effects in the background to make it seem like you had your own powers.

Should I make a part two? If so, with whom?

[captivatingckcreations]

— first love and kisses!

˖°📷 summary ;; the kids from Cobra Kai is giving you your first kiss OR you were giving them their first kiss // the ones you're giving it to are: Devon Lee, Anthony LaRusso and Kenny Payne ˖° cobra kai characters x you/non-binary reader ˖° cute, fluff, funny, sfw

—. Demetri Alexopoulos

wouldn’t necessarily shy away from kissing you, but he wouldn’t be the one to suggest it. he would let you do whatever, though he is incredibly nervous around you, as he is around everyone besides maybe Eli and Sam. once the two of you did kiss, which was on a date he took you on while claiming it wasn’t one, it was rather warm. you felt his drool escape from his mouth as he pulled you in further. as he pulled you in further, he took a bite of your lip, simply because he wanted to, as his giggles gave that away immediately. where did he learn how to do that?

—. Miguel Diaz

not exactly shy around people like Demetri, but he would rather do it somewhere private so it can be a moment between the two of you. he would like to keep doing it in private until he's comfortable telling everyone else that you've been dating for a little while. you appreciate his honesty and where he was going with it, though your lack of patience makes you want him to hurry up and tell people. he definitely played around in the insides of your mouth and watched as you got flustered in the face from it, but of course you couldn’t say anything. at the time, you two weren’t out with it yet.

—. Robby Keene

he would wait; he would rather wait and watch you go about your day before he made a move. had a look in his eyes, a burning passion, like he had been yearning and working up the courage for years to do this. he grabbed ahold of your face as he plants his first kiss on you and becomes more frantic and hungry as he continues. you let him do whatever he wanted (and needed) to do. it felt amazing and sharp when he did it. he stepped back, almost looking like he regretted doing it, but you stepped forward, reassuring him it was perfectly okay.

—. Devon Lee *💞

bringing up the fact that you wanted to kiss someone made her incredibly nervous, and she even admitted to you that she had never had her first kiss yet. you gawked out a laugh, not thinking she was serious, but she was. "I'm almost sixteen and have never had my first kiss; now my friend is laughing at me for it," she moped, taking a seat on the dojo floor. joining her on the floor, apologizing for not knowing that she hadn't. an idea formed in your head that you might regret later, but she had never had one, so you leaned in and gave her a small peck on the mouth. she blinked at you, and you looked at her - how in the hell were the two of you going to move on from this?

—. Anthony LaRusso *💞

not a fan of the whole idea of kissing, or PDA in general, which kind of bums you out since he's never tried it, or so he's told you. he makes a little joke about practicing with one of the unused dummies his dad has in storage, but you're not allowed to tell anyone about it. you pinky promise him not to tell anyone while giggling, but seriously, he looked deeply in your eyes telling you not to tell a soul. he would be deeply embarrassed if it got out. you wanted to see for yourself if he did or not, and it turns out he was joking and was practicing something else with the dummy. you call him out on his lie before he sneaks a peck on your mouth and tells you that he was being honest. he ran out of there before you can utter anything out of your mouth. that sneaky fool had tricked you and he got away with it!

—. Samantha LaRusso

she would wait, similarly to Robby, but make it clear that she’s eyeing and wanting to do something to you, though it’s not clear to you yet. once the two of you are alone, you ask her what’s with all the staring, and she plays dumb for a little bit before admitting that she wanted to kiss you all day. shocked that she would even say that, you ask her, trying to be bold, if she could kiss you right now. she smiles as she pins you to the ground, her hands are deep in your hair, and you feel a tug at it, but it wasn’t anything major. you break the kiss, all huffed and flustered in the face. she boops her nose on yours and lands a softer, smaller kiss, then walks away, leaving you lying there.

—. Eli Moskowitz

would be waiting all day to kiss you and makes it known; he's not necessarily shy about his declares when it comes to you. you laugh it off, not taking it very seriously that he wants to kiss you. he drags you to the side and begins to kiss you as he tells you he was very serious. he gets aggressive, almost as if he was hungry; his eyes have a certain look indicating that he is before his hand covers your eyes, telling you not to peek. cupping his hand underneath your jaw to hold you upright as he bites your lip, making it bleed; he licks it off so it wouldn’t drip on your shirt.

—. Tory Nichols

would be subtle about her approach at first, then get more vocal about it if you ignored the first couple signs she gave you. she pulls you off to the side for some privacy with you; you were unaware she wanted to kiss now, and it kind of hurt her feelings seeing you were ignoring her. gets aggressive and filled with passion when kissing you, her nails and hands deep in your hair, almost directly on your scalp - guess that's what you get for not paying attention. as time goes on, she gets more gentle when you are paying attention, but when you're not, she's aggressive about it. she also likes to bite your lip, like Hawk (Eli) does.

—. Kyler Park

you kept seeing him around you, not knowing what he wanted to do with you. there were times he looks at you, then looked away to tell his friends something, almost like an elementary school girl. he would be looking sly in the eye, giggling, and flushed in the cheeks. after a little while of doing that, he finally approached you, planted a kiss on your mouth without even asking if that was okay to do. still in shock, he made a joke, well more like a jab toward you, saying that you didn’t kiss or taste like Sam did. confused as to why he would bring her up if he’s kissing you, he didn’t answer that and tried doing another kiss, but you refused, feeling grossed out. why the hell was Sam even brought up? you might have to consult with her later about that or just keep it to yourself…

—. Kenny Payne *💞

you don't know how he feels about kissing because he sends mixed signals, saying 'awh' and 'ew' whenever people kiss. when you asked him how he felt about it, he said he was rather neutral, finding it neither gross nor cute. he continued, saying that the more slobbery kisses, like those he had seen Moon and Piper share, grossed him out. when you offered to give him a little peck to see how he would like it, that seemed to catch his interest. "Please don't drool on me," he begged, making you laugh. you promised that you wouldn't, and he handled it rather well, leaning in to give you a kiss back, which caught you off guard a little. you gladly accepted and leaned forward into it.

—. Shawn Payne

he is the opposite of his baby brother and doesn't mind the slobber or drool. you learn this when you came to visit him a couple times, you don't remember which one. he got so excited to see you on one visit and scooped your face with his hand, planting a massive kiss that clearly took some breath with it. "wow," is all you muster, looking up at him. he smiles and asks if you want another, you tell him after you get your breath back. through your panting, you can see a sneaky smirk form on his face. he plants another before giving you time to recover. he plays around with your lip and squishes your face some as he breaks it off. his time came and went, watching him leave as you're out of breath and hurt. you huff out a defeated sigh as he has to go back.

—. Aisha Robinson

she seems to toy around with the idea of wanting to kiss you, so it can be planted in your head somewhere, making you wonder when she's going to do it. you think of it a lot actually, almost making you blank out at practice, causing you sneak glances at her whenever you see her. she knows about the looks you give her but acts like she had no clue you were doing that. she is still playing around with you before she took it amongst herself to take a sweeter route to kiss you herself, almost taking you off guard, but it didn't. the game is done and over, as it went on long enough between the two of you. the kiss between the two of you was long, almost never-ending; you wished it never ended as her lips were soft and covered in a vanilla balm. she broke it with a tiny kiss to your nose before taking off for the night, and sending you on your way with a little finger wave goodbye.

© captivatingckcreations | original link [original posting date - Sunday, May 19th, 2024] {boost the post by liking, reblogging, and sharing!}

[boredzillenial]

Dresses

Drabble Synopsis: afab!reader feeling dysphoric trying on dresses to attend a friends wedding, supportive Steven as always 🥰

*Could be non-binary or gender fluid reader. Mentions of body dysphoria, embarrassment

Author’s note: lil self indulgence while I’m feeling crummy

Steven didn’t miss much when it came to your anxiety, especially not today. He holds your hand with a firmer grip than usual as you both make your way down the shopping center. “I’m sure you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says softly “We could find a nice jumper or a pantsuit for their wedding, yeah?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat and shake your head, eyes locked on the ground. “It’s just a dress.”

He steps in-front of you for a moment and lifts your chin, “It’s not just a dress love, not if you’re this nervous.”

Stubbornness flashes as you hold his gaze, “Yes, it is.”

“Alright, lead on.” Steven smiles softly and steps aside, opting to follow quietly beside you. As you both continue on though it’s you who holds his hand a bit tighter.

As soon as the glass doors of the boutique open the strong scent of perfume and slightly too loud music hit your senses. Then came all the colors.

Rack and racks of bright tops, ruffled dresses and sleek gold jewelry line the walls. In the middle sat a small collection of lounge chairs in-front of a large curved mirror.

“Do you want some space love?” He asks softly, nudging your arm to draw your attention.

“Ah, y-yeah.” You nod, hesitantly letting go of his hand and watching as he goes to sit in one of the plush chairs. “Okay, you got this.” You murmur before tentatively thumbing the closest rack of fabrics.

The soft textures calm your nerves, at least these feel like they’ll be comfortable. But as you pull things out the hyper feminine cuts and repeated ruching has your determination wavering.

“Finding everything okay dear?” A short older woman with a small name tag on her pillowy blouse chirps behind you, sending you with a gasp into the brightly colored tops.

“Shit! Sorry yeah ah, Susan, just looking for a dress.“

“Oh silly, the dresses are this way. Come with me!” She takes your arm and pulls you along to the other side of the shop.

Steven watches wide eyed when you pass him. An awkward smile and shrug cross your features as she tugs you along.

“Alright darling let’s see,” she eyes you up and down, “ah yes - with your figure I think these will do nicely.” She pulls dress after dress, laying them across your arms.

After she’s stacked several dresses in your arms she leads you over to one of the few dressing rooms. Steven perks up and looks eagerly at the pile in your grasp. “Feeling ambitious are we?”

“She is,” you chuckle and nod to Susan who’s opened the dressing room door.

“Come now your sweetheart will be right here waiting to see too.” She waves you inside and shuts the door behind you with a quiet click.

Unease creeps in the empty space as you hang up the dresses on the nearby hooks. You take a shuddering breath and glance at your reflection staring opposite you. “You got this.” The quiet reassurance feels hollow now that it’s actually time to try things on. How could fabric be so, unnerving…

You undress with your back to the mirror. Tossing the first dress overhead, pulling it down to about where you think it should be before turning to face your own reflection.

“Ohh, okay.” You gulp

“How it going? Ready to show and tell?” Susan’s voice lilts through the tight slats in the door.

“Ah,” you hum and glance down, heat rising to your face as you realize just how much cleavage this dress accentuates.

“Come now your beau is waiting!”

“Alright.” You step out, and Steven’s face says it all. A wash of pink creeps up his neck and paints his cheeks.

“Oh wow…” he moves to stand only to sit and cross his legs with a chuckle “You look, great.”

As you step out in-front of the multi angled full body mirror everything you usually de-emphasis is on full display. And while Steven is all too excited to see your assists flaunted in the flowey fabric your fretful movements and expression have him quickly losing his enthusiasm.

“But I mean, let’s see the rest yeah?” He urges, snapping you out of your whirling doubt long enough so you can make it into the privacy of the dressing room.

You yank the dress over your head and pull over the next. The neckline isn’t nearly as revealing but it clings closer to your curves. From the front it isn’t awful though. You poke your head out and step infront of the faceted mirror again. “This one isn’t bad I think?”

As you turn to get Stevens reaction his expression is wide eyed and that blush has deepened a shade. “Yeah ah, did you look at the back?”

You turn, turmoil roils in your belly and sends you speed walking back safety. As you press your forehead against the dressing room door the image flashes in your mind, ruching down the back went all the way down the cleft of another asset you weren’t looking to highlight.

Quicker than the last you yank the dress off, losing your footing and stumbling. A loud thud resounds in the silence as your head connects with the wall.

“Sweetheart?” Steven calls softly from the other side. “Can you let me in?”

You stifle your sniffles as tears prick your eyes from the ache in your head. You crack the door open just enough for him to come inside and close it quickly behind him.

Stevens expression softens as he sees the frustration and embarrassment carved into your features. “Shhh come here love.” He murmurs, pulling you into a tight embrace.

He nuzzles against your hair, peppering kisses across your temple. “I just - this shouldn’t be so hard…” you whimper into his shoulder, returning his hug with a tight embrace of your own.

“I know, it’s okay.” He coos, “we can leave when you’re ready.”

“Can I- try one more? Just in here, with you.” You murmur.

“Sweetheart we can do whatever you’d like.” He tightens his grip a moment before taking a step back to better read your expression. “Which one.”

You turn, glancing over the remaining dressing to pull one out. The soft emerald velvet brushes against your fingertips, “This one, I think.”

As you turn back to him Stevens sat in the chair in the corner, legs crossed once again and the deep blush returning to pepper his cheeks. “Sorry love, you are in your underwear.” He chuckles and nods to your hands. “That one looks nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shimmying the soft fabric over your head and into place across your body.

The deep green fabric falls into place, a faux turtle neckline, chest completely covered and somehow even de-emphasized a bit. Hope rises in your eyes as you admire how the cut makes your shoulders look a little wider, how it shows some curves but the rich, deep color make it hard to highlight anything but a strong silhouette.

A soft sigh from behind you has you meeting Steven’s gaze in the mirror, “You look incredible. And - well-“

“I look like me, I think.” You murmur. “Could use a jacket for when it’s cold, or a shawl,”

“Or me,” He says with a smirk as he wraps his arms around your middle and appreciates the sight of you.

“Cheeky,” you lean back and peck his cheek before turning in his arms, “but yes, I will be keeping you close I suppose.”

“You suppose?” He pokes your sides a bit as he nuzzles into your neck. “You better.”

“I promise.” You smirk, “but we have another difficult task today…” Steven leans back and looks at you quizzically. You sigh and press your forehead against his, “Shoes.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @ominoose @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar @queerponcho @for-a-longlongtime @silvernight-m @ierofrnkk @ingoldthewizard @cosmic-kid-in-motion

[morvantmortuary]

our strange duet --

(Maxi Morvant x Plus size!Non-binary!Reader, 18+)

summary: early in your relationship, Maxi has a hard time focusing on his embalming work after an evening with you. he finds relief, but he's not proud of how.

warnings: discussion of binders and body dysphoria; discussion of being queer in the small-town south; mentions of biphobia; demon possession (sorta); period sex/blood kink; oral (both enby and cis male receiving); light stalking; blatant voyeurism; discussions of fatal wounds and embalming process; penetration with toys; vaginismus/resistance kink, dead dove do not eat with all of this.

general: reader is non-binary and queer (bisexual, but they don't use that word specifically so fudge however). reader is fat/plus size/curvy whatever you want to call it. maxi uses fem-ish petnames for reader. any tweaks to make skin/hair more seamless are appreciated. no use of y/n, as always.

the nice thing about getting to go back and repost my old fics is not only that I get to revisit them, but also that I get to revamp them to match how I write now rather than how I wrote then. 🖤

for this one, my main focus was making Maxi's coming out moment more explicit, because I really thought he deserved it. I wanted it to get more time and emphasis compared to the first write-through, because I was worried the reader moved on kind of quickly in the last version, and I wanted to celebrate him a little. 🖤 I also thought it added to the jarring feeling of the Reaper in the back of his head, comparatively.

special shoutout to @darkhairedmenrule -- I saw your tags about how you missed Maxi, and that inspired me to post this one next. cheers to you, buddy 🖤

Maxi was pretty sure he shouldn’t be thinking of you on top of him last night while he was preparing to embalm the forty-something woman on his table. 

No, in fact, he was certain he shouldn’t. 

Despite the multiple layers of PPE he was wearing - his usual scrubs, gloves, and mask, and then a plastic splashguard over that - he still caught himself feeling oddly vulnerable in front of the decedent. 

He was used to empty, staring eyes, he’d been used to them for more than half his life. But something about Mrs. Berthelot-Yang’s hollow gaze today made him feel like he was the one with just a sheet for modesty’s sake, rather than the other way around. He kept dropping things, leaving them in his office or on the wrong counters, forgetting what he was doing in the middle of filling out paperwork - he couldn’t help but feel like he was fumbling in an entirely different sense, whereas last night couldn’t have felt easier.

But damn, if you didn’t seem to have him utterly bewitched, and you’d only been going out for a month.

Well, okay, three weeks, six days, thirteen hours, give or take fifteen minutes. …But who was counting, anyway? Certainly not him, nope.

There was something about you he was having a hard time putting his finger on, but since that kismet day in the cemetery, he’d found his mind wandering back to you at the most inexplicable moments. He couldn’t hear the afternoon rain pelting his windows without remembering your smile in the passenger seat of his hearse, giggling even when you were soaked. He couldn’t just lay on his couch in the grip of insomnia and watch a shitty horror movie without remembering your soft, clean scent when you were sitting next to him at the theater, and how he’d wondered if the cherry slush would’ve been any sweeter if he’d tasted it on your tongue.

And now, despite the purposeful chill of the prep room, he swore he could still felt the heat of your mostly-bare form pressed against his, when it had taken everything in him not to devour you on the spot.

He’d been careful with you. He’d been so goddamn achingly careful with you, wanting to take this slow. He wanted to make sure he took his time, didn’t scare you off, didn’t lose your interest before he got the chance to...

He blinked out of his trance when he realized he was still standing over Mrs. Berthelot-Yang with the trocar still in his hands, staring at her violently bruised and scraped bare abdomen. Motorcycle crash on the highway. Even with a helmet, she hadn’t been any match for the concrete barrier she’d swerved into in her attempt to move around a semi that had thrown on its brakes. The devastated wife was delivering her clothes tomorrow for her viewing this weekend.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he sighed, shaking his head in exasperation and feeling himself blush. “I don’t know where my head’s at today, I swear.” That was a lie. He knew exactly where his head was at. 

He heard a ghostly chuckle from the very edge of the salt that bordered the edges of the room — not the sharp, cruel ones of some of the House’s permanent residents, but something soft. Almost knowing. He glanced up to see the faintest flicker of movement near the door, as though a figure had just poked their head in the room and pulled it quickly back out again.

There was sudden wafting of a warm, light scent of jasmine and vanilla… a perfume. Her favorite, her wife had told him through tears in the client parlor upstairs - and Maxi couldn’t help but smile a little to himself as he relaxed. It was always a relief to have an understanding guest of honor. 

Or, well, as much as they could be, under the circumstances.

“Thank you for bein’ patient with me,” he said, carefully lining up the sharp tip of the instrument with a spot just beside her navel. “Now, this is gonna look nasty, but I promise it’ll be all right again in just a sec—“

The tip slid through the soft flesh like butter, and he let the trocar do its work before carefully angling it again to perforate the other end of the cavity. With a couple more easy jabs, he set it aside, watching the new wounds attentively before he set to preparing to close what needed closing.

But even as his hands went through the same motions as they had for close to two decades, his mind wandered immediately back to you, and the curiously strong pull you’d had on him already. He couldn’t explain it to himself, but he felt like if he slept with you and you ghosted, it would drive him insane for ages afterwards. He’d had friends with benefits before, sure, but they were usually more of an obstacle to work around with his… other nocturnal activities, than something he ended up entertaining for long.

And he wanted more with you, he already knew that. He wanted so much more, so soon, and he was trying his damnedest to be cool about it, but god if you didn’t make it difficult in the best way. How you liked his morbid jokes, and he genuinely laughed at yours, how you didn’t mind his odd hours or his tendency to ramble about various histories of death and decay at the drop of the hat. How curious you seemed about his work, and your compassion for the families he dealt with. How he loved the way you talked about your own day, even if it was something as simple as your side gig, and the care you took with it even when it was frustrating you. He just liked you. All of you.

And he’d been so close to finally getting all of you last night, when the two of you had stumbled into your bedroom after you’d invited him over —

He maybe should’ve guessed something new was afoot when you’d wanted to change plans from actually going out to just staying in for a quiet evening at your place, but he’d been happy just to get to spend time with you, so he hadn’t thought about it too much. It had genuinely started as the two of you goofing around with some multiplayer horror title over pizza, but when you’d teasingly tried to distract him by kissing his neck like you usually did, you lingered there just a touch longer than normal. There was a bit of teeth to it, a heat that the two of you had skirted but hadn’t quite explored yet.

Needless to say, he’d immediately dropped his controller to pull you into his lap. You hadn’t protested - to the contrary, you’d straddled his thighs with yours, your hand pulling his tie like a leash to close any distance left. 

— Even through the rubber gloves he was wearing now, he swore he could still feel the silk of your skin like fire against his palms. He shook his head again, the trocar wounds closed and now trying to thread the needle so he could sew the dear lady’s mouth closed through the frenulum and up through the septum. But he felt his face burn under his mask as he remembered just how you’d sighed when he’d run his hands up your sides under your top.

Like you were relieved. Like you’d been waiting for him to touch you, almost as much as he’d wanted to.

If you had any idea how hard it had been for him to let you go, especially once he heard that sound, you would’ve called the cops—

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, putting the musculature needle down just a little too hard on the steel table top when he couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

He was instinctively reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose under his glasses when his hand ran smack into the plastic face shield instead. Frustrated, his swore under his breath, about to fling the offending garment across the room when he heard another gentle laugh from the doorway. He hesitated, then carefully exhaled his frustration in a practiced sigh through his nose, before turning to look over his shoulder. 

“Well,” he mumbled, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I’m glad one of us is havin’ fun with this.”

He could see a gentle swirl of white floating in the doorway, like steam out of a shower. For a moment, the swirl changed direction, as though something like a waving hand had interrupted its floating through space.

 With this small encouragement, he turned back to the waiting guest, taking another cleansing deep breath. “Get it together, Morvant, christ,”  he muttered, cracking his neck on both sides before trying again. You had him acting like an amateur in his own House. 

This time, he hooked the needle through the needed places as easily as writing his own name.

He still frowned even as he neatly stitched the lips closed, hearing the faintest echo of his father in his head. Not the torso half-corpse chained to the wall downstairs, thank Everything Below. But the version that still loomed large in the crevices of his brain, that still snidely muttered about his every move if he performed his duties less than perfectly.

Mooning over a mortal. Jesus, his father would’ve taken the belt to him for that. Again.

Once he was satisfied with how her mouth lay, he picked up the wax he’d be using to fill some of the rougher contusions on Mrs. Berthelot-Yang’s face. With a careful angling of a flat blade to get it out of the jar, he rolled it across the side of his latex-gloved hand, letting it warm itself into something malleable.

You would’ve been worth his father’s wrath, he caught himself thinking. He didn’t know quite how he was so confident yet — the unbearable soon-ness of it haunted him again, as he sized up the empty hole the glass shards had left in her cheek — but as he did so, he felt you, flush against him like you were there in the room.

 He’d gotten greedy last night, he knew that, but you’d been right there and so soft, he couldn’t resist. He clenched his free hand through his glove as he remembered the scent of your neck, the lightest hint of some delicious fragrance as he’d taken small, covetous bites of your flesh just to feel you writhe in his grip.

He’d paused his sampling of your skin at the neckline of your shirt, sitting back to watch you open your eyes he stopped. “…Can I take this off you?” His hands were still up at your back, holding you close, but he indicated what he meant in the way he passed them over the fabric. The two of you had a tendency to be all over each other in stolen private moments during the brief time you’d been going out: at the House, in the hearse, on his favorite bench in the cemetery. But these had been careful explorations despite your shared enthusiasm, mostly over clothes due to him never being quite sure who - or what - might be lurking nearby. Now, there was no threat of a paranormal pest, or his spectral sister’s looming eyes from the shadows. 

It was just you and him, alone at last.

He was too close to you not to see the tiniest hesitation on your part - your teeth briefly grazing your lower lip - before you nodded, your coy smile back in place. “…I’d like to keep what’s under it on, though,” you admitted, your voice soft in how close you were to him. “Is that… Okay?”

“Anythin’s fine by me,” he murmured somewhat hazily, nodding as his hands slid down your sides to your thin top. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable, gorgeous.” He savored the feeling of his fingers sliding under the fabric and finding the warmth of your bare skin, curling around its hem, before he glanced up at you one more time to double check. 

You nodded again, your eyes bright with anticipation, and that was all it took for him to yank the flimsy fabric over your head.

Maxi sat back slightly, taking in your mostly-bare torso — your soft stomach was adorably sweet, just as he’d imagined. He admired your clavicle, the way it was set into your shoulders, the way your skin looked with all the small marks collected over a life. You were a miracle, a work of art, just like he’d dreamed. He took you in almost ravenously, wanting to memorize every freckle, mole, spot. The small galaxy that was you.

You shifted in his lap, your arms drawing in slightly over the dark garment covering your breasts. He couldn’t help but move his attention there as well, pausing in his awe-struck inspection. That… wasn’t a bra. At least, not one he was familiar with. He was flustered internally for a moment; he knew he hadn’t dated around in a while, but did they really start making them a whole different way when he wasn’t paying attention? He swore he’d just put a regular one on a nice little octogenarian at work the other day; was that considered outmoded now? An antique?

“…It’s a half-binder,” you said softly, snapping his attention abruptly back to your face. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw you looking shyly down at your thighs, anticipation replaced with more hesitancy. “It’s. Um— It’s for when—“

“Oh, no, that’s not—“ Maxi stumbled and nearly bit his own tongue, cursing himself for interrupting you. But he was desperate for you to understand how much he was only looking at you with wonder, not with second thoughts. He wanted to curl into himself in agony at the mere thought of you having such a notion.

But the way you looked immediately back to him made him think you were almost more nervous than he was, rather than annoyed, and he felt a flash of protective fondness at the expression on your face. 

“I— It’s okay,” he soothed, nodding. He reached up to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he kissed your jaw line. “It’s fine,” he reassured you again, smiling at you. “That’s all okay, darlin’. I only looked concerned because… well,” he paused, feeling his own face warm slightly. “I thought they’d gone and changed how they made bras on me, s’all.”

Your uncertainty was punctured by your surprised laugh, and he immediately felt relieved at the return of your smile, even as he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want to do anything that would make you think he was less than… capable, of taking care of you. But he was only being honest.

“No,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You’re sweet. No, this is a different thing.” You shook your head. “It’s… um.” The shyness crept back into your face, and as much as he wanted to reassure you again, he made himself wait for what you wanted to say. “…Okay, so,” you said slowly, letting out a breath that shook a little around the edges. “Sometimes, um. I have some presentation issues around my…” You paused like there was something stuck in your throat, instead gesturing to your chest under your binder. “And I don’t… really want to have them there. Or out. Or, like…” Your hand clawed for a moment in frustration as you tried to explain. “I just don’t want them to be a focus?” you managed at last, a sigh on the heel of your words. 

“I don’t know, sometimes I’m fine with them! I mean— Obviously,” you gestured shyly to Maxi, who immediately recalled every time he’d pulled down your neckline to nip at the top of your breasts greedily, on his couch during a bad movie, or against the wall of a crypt during a cemetery walk.

“I’m… very familiar, yes,” he agreed, smiling even as he felt the heat in his cheeks.

Your smile in return reassured him, and he watched the tension in you ease. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, and he had to fight not to shiver pleasurably at the contact. 

“I just… today was a bad chest day, is all.” You bit your lip again, clearly still somewhat nervous about this. “And I was just, um. I thought we might… and if I-I flinched, or something, I didn’t want you to think… it was you something you did. Because it’s not. It never would be.“ You looked down at your thighs again as you trailed off, your hands sliding to his shoulders. “It’s just - this thing my brain does sometimes, and I don’t always know when.”

Maxi was trying too hard not to get stuck on the fact that you had implied you’d never flinch from him, from his touch, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird in his chest with muffled excitement. He had been trying to slow down just how hard he’d been falling for you lately, but you weren’t making it easy. You didn’t know, you didn’t know, he reminded himself sternly. He couldn’t take it entirely at face value if he knew what he was hiding from you, and you didn’t.

And ideally, he thought to himself, you never… would. Not completely, anyway.

Because there’s no way you’d stay if you knew what he really was, was there?

Realizing he’d been still too long, been too quiet, his hands went to your hips and squeezed affectionately. “Hey.” He waited until you met his eyes to roll his shoulders in a slow, lazy shrug, smiling up at you. “I’m just happy to be here with you like this,” he said, his tone hushed again as he ran his hands up your bare sides. “Really. That’s all. Whatever you don’t wanna do, or— don’t want me to touch,” His hands stopped a respectful couple of finger widths away from your binder. “We don’t have to, at all. Okay?” He shifted, closing the distance between you so you were almost nose to nose… before he paused again. His lips flattened into a line without realizing, his eyes wandering off to the side as he realized what he wanted desperately to tell you in this moment.

It wasn’t The Necromancy Thing, but it something he didn’t discuss often, that was for damn sure.

“You’re sure?”

He looked immediately back to you, and realized you’d been watching his face. Your eyes were careful, searching - veiled, he noticed with a hint of panic. You must’ve thought his hesitation was about you, when nothing could be further from the truth.

“Yes,” he said immediately, nodding vigorously. “Yes, angel, absolutely.” He tapped his fingers where they rested on your skin. “Your boundaries are yours. I’m not about to want anythin’ you tell me you don’t, I swear.” He smiled at you again, feeling a little nervous now. “I was just… you got me thinkin’, is all.”

You blinked, your eyes lightening a little bit as you leaned back slightly to take him in. “Oh yeah?”

Maxi nodded, wetting his lips out of nervous habit. “I…” He hummed quietly, trying to figure out how to word this, exactly. He cleared his throat before looking back to you. “…You, um.” He swallowed. 

How long had it been since he’d done this? Years? It sure felt like years.

But you were waiting patiently, with that particular little smile of yours that you got when he talked. 

When was the last time someone had smiled when he was speaking, he wondered.

“…When we first met, that day in the cemetery,” he finally said, forcing himself to meet your eyes. “I saw your, um. Your pride pins. On your bag, and all. And then, of course, you told me you use ‘they,' and it got me thinkin’ about…”  he paused again, the words still not quite right. “So I just wanted to… not that it’s the same, of course, but I wanted to… What I mean is… God,” he sighed in frustration, his head falling backwards against the couch to stare at your ceiling. “Why is this hard.”

“…I could state the obvious,” you deadpanned, shifting as you straddled his lap still.

There was a pause as Maxi looked down at your thighs, then back to your face. “I see your point.”

There was a brief second of silence, and the both of you dissolved into giggles, the tension at last broken.

“What are you trying to say, Maxi?” you’d asked when you’d both got it out of your system, tilting your head the other way to catch his eyes again.

Maxi sighed, setting his hands on your hips as if to ground himself. “What I’m tryin’ to say,” he said quietly, forcing it out now. “Is that… me too?”

You blinked, your brow crinkling delicately. “…You ‘too’?”

Maxi groaned, running one hand under his glasses over his face. “You’re gonna have to forgive me, Darlin’, old habits die hard.” He gave you an apologetic smile. “I have to be a little more careful about, y’know… who knows, and all,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the room to indicate Greymoon as a whole. He swallowed again, not sure why his heart was racing, why his palms felt like they were going to sweat. You of all people were someone he knew he could tell this to and be safe. So why did this still scare him? 

“I, um. I’m… bi, too. I’ve known since I was… what, twelve? Thirteen?” He felt himself flushing furiously, watching your face for any dimming, any twitch of uncertainty. People reacted differently to bi men. Like there was something about him that was dubious — tainted, suddenly. Though he knew you wouldn’t do that to him, the anxiety was well-learned. “…If I could signal, y’know, and not get shit for it with my… my job, and all, I would. Maybe a pin, or some nail polish, or… somethin’ little, I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to.” His eyes fell to the floor, sheepish. “But this town is so fuckin’ small, and everyone knew my family my whole life,” he said quietly. “It just wasn’t worth the grief, y’know?” He let out a quick, unsteady exhale. “Shit was lonely enough already.” 

He remembered himself and where he was, his eyes snapping to yours. “I don’t mean to— to make things about me,” he said quickly, his words tripping over themselves. “But because I really want you to know, there’s nothin’ you could do, or change about yourself, or how you present, or anythin’, that would make me… not attracted to you,” he explained. His voice was hushed, like he was trying not to spook you. “Does that make sense?”

Your eyes were bright as you beamed at him, clearly relieved — and, if he dared let himself believe it, even elated. “Yes,” you said, nodding excitedly. “Yes, it totally makes sense.” You leaned in, cupping his face in your hands. “I fucking knew it,” you added in a delighted whisper, before raining kisses down over his face.

Maxi laughed, both relieved himself and a little euphoric. “You’re just sayin’ that.” He felt warmth pooling in his chest at the idea that something about his most private self had rung true to you, somehow, even after years of hiding. He pulled you flush to his torso, eliminating the already minimal space between you.

“I’m— not!” you said between kisses, peppering his forehead and his jaw for the sake of making him laugh again. Finally, you leaned back to look at him as your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders. “Babe,” you said at last, looking him dead in the eye. “I can recognize one of our own, even if they’re hiding it under a damn good suit and some hair gel.” You looked him over exaggeratedly before kissing him on the cheek again, then leaning to whisper in his ear. “But you kind of gave it away when you told me you liked Vincent Price and musicals, not gonna lie.”

Maxi felt himself grinning even as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that.” He leaned forward to jokingly kiss you all over in turn, but you caught his lips with yours before he could make it there, and everything slowed down again. It was warm against your skin, the fabric of your binder feeling like comfort. Trust. His shoulders, for the first time in ages, felt lighter and looser somehow. Kissing you tasted like coming home, and he felt you smile against his mouth as he leaned into you.

In that moment, Maxi was suddenly intensely aware of the feeling of something… else, looking out through his eyes at you.

Something that wanted you - to drink the light from your eyes until there was nothing left - with such a desperate ferocity, he could swear the scream was audible inside his own skull.

Startled by this unbidden urge, he broke this shared kiss abruptly, pressing a messy kiss to your pulse in your throat. External sensation tended to help shut the Reaper up or drown it out, and you gave him plenty of that: the softness of your skin, the scent you wore in your hair, the surprised noise from low in your chest that turned into a barely-muffled moan. He lingered there, drawing it out, feeling you squirm on his lap as your hands found his hair again and tried to tug him upward. He winced only slightly, seemingly determined to leave his unmistakable mark on the precious column of your neck, but internally he was running a panicked inventory. After decades of being aware of the Reaper, the demon that had made him its home, he thought he’d gotten a good handle on just what could set it off. Sure, it had made noises about liking you, especially the more you hung around. It had done that with everyone he’d dated, as inescapable as it was. It was a jealous, territorial sumbitch, but so was he, deep down, so he couldn’t really blame it.

But that fascination, that need… what the fuck was that? Demanding as his darker self was, it had never been that… specific. Blood, flesh, souls, the usual maudlin bullshit, sure, he was used to it railing and howling and carrying on as it called for what it believed was its Due. Sometimes for sleepless nights on end, when he was younger and trying to fight his true nature.

But wanting you? Specifically, to watch the life drain from your face? To feel your flesh grow cold under his palms?

He had the unavoidable mental image of a face that wasn’t his running a tongue over too-sharp teeth in his mouth, and he couldn’t fight a shudder.

Before he could really figure out what had triggered the spike of aggression, however, you’d turned the tables, yanking slightly on his hair so you could capture his lips when he reluctantly let go of your throat. Your hands moved to unbutton the dress shirt he’d worn having come straight from closing up, and he felt you pause when you got so far down, then the twist of your smile against his mouth as your hand found his shirt stays still on once you unbuttoned his slacks. 

“Aw, Maxi - for me?” As much as you were trying to tease, he could hear how you sounded slightly breathless, your fingers shy as they skimmed over the elastic.

His face positively burned, and he wondered if you could feel its warmth, as close as you were. “Well,”  he mumbled, suddenly unable to quite meet your gaze. “You mentioned that you, um. Didn’t mind, last time—“

“No,’ you corrected, and he looked up immediately.

You were fighting a grin as you toyed with the one on his left thigh, before your eyes flicked back to his. “I said I thought they were hot, remember?” You gave him a coy smirk. “That’s different.”

He had to remind himself to swallow just then, the Reaper well and truly quiet as his brain was too overloaded to process much else besides your expression and your fingers tracing along the inside of his thighs. With some maneuvering, you had his shirt open a moment later, your hands roving over the coarse hair on his torso. 

Something else he couldn’t help but adore about you, besides the enchantingly warm squish of your figure against him, was the way you seemed just as taken with him as he did with you in that aspect. Lord knew why - he knew he was that slightly confusing mix of lean with a soft stomach, and he still didn’t know how to feel about that even now - but it was also the way you didn’t seem to flinch at any of his scars. Namely and especially the thick line of tissue over his heart, where his father had beat him to the punch and drawn first blood all those years ago, and where he’d painstakingly re-opened it not long after, trying a particularly dark bit of magic in attempt to dull his own pain.

As he’d held you in his arms, feeling your warm palm ghost over it with all the sweetness in the world, he was so bitterly glad that it had backfired - and not as badly as it had for his late sister.

“I want you.” You’d said it so softly, your lips brushing his, that it nearly broke him. “Please?”

“I’m yours.” He’d answered as automatically as breathing, and for a second he’d felt at least a fraction of the blood rush back to his face, realizing just how… eager, he must have sounded. But you’d only laughed in that way that left him weak every time, and when he’d shifted underneath you to kiss you harder, it had hitched into the sweetest breathy moan when his cock pressed against the core of you through the cotton shorts you’d worn.

“Goddamn, Maxi,” you’d whispered, pulling away to glance down between the two of you. It was everything he could do not to let himself smirk. 

You’d turned it right back on him though when your eyes met his again with what was unmistakably hunger. “You gonna wreck me with that, babe, or just make me suck on it?”

He’d heard the soft hissing inhale through his teeth before he even realized it was him, his hand gently settling over your throat. Even as he held it like it was made of glass, he still felt himself freeze, realizing he hadn’t asked you first. He watched your eyes, nervously retracting his hand just slightly to hover above your skin — only to relax when he saw the entertained glint there, and the way you tilted your chin back to grant him access.

He replaced his hand delicately, his thumb lovingly tracing the vein he knew lay just underneath your skin from years of filling others with formaldehyde. “You’ve got a hell of a mouth on you, sugar,” he’d murmured darkly, unable to help himself. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna give me ideas.”

This was apparently the right thing to say, because you’d shoved your neck further into his palm as you’d kissed him furiously, grinding your cunt against his length as you did so.

He’d had to will himself to keep at least a modicum of self-control, both hands falling to your hips and pulling you harder against him to hear you gasp. As he felt the faintest trace of heat and slick through the thin garment of your underwear, his grip turned to steel, fighting the urge to yank away the meaningless little fabric between the pair of you and push into you to give you what you wanted — what he wanted, if he was being honest, just to feel you clench around him in any capacity. When he heard your gasp change to a soft, tremulous moan as you moved again, it took everything in him to force himself to let go of your waist.

“Your room.” He’d blurted it before he realized quite what he was doing, and you’d blinked at him, your eyes already sweetly hazy. “…Please,” he added, swallowing slightly. “I want to-- I need to do this right.” He pressed a soft kiss to your jawline, hoping he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. “I wanna do this like you deserve.” If this was going to go how he thought, he wanted to make sure it mattered. That even if it was all he ever got, he could say he’d gotten to really savor all of you while he’d had it ever so briefly in his grasp.

Your laugh was shaky but real, and you tilted your head to kiss him again (and, unbeknownst to you, muffle his sigh of relief). “You fucking angel, you’re so sweet,” you’d murmured, kissing his mouth and his cheek and the tip of his nose in quick succession. “C’mon.” You’d stepped backwards onto your floor, grabbing his hands to pull him up with you, and the two of you had only run into a chair and one wall when you couldn’t be bothered to look up from refusing to let go of the other person.

Maxi had been over to your house enough times that it wasn’t too odd how well he could pick his way through your living room, and then your hallway. Luckily, by the time he was walking you backwards to your bed, you were too busy nipping his lower lip and gripping the back of his neck to notice just how well he could navigate across your somewhat messy floor, sidestepping you carefully around things he logically shouldn’t have already known were there.

But he’d gotten very well acquainted with your floor in the last couple of weeks. And the space under your bed, which if he was being honest, was more comfortable than most, if only for the rug underneath and the lack of perilous storage boxes he’d have to contort himself to fit around. It would’ve been downright homey, comparatively, if he wasn’t constantly in danger of knocking his head on your bed frame if he sat up too quickly.

In that moment, he’d been beyond thrilled to be with you on top of your mattress as the two of you fell towards it. He was more than happy to be pinned beneath your full hips, his hands caressing your sides, and feeling you push yourself against his cock already leaking into his clothes as you sought any sort of friction between the two of you. This was more than agreeable. If you wanted to ride him until he couldn’t remember his own name, that would be divine. There would be plenty of time after to fuck you into your mattress until you ruined your sheets, he had all night. 

Your fingers had finally hooked into the open waistband of his slacks when suddenly you hissed a curse under your breath, withdrawing so abruptly he was left bewilderedly blinking at your ceiling for a moment.

“Gorgeous?” He sat up to see where you’d pulled back, your expression at once stricken and frustrated. “What’s wrong- you okay?” He felt himself snap out of his own blissful trance, looking you over for any immediate obvious cause of distress. “…Is it somethin’ I did?” He swore he’d just been laying here savoring the taste of your tongue - did he miss something obvious? Had he been careless, distracted? The latter had made him panic even more, wondering if the dark presence inside him had somehow made itself known when he had his guard down.

“No,” you shook your head quickly, pressing your lips together in a slightly aggravated line. “No, baby, it’s not you.” You sighed heavily, sitting back and crossing your legs as you looked… embarrassed? You bit your own lower lip hard for a moment, clearly annoyed with something, before you glanced at him from under your lashes. “…My uterus has the worst fucking timing, is all.” You have him a rueful grimace, wincing slightly as you did so. 

Maxi felt himself exhale a laugh in relief, his fear immediately abating. “Oh, babydoll - is that all? Hell, I don’t care.” He shrugged, his shoulders suddenly immeasurably light compared to a second ago. “Or — wait, shit, hold on.” He caught himself a second too late, blushing slightly at his own phrasing and quickly running his palm over his face under his glasses. Smooth, dumbass. “I mean,” he said, showing you his palms apologetically. “That I don’t mind. But obviously,” he gestured to you. “I don’t wanna do anything that would make you… uncomfortable.” He gave you a smile meant to be genuinely soothing, but only relaxed when he saw you let out a breath you’d seemed to be holding.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.” You rolled your eyes, falling on your back next to him with an exaggerated sigh. He immediately stretched out next to you, determined to be as close to you as possible while he had the chance. You were always a vision, to him, but stripped down like this, you were something he wanted to treasure. “I tend to be really… sore, later, after my first day. Like, ‘hurts to sit down’ sore, sometimes.” You rolled onto your side, and your fingertip traced a soft line down his chest and stomach that stopped just above the exposed fabric of his boxers. He suppressed a visible shiver as best he could, but it was a struggle. “And based on what you’re packing, babe,” you said, your eyes flicking downward before meeting his and causing him to forget to breathe for a moment. “I don’t think I’m going to be quite able to handle it all tonight. Which sucks,” you added, with an embarrassed giggle. “Because if I’m being totally honest with you, I was really looking forward to it.” You have him a small, shy smile that still felt somehow conspiratorial. 

Jesus, you were going to kill him. He was going to die right there in your bed from the sheer thought that you’d wanted him as much as he’d pined after you.

He took a breath as subtly as he could, trying not to give away that you’d about knocked it all out of him. “Don’t worry about it.” He reached over, lightly moving some of your hair away from your eyes. “Again, I don’t want to do anythin’ you don’t want to do. Right now, later, whenever.” He smiled, admiring your bare stomach and thighs in the soft light of your bedroom window, how the beginnings of the blue hour reflected just a certain way off your skin. You were already lovely from his place in the dark, but out here with you? Where you’d wanted him to see you? “You’ve got me as long as you want me.” His eyes had met yours again, taking in how those shone as well, how he wished he could see them in this light more often.

“But I really do want you, though,” you said with just a hint of a whine, and when you leaned in to kiss him again, it was everything he could do not to roll and pin you down so he could kiss you everywhere, slowly and deliberately. You moved closer to him on your mattress, your hand skimming lower over clothes that now felt far too tight. “Can I… help with this, at all?” —

Maxi swore softly to himself as he mis-aligned the apple of the decedent’s cheek again, impatiently picking up the clay and re-rolling it into what it would’ve looked like if half of it hadn’t been ground off onto the hot concrete of the highway once the visor of the helmet had been smashed out.

“I swear I can do this,” he said over his shoulder, still smelling the hint of perfume. “I’m just… havin’ a day, is all. You know how it is.”

He paused, looking back down at the face he was working on restoring and feeling slightly mortified with himself. “I mean, of course you do. Of course. I’m so sorry, that was thoughtless of me. I’m - I’m just gonna shut up now,” he muttered, furiously re-rolling the clay in his hands to try to change the texture.

When he felt the tiniest ‘thump’ against his shoulder blade, like a heavy palm lightly clapping him on the back, he about jumped out of his skin. 

— As cool as you were trying to be about it, he could hear just the slightest hesitancy in your voice still, and he could’ve died at the idea you thought he would still say no to you. 

“I…” His face felt almost drunkenly warm as he tried desperately to get his brain to work with him here, overwhelmed with just how long he’d ached for you to touch him at all, the warmth of your flesh threatening to scorch his normally cool skin. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to? I—“ He forgot what words were for a second as he felt your hand move again, your fingertips skimming the skin above the waistband between the pair of you. “I’d wanna be able to reciprocate, somehow,” he managed, forcing himself to meet your eyes again. “However, um—“ Oh, you’d been positively teasing him then, sliding his trousers down as slowly as possible while you watched his face. Your expression was sweet, your lips parted just slightly as if in innocent curiosity, but he could still see that light in your eyes that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. “However you feel comfortable,” he said, buying himself time by gently taking your hand in his. “I don’t want this to just be about me.” He couldn’t have imagined anything more agonizing than you touching him and him not being able to touch you. It just wasn’t how he was built. He kissed the back of your hand, and the wickedness in your eyes liquefied into something soft. “Please?”

You bit your lip thoughtfully, considering. He knew what it was to be vulnerable with someone new - to be even more vulnerable than you’d maybe expected, in your case. He gazed at you earnestly, hoping you would see that he was already devoted, there was nothing about your body that could scare him, because it was yours, and at this rate, he was as good as.

“…Okay,” you said at last, and he couldn’t help but beam when you smiled a little at his enthusiasm. “But only whatever you’re cool with. Don’t feel like you have to reciprocate in exactly the same way, if you don’t want to.”

“Try me.” Maxi said, quirking a brow in a playful challenge.

“Oh, I intend to,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth before dipping lower to trace the scar over his heart with the white-hot tip of your tongue.

Maxi fought to keep his surprised inhale from being too obvious as you did so, feeling his already present blush turn into a full flush down his neck and shoulders. He’d been with other people, sure, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seemed to… savor that part of him, quite like you were.

But of course you’d caught that. You looked up quickly, meeting his eyes with a furrow of concern. “Sorry,” you said softly, your eyes flicking between his and his scar. “I- Should I not—?”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, kissing your cheek hastily. “You’re fine, sugar, I’m just… not used to that, s’all.” His fingertips ghosted down the line of your jaw, watching your brows ease apart. “…People tend to avoid it,” he explained quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile and a shrug of his shoulder.

You blinked. “Oh.” You glanced sheepishly down again. “I should’ve asked first, I know, I just—“ You lifted a hand, your fingers ghosting over the ridge of tissue you’d just claimed with your tongue, and Maxi found himself not only enjoying the feeling, but leaning into it as much as he dared. “…I just figured, it’s you,” you murmured, your eyes finding his again. “And I-“ You broke off, teeth grazing your lip self-consciously like you were fighting a laugh at yourself. “I want that too.”

Maxi sat up with an abruptness that drew a small squeak from you, lifting you so you were straddling his lap now. One hand tangled in your hair as he kissed you hard, the other hand squeezing your hip with a need he was sure gave away just how desperate he was for you —

He slammed down the clay knife a little harder than he meant to on the steel table surface, cussing up a storm under his breath as he failed for a third time to get it shaped exactly how he needed it over the partially exposed gums. “Come on,” he growled, not sure if he was more annoyed with his lack of focus or embarrassed at just how completely you’d invaded his every sense, leaving him stumbling like an apprentice on their first day. 

Probably even moreso, given just how long he’d been helping shape flesh back into faces before he was of legal age.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, straightening up and folding his gloved hands behind his head. He turned away, unable to quite face the woman he was making a fool of himself in front of on his on table. “I swear, this has never happened before, really. I’m absolutely gonna have you lookin’ right as rain for your viewin’, I promise, I’m just… feelin’ a bit off, today.” He gave a long, slow exhale, one that shook just a little bit around the edges. He had to focus. He had to try. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this hundreds of times.

But you — you were something new. He’d never had to work with someone like you in his head, before.

And it seemed to be having the worst time trying to hold his infatuation and his professionalism in the same amount of space.

— His brain immediately returned to how you’d kissed him back with just as much eagerness, your teeth nipping his lower lip, and when his tongue had filled your mouth, you sucked on it in a way that went straight to the base of his spine.

“PleasecanItaketheseoffyou?” he’d asked in a single breath as he broke away, his fingers hooking impatiently into the cotton lounge shorts you were still wearing.

You looked shy again. “Um. I’m not…“ You stumbled, choosing your words. “I’m not wearing a lot underneath,” you mumbled. “I thought I still had a day or so, and I wouldn’t want to—“ You gestured loosely at the white dress shirt he still had barely hanging about his shoulders, more off than on at this point.

Maxi pressed another messy kiss to the side of your neck, emboldened and secretly thrilled by the idea that you’d been planning ahead for this. That you’d wanted to, been hoping for it maybe as much as he had. “I don’t mind,” he said against your skin, and he felt your head fall back slightly as he kissed down to the crook of your shoulder. “I swear to god I don’t mind, there’s no part of this I don’t mind, I promise you—“

“Okay,” you half-breathed, half-giggled in his ear, and you got your knees under you to hover over his waist just as he pulled down, finding the black mesh waiting for him underneath.

“Baby.” He nearly whined at the sight, his hands moving covetously over the curve of your ass as he admired you. “Fuck, you’re pretty. You always are, of course,” he added quickly, looking up at you where you were still perched up over him on your knees. “Of course I knew that, but— fuck,” he repeated, his hands moving up your plush hips and your soft sides adoringly. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You giggled in a way that went right to his chest. “Calm down, Monsieur, you’ve already got me naked,” you teased, still looking a bit shy.

He hooked his arms around your waist, pulling your stomach flush to his chest where he was somewhat pinned under you. “I mean it,” he whispered, and he watched your face, the self-conscious half-smile falling away at what must be the sheer dark intensity of his gaze. “You have no idea how much I want you. Just like this.” 

He was sure his eyes would have changed, the way he was looking at you. He couldn’t always feel it when they did, but the yowling ache of Want inside him as he looked at you like this, for him — you had to have to seen it. There’s no way you could have seen him and missed it, the way he wanted you all to himself, folded into his arms against the dark that threatened to swallow him up when he thought of being parted from you. 

He knew it was scary, especially so soon. It scared him too, in a way. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d unwound yourself from his grasp right then and thrown him out.

…But, miracle of miracles, you hadn’t.

You’d watched his eyes with a tilt of your head, transfixed by what, he wasn’t totally sure. But your stare was curious - and, eventually, oddly familiar. He saw it then, that flicker of pure Want, not quite as sharp or dark as his own. But it had been there as you looked down at him, your hands lightly carding through his hair… before one set of fingers tangled in it, scraping ever so lightly at his scalp.

That dark presence in him - something that had no business being so close to you, especially not this quickly - crowed in triumph in a way it hadn’t in a long, long time.

You leaned down, catching his lips in yours, and he met you with a kiss that bordered on ravenous. He couldn’t help the sound that escaped him when you gave another careful, experimental tug at his hair — which blossomed into a full moan when you’d pulled harder, eliminating what space there’d been still between you.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded as you broke away, the pair of you panting as though you were starved for air. “What can I do for you?”

“…Those all the way off,” you said softly, nodding down at his open slacks as your tongue traced your lips - which, he’d noticed, had begun to look just the tiniest bit swollen with his attentions.

He let go of you only long enough to fumble with them and the accompanying underwear, unable to help a smirk when your own hands had dropped to help him when you decided he wasn’t quite moving fast enough for you. He’d been appreciative of every display of your enthusiasm so far, but the need he’d felt crackling between the pair of you at that moment had been undeniable.

Maxi slid them off with your help, immediately pulling you back against him as soon as they rustled to your bedroom floor. He was trying to keep his breathing level as he felt you finally skim your palm lightly over his cock, and he couldn’t help but glance down to see you sizing it up.

“Damn, Maxi,” you murmured, glancing back to watch his face as you took it fully in hand. 

He bit down hard on his lip as you spread the drops that were already waiting there over the head, trying not to be so obvious in how much he’d been wanting you to touch him. 

“Were you planning on making sure I couldn’t walk tomorrow?”

He opened his mouth to answer, only to have the words tangle into something somewhat incoherent when he watched you move down his abdomen to lick a long, hot stripe towards his hips. 

The pressure at the base of his spine was taking over the rest of his brain, and all he wanted was the heat of you around him, wishing he could do exactly as you said.

“Depends on what you wanted, pretty,” he managed through his teeth, feeling his fingers dig into his own palms. 

“Oh yeah?” You glanced up at him, moving so your torso was perched gently on his thighs. You ran a fingertip lightly up the inside of one, smirking a little as he obviously squirmed. 

Maxi forced himself to nod. “I swear I could— be careful,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he watched you lick your own palm lasciviously. “I wouldn’t hurt you, I promise—“

“Unless I wanted you to?” 

He knew you felt him spasm in your palm in response. It was too obvious. He said nothing, looking from where his cock was aching, leaking in your hand to your eyes, where you were watching his face with such a dark glitter to them that he had to fight to keep his hips still in response.

“…Okay,” you said slowly, your smile enigmatic. “Good to know.”

Oh, shit. He was a goner now.

You didn’t say much else, your hand gliding up his shaft and gripping just enough to make him inhale raggedly. You gave him a couple of experimental strokes, watching still — 

Before your mouth was around him, and he had to fight to keep his shit together.

“Fuck.” His hands tangled hard into your bedspread, trying to keep himself grounded through this onslaught. He’d kissed you a million times by now - he couldn’t help himself when you were around - and just like then, you were slow, deliberate. Taking your time with him because you seemed to like keeping him right on the line of agony and bliss. 

He felt the softest puff of air, like a suppressed laugh, and when he looked down he felt everything inside him seize at the way you were watching him, your eyes mischievous as he saw a thread of saliva trace its way from your lower lip down his shaft.

He fell back against your pillow with a moan, forcing himself to look away so he could keep from totally embarrassing himself with you. You had no right to look that perfect with your mouth on him like that. His fist knitted tighter into your comforter, until he felt the soft touch of your hand on his - looking down, he let you gently pull his hand away from your bed and set it in your hair, holding it there for a second as if to reassure him before your hand returned to pinning his hips to your mattress. 

Tentatively, he curled his hand in your hair, not wanting to pull hard enough to hurt. He relished the feeling of its familiar texture, something he’d come to love in the time the two of you had spent on the couch with your head on his shoulder. He was just willing himself to be gentle when he heard the quietest noise, and it was only when he felt a shift in your mouth that he realized you’d taken him deeper.

He pulled hard on your hair reflexively, gasping at the change, at the soft sound of you fighting to take him into your throat. “Fuck, angel, you don’t have to...” He looked down at you, and the slight glaze of tears at the corner of your eyes made him forget himself so entirely, he felt his hips thrust forward before he could stop himself.

If you hadn’t been ready for him, he would’ve hated himself for being so careless with you. But you met his worried eyes with something of a challenge, your tongue tracing the underside of his shaft invitingly, and something dark in him delighted at the mirror it seemed to find in you.

Experimentally, Maxi thrust up again, and when he could feel you fighting to control your breath, he wound his fingers tighter in your hair and pulled.

Your moan couldn’t have been more exquisite, and Maxi at last let himself give in.

He wasn’t a monster - his thrusts were tempered, short, but he lost himself in the feeling of you around him: the warmth of your mouth, the soft ragged puffs of your breath, the spit that dripped from your lips. With the lovely wreck you made, and the way he felt you carefully take the rest of him in your hand to make sure no part was neglected, he found himself falling apart fairly soon.

“Darlin’,” he whined, glancing down at you through the now lightly fogged lenses of his glasses. “I can’t take this, I’m— I’m close, I have to—“

It was the way your eyes locked on his and the subtle shake of your head that finally sent him over. The sharp, clear gaze you gave him, the way you made it clear he was doing this your way. That this was something of his that you wanted for yourself.

He came with a shaky groan of your name, feeling the tiniest bit guilty he did so alone, but unwilling to deny how much he loved watching you as he did.

When you finally sat back, gasping, he sat up and immediately crushed his lips to yours like a man possessed, his hands gently cupping your face. He could taste just a trace of himself still on your tongue, and everything that just happened crashed over him at once, turning his kiss nearly feral. 

Even through catching your breath, you giggled again at his eagerness, and he knew immediately he would fight a pissed-off alligator for you if it ever came to that. Two alligators. Possessed ones. There was nothing in the world he wouldn’t face for that sound.

“So you enjoyed yourself then,” you teased, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’d hoped so.”

“You were divine,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss your bare neck like a man called to worship. “I mean - I already thought so,” he added. “But that was…” He felt his brain go pleasantly blank again, distracted by whatever scent you were wearing on your skin. 

You smiled under his praise, but there was the tiniest hint of relief in your eyes. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages, to be honest.” You leaned forward, kissing the end of his nose as he blinked at you in surprise. “I knew you’d be hot when you weren’t totally together. Not that you’re not hot when you’re put together,” you continued, seeing his eyebrows begin to knit together. “I mean, I’ve been wanting you to rail me in those suits of yours forever, obviously.” You waved a hand as if this were, in fact, obvious, despite Maxi having a very distinct hiccup of brain activity at the mere thought. 

“But you’re always so… poised, Maxi,” you said, your hands lovingly coming to rest on his now-bare chest. “I know you have to be, with everything that can go wrong with what you do,” you went on, and he had to keep his face neutral at just how close to the truth that came. “But I’ve been… curious,” you leaned forward, your lips an inch from his as you searched his eyes. “About what I’d see when you finally let go for me.”

Maxi watched you apprehensively as you reached up and ruffled the hair that sweat had undone. You fixated on it slowly sliding over one of his lenses, where it was naturally inclined to lay when he didn’t attack it with hair gel and a comb every day, and after a moment, you sat back with a smirk. “I have to say, baby, I really like it.”

You weren’t totally prepared for when he moved forward suddenly, capturing you in a kiss while flipping you beneath him. He delighted at the soft moan around his tongue in your mouth, only pulling back to hover over you when you were both absolutely out of breath. 

“If I wanted to make you come so hard you can’t think straight,” he whispered, dark eyes boring into yours. “What’s the best way I could do that right now?”

He watched the coquettish set of your face dissolve into a mixture of surprise from his phrasing and - what he was far more excited by - open, undeniable need. Your teeth grazed your lower lip hard, but he got the feeling that you weren’t having to think about it. No, this seemed more like you were hesitating.

“Try me,” he repeated, more insistent now. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then kissed you properly, coaxing you into something more heated. He lingered until he felt you relax a bit, opening up to him, before he pulled back just enough to speak. “I mean it, anythin’.”

Your guard was down, because he saw your eyes move briefly towards where his hips were resting against yours, your back arching very slightly to rock gently against his hipbone in search of any sort of contact. But they snapped back to his immediately, widening when you must’ve realized you’d given yourself away.

“You a hundred percent do not have to reciprocate,” you blurted, your words tripping off your tongue in your hurry. “Especially not, like, today,” you added with an apologetic wince. “Obviously. I’m not about to ask you to— well.“ You looked askance, embarrassed. “Not our, um. Our first… time, and all.”

Maxi snorted, smiling wryly. “Babydoll. C’mon, now.” He propped himself up on an elbow, cocking his head to look at you. “What, did you think I was gonna try to dodge that every month? Twiddle my thumbs ’til it was over?”

You met his eyes again, yours wide - and Maxi realized he’d tilted his hand, hinting at anything remotely close to a future together this soon. He opened his mouth to backtrack, kicking himself for being so presumptuous… when you looked off to the side again, giving a tiny shrug. 

“I didn’t want to assume or anything,” you said, smiling shyly. “Some people just aren’t into it.”

He managed to disguise a sigh of relief as a chuckle, realizing you weren’t automatically discouraging the idea of a… repeat engagement. Hell, that you didn’t even seem to be that put off by the thought of him sticking around. 

“Well. I appreciate your lookin’ out,” he said, tilting his head further to meet your eyes. “But trust me when I say there’s nothin’ about you I’m not into.”

You laughed, disbelieving, but there was a curiosity in your eyes that, when he saw it, he couldn’t look away from. “Define ‘into’ here, babe.”

Maxi sat up a little more, skimming your torso with a rakish glance. “Put it this way,” he drawled, leaning down to kiss just underneath the elastic of your top. “When you do what I do, there isn’t much about the human body you don’t learn to appreciate, in its own way.” 

He ran the broad swathe of his tongue down the curve of your stomach as he moved lower, causing you to inhale through your teeth and squirm slightly. He trapped your plush hips in his hands, fingers nimbly spreading and adjusting to hold you down against your mattress. His thumbs worked their way under the waist of the pretty sheer underwear you’d worn - for him, his insides twisted with eagerness at the thought - down over the skin, as though he were unveiling you. 

“There’s nothin’ I don’t find more beautiful than somethin’ alive just bein’ allowed to be itself.” He kissed your lower abdomen with parted lips, his teeth grazing lightly below your navel just to hear your gentle sound of surprise, to feel you try to move against his palms… and find you couldn’t break his grip. He couldn’t help but sneak a peek at your face, or help the grin that was just a touch too sharp when your eyes were already hazy and huge. “…And it’d be a sin,” he added quietly. “For you to feel like you had anythin’ to be shy about.” He held your gaze as he shifted his hands to your thighs, letting you watch as he pulled them a little wider, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh.

He waited for a response from you - the barest nod, given with only a short dazed lag - before he settled his torso between them, his thumbs tracing the velvet of your skin. He planted an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of each, just adjacent to your cunt, with all the slow measured movements of a ritual. He took the opportunity to adjust his grip again, his right hand shifting slightly upward to mitigate the jolt of your hips, his left staying anchored to your thigh as he continued to rub circles there.

He didn’t know what his eyes were doing when he looked at you a last time, but he could feel the Reaper poised just behind their sockets, unable to resist the proximity of something so vulnerable and precious. He didn’t bother to try to knock it back; it liked this too. Too much to ruin it for both of them. 

He’d let it watch, it didn’t matter. 

Pleasing you would be something that would strictly fall to him. He’d make sure of that.

His eyes wandered downwards, seeing you were already visibly wet - something that sent another searing jolt through him - and there, as though a sign, the beginning bloom of red.

When he swiped his tongue brazenly up your slit, pushing into your folds, the moan you let go from your chest hit him at the same time as the unmistakable taste of blood.

He fell on you like a man starved, pulling your thighs even wider to spread you for him. He felt suddenly insatiable, taken in by your heat, the way you shivered on his tongue, and couldn’t help but cant your hips just slightly upwards to allow himself better access. 

You made a sound of surprise that turned into a hitched sigh, your thighs pushing slightly against the side of his face and his palm as though to keep him there, and he felt himself grin wickedly as he continued giving you exactly what he’d wanted to since that first encounter in the cemetery.

In the midst of the familiar human essence, the iron across his palate, there was something that left the vague impression of… sweetness. He chased it, lingering on your clit to lave the flat of his tongue there like a wave. He heard your moan twist into a whine, and he couldn’t resist the urge to echo it, his cheekbone scraping the inside of your thigh as he unashamedly lapped at your core. Your slick spreading across his mouth and further up left him wanting, and as his hands clenched at your body with need, yours fell to his hair.

He couldn’t help the moan at the feeling of your nails against his scalp, the way he was sure you didn’t realize just how hard you were pulling. He had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling back as you tugged hard, your hips pushing against his mouth for more. He didn’t know which got him to start rutting lightly against your mattress, the little licks of pain or the way he was tempted to just let you grind against his jaw until you were done with him.

“F-fuck,” you groaned, your first actual word in a while, and it came from somewhere low in your chest. This was beyond the breathy noises of a first time, what people thought the other person wanted to hear. There was a rawness as your groan became something strangled, your voice breaking, and when your heel very lightly came to rest on his back, his nails sank into your skin before he could stop himself.

“Fuck, Maxi, I’m—!” You punctuated that sentence with a keening cry as you came apart, and he held his tongue steady against your clit when your hips spasmed against his face. Your heel dug further into his back, and your hands knotted in his hair as evidence of your orgasm coated his tastebuds. He drove his own hips hard against your bed as you shuddered, already inescapably aware that he wouldn’t know peace again until he could have you making a mess on his cock too.

But this was more than enough, for now. He would’ve been happy to do this until the day he died - and then to be resurrected, at your whim, for this express eternal purpose. His name sounded so much more pleasant from your mouth, especially when you sounded on the verge of tears with sensation, your throbbing cunt indecisive as to whether it wanted more or if it couldn’t take anything else.

He only let up when he felt your fingers go slack in his hair, your foot hitting the mattress with a soft little thud. When he pushed himself up to catch his breath, you were gazing sightlessly at the ceiling, your eyes like a starless night as your own chest heaved.

The blood he could feel congealing around his mouth only exacerbated the sudden overwhelming urge he felt to cage you in his arms and never let you go again, to meet everything else that sought your attention with a murderous glare and hands that itched for cold steel.

“Mine,” the Reaper hissed in the back of his skull, and for once, he had found himself in total agreement.

- Fuck. This wasn’t working. If even open wounds weren’t enough to dull the heat he felt spreading through his veins, he didn’t know what would. “Christ, M’sorry,” he muttered sheepishly to the woman on his table, hastily throwing down the clay knife as it felt like his skin was going to combust inside his protective gear. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I’ll fix everythin’, I swear I’ll make it up to you, I’m—“ He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he pulled the sheet over Mrs. Berthelot-Yang for her dignity’s sake, then bolted out the door of the prep room towards the door to the hearse’s loading bay. 

A full-throated peal of laughter rang out as he left, echoing off the stainless steel on the walls.

He slammed through the exit door, barely noticing the pouring afternoon rain as he scrabbled free of his gloves first, ripping the black latex in the process, before yanking off the splash guard and tossing it over his shoulder and back inside. He was already panting as he ditched the mask underneath, then clawed off the protective coat over his dark scrubs and throwing it behind him as well. Only then did he let himself lean over to put his hands on his knees, letting the somehow still warm rain run through his hair and over his face as he tried to figure out how to deal with the throbbing ache that drove him to literal distraction. If work wouldn’t do it - especially a hard restoration like this one - he wasn’t left with a lot of options.

One tempted him in particular. One he’d been trying to avoid, to be honest. It wasn’t something he liked to do, and it was definitely something he didn’t want to get in the habit of doing whenever a… similar situation occurred.

But as evening loomed on the edges of the afternoon, he couldn’t see himself with a lot of other options.

If he wasn’t in such a state, he would’ve admitted to himself that it was probably troubling how he could’ve made the drive to your house blindfolded by now. How it was probably even more troubling that there was starting to be a spot in the bushes in the empty lot, just down the street from your place, where he hid the old Mustang. Or how he’d already had a change of clothes in the back seat for just such an occasion, and he stripped out of his wet scrubs making as little eye contact as possible with the smugly smirking figure of his uncle in the rearview mirror.

He followed the little not-path that was starting to form between the lot and the old oak trees that encircled your house, carefully ducking as needed to avoid any sight lines to the neighbor’s place across the street, avoiding the thorn bushes he’d learned were there the hard way, and carefully stepping around what rodent warrens he’d come across -

And at last, ended up exactly outside your bedroom window.

Your light was on, but your curtains were closed. He checked his phone, scrolling to his last text message from you - before lunch, if he remembered correctly. Amidst a flurry of bad jokes and some random dancing skeleton .gifs, you’d told him you had been feeling kind of gross today, and were planning on taking it easy.

So you were definitely home, then.

He peered through the small crack he could find in your blackout curtains, scanning your room and finding it still charmingly messy, but blessedly empty. Your bedcovers were rumpled, but there was no sign of you.

He hadn’t seen any light from your front windows when he’d driven by, though - so you weren’t watching TV on your couch. But where were you, then, if not here?

Slowly, he cracked the window, listening to what sounds he could catch so he could try to tell. Sure enough, he heard strains of music, loud, but distant - further in the house. 

So no headache then, he thought with a touch of cheer. Good, you always seemed so miserable when you had one of those. You were endlessly restless on your mattress when you were, like you could never get comfortable.

He took the faraway music as his cue to crack the window wide enough to slide in, bending over to fit through in as little space as possible. It was a careful step over the window seat (something he was rather envious of, if he was honest) to your carpeted bedroom floor, and he immediately removed his shoes, not wanting to track any dirt — both out of respect for your space, and his own desire to remain hidden. 

From there, he dropped into a crouch to hide behind the silhouette of your bed in the middle of the room, carefully lowering the window as he himself sank to the floor. Once he was sure it was secure, he fell over on his side and rolled in one motion under your bed -

And came to a stop right before he ran face-first into your box of clean bedsheets. Perfect, he noted, you hadn’t moved anything in the few days since he’d been by. He’d carefully arranged everything under your bed so he was concealed from the vantage of the doorway, but had enough room to stretch comfortably and avoid a dreaded leg cramp. There was even just enough space to stash his shoes down by his feet, safely out of sight and nowhere where they could leave a mess.

He curled into his familiar space, resting his head on the hoodie you’d left down here once the weather had turned warm. He wasn’t even sure if you’d noticed it gradually sliding off your bed - genuinely, without any manipulations on his part - but after multiple nights of being tossed about in your fitful slumber, it had finally hit the floor when you’d rolled over, and he’d snatched it up immediately to repurpose it for himself. 

It was an old lesson he’d learned early: never waste a good opportunity. Not only did it make lying here easier, it had the lovely bonus of smelling like your soap, too.

…But that scent was a little stronger than usual, if he wasn’t mistaken. He sniffed your hoodie again, confused - it wasn’t like you’d found it to wash it, recently. When that wasn’t it, he kept still, trying to figure out what was happening to create this change. Your room wasn’t a place that changed drastically, and definitely not under your bed, so anything that caught his notice was definitely worth assessing as a potential hazard.

However, it took him all of a minute to realize the music he’d heard was coming from your bathroom, accompanied by the sound of water rushing through the pipes in your walls. You were just having a shower. Was it cramps, then? Heat might relieve those, or it could just be general exhaustion. Bodies were tricky things when they were alive; he’d just have to wait and see what was ailing you.

He took a moment in the stillness to pull his phone out of his pocket and turn off vibrations along with sound, putting it completely on mute. He couldn’t risk him responding to one of your texts giving him away - wouldn’t that just be awkward.

As he did so, he caught another layer of sound amidst the water and the music, and he froze in place instinctively, trying to identify it. It was a voice — yours, he realized.

After another moment still, he realized you were singing.

His heart was fit to burst; he’d never heard you sing before. It wasn’t professional, by any means, but it was just so… adorable. Genuine. You were no songbird, but neither was he. And he would’ve listened to this for hours, just to hear you sound so happy and at peace.

The song itself was familiar too, although the instruments weren’t quite right - a cover, maybe? He scooted as close to the far side of your bed as he dared, trying to make out the lyrics through the wall and the water. You’d stopped singing, your part apparently ended, and the voice had changed:

“—Sing once again with me,

Our strange duet...”

Maxi sat bolt upright in his excitement - or tried to, before he smacked his forehead hard into your bed frame. He immediately lay back down, cursing himself quietly and touching the tender spot that he was sure was going to bruise. Pulling his fingertips away, he was grateful not to see any blood, at least. But he was definitely going to have to not slick his hair back for a little bit, lest he attract unwanted attention.

But you rather liked it when he did that, he remembered you saying so. He squirmed a little where he lay at the idea of your fingers running through his hair, playing with it, the ache in him only slightly assuaged by being so close to you (after being tempered somewhat by having to walk through the rain in the growing dark, on top of that).

But the song was definitely a Phantom cover. He was surprised it had taken him so long to place it, but he was willing to chalk it up to the water and the less-than-spectacular acoustics of being stuffed under your bed. But it had just gotten to Christine’s part again, and he could hear you trying to keep up as she swept into her grand finale. You were admittedly nowhere near the singer’s range, but it was obvious you were having fun. When her final note sounded, he could hear you laughing at your own attempt to match it that came out more of a squeak at the end, and he thought his heart would melt out his mouth and dribble all over your floor. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought to ask you if you liked the show, when he knew the two of you had discussed the book before. He was already reaching for his phone to google when the next touring company would be in town when he heard the water shut off.

He froze even though you were still in the next room, listening hard. You’d turned the music down as well, the playlist having shuffled to something else - another singer he liked, he noticed with glee, making a note to ask you about it later - and he could still hear you faintly through the walls, singing at a much more subdued level to match the quieter melody. 

He heard the clattering of your various skincare products as you moved around, before the music moved as well, leaking into the hall as you opened the door and stepped back into your room. 

Only wearing a huge t-shirt and (he could barely glimpse them) a pair of underwear, you seemed to move on a cloud of steam and something sweet. The whole room was filled with the scent of your favorite products now, and he relished being able to just lay there and drink it in.

He watched your bare feet pad around your room, your nails freshly painted your favorite color, and surmised you must have been trying to treat yourself to a spa day. You had said you’d been feeling less than your best, so this might have been your way of trying to take care of yourself. 

He had to resist the urge to check the date, make a note for next time - he knew he was weird, sure, but there were lines even he was willing to respect. He’d have to trust you to tell him if you wanted his assistance with… something like this. He could respect your discretion if that wasn’t the case; your relationship with your body was your own.

But still. He’d at least make sure to ‘just happen to have’ some extra of your favorite snacks in his kitchen. It wouldn’t stand out too much, he supposed.

At last, you fell over onto your bed, and he heard you sigh contentedly as you relaxed onto your mattress. He resisted the urge to echo it aloud, instead just stretching out as much as he could manage to pretend he was resting alongside you. This wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely better than trying to white-knuckle through things at the Mortuary alone. At least you were here. At least the overwhelming feeling of… everything, had subsided somewhat now that he was with you.

He heard something move from your nightstand, and a moment later, he saw an empty wine glass come into view as you set it on the floor. You stayed leaning off your mattress, opening the door to your nightstand, and he moved backwards as much as he dared, trying to make sure you wouldn’t happen to notice him if you happened to glance underneath your bed. But you seemed fixated on whatever was in the cabinet. He couldn’t help but be a little curious -- he hadn’t gotten to see what you’d kept in there before, and it wasn’t like he had the opportunity to ask when he was here last night.

He heard your impatient sigh, then you moving to the right side of your mattress before settling your feet back onto the floor. A moment later, his heart - previously melted - resolidified and jumped into his throat as he saw your knees follow suit, and you were crouched in front of the cabinet you were still digging through.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. There was no excuse for being under here, especially this early on, and double especially since you didn’t Know. 

He held his breath without realizing, pulling as slowly into himself as he could manage. It wasn’t like you had a direct line of sight under here, but it also wasn’t like you wouldn’t see him as soon as you bothered to look.

He had no deity or entity to pray to for this: the good ones wouldn’t dare grant his request, and he didn’t need the bad ones knowing how he felt about you. So he just held his breath and hoped, watching you rifle through a collection of —

…Oh. 

He watched you set what was very definitely a vibrator on your lap, then a second toy: long, made of dark silicone, it looked like. You picked up and held a couple similar ones of different sizes after that, clearly trying to decide something between them.

He knew he would’ve been scarlet if anyone could see him, the ache from earlier returning tenfold in an instant. So that’s what you kept in there. How… educational. 

You were holding the dildo in your hands, and he felt one of his own slide up to cover his mouth, while the other slid a touch more… south. 

Your fingers were perfect, and once again, he found himself wishing you would touch him now, as you had last night.

…In very different circumstances than right now, obviously. But still.

You were tracing the shaft with your thumb, humming thoughtfully to yourself. “Close enough,” you mumbled. “Or close as I’m going to get, anyway.” He heard you laugh to yourself, sounding a little embarrassed. “Yeah, super normal date conversation. ’Hi, Maxi, maybe-strange request, but can I just measure your dick for a sec? Why? Oh, y’know, just wanted to commission something custom off the internet so I could fuck myself stupid while thinking about you, even though we’ve only been going out for a month, no big deal.’ God, I’m such a fucking weirdo,“ Your laugh sounded somewhere between ruefully amused and mortified.

Maxi’s fingers dug into his cheeks as his palm clamped hard over his mouth, barely cognizant of possibly earning another bruise. His brain felt like it was on fire, his sweats suddenly uncomfortably, impossibly tight. 

You… what? You were doing what? Regularly enough that you wanted a what?

If he could’ve moved either of his hands, he would’ve pinched himself to make sure this was real, and not some pleasant fever dream from accidentally huffing embalming fluid again. But one remained firmly latched onto his face, determined not to give himself away and ruin this, while the other was already desperately rubbing over his cock straining hard against his clothes.

You pulled out a bottle of lube before you closed the cabinet, disappearing back up onto your bed. He like a fox would track a rabbit, aware of every little slip of your skin against fabric, every slight motion of your legs — 

Then the familiar sound of your gasp, soft and fluttering. Unexaggerated, wholly yours. 

You writhed on the mattress directly over him, and he could tell you were just warming yourself up. His face seared against his palm as he heard the growing sound of your wetness, you moaning quietly as you touched yourself, trying to relax.

Slowly, his left hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats, finding a slickness of his own already leaking from his sensitive tip. He bit down slightly on his right hand, determined not to make a sound as he spread it with a painful slowness over his shaft. As much as he dared, he tried to match the pattern of your movements, wishing it was him with you for real — as much as he was deathly curious about the version of him with you in your head.

He heard a quiet, choked sound from you not long at all after: a muffled moan, you biting your lip as you brought yourself to your first orgasm. You let out an unsteady exhale, and he heard you adjust, reaching for something you’d set down on the other side of your bed. 

He had to hold his left hand still as he heard the pop of the plastic cap on the lube, the further hushed sounds of you spreading it along the proxy shaft, before finally you fell back again with a soft ‘thud’.

“Okay,” you murmured quietly to yourself. “Let’s see if I can manage not to totally embarrass myself with another person.”

Maxi was all too aware of his physical body being anchored to the floor, resisting the aching urge to crawl out of the dark and onto your mattress to kiss those fears away. He could never find you wanting, not in a million years, he could prove it to you right now if you just knew he was there, if it wouldn’t scare you —

But behind his eye sockets, he was aware of something looming: a dark, preening arrogance that he couldn’t totally separate from himself. You thought you couldn’t take him.

The Reaper wanted to see you struggle to try, shy and flustered, to see the embarrassed tears that might result if you couldn’t, to feel your body strain and writhe against him because you just couldn’t keep his shaft in you.

The part of his brain that was still wholly his wanted to soothe any such tears, reassure you with coos and murmurs about just how good you were, how well you were doing. It didn’t matter if you needed time, or if you just couldn’t, he’d still be satisfied just to be near you; didn’t you know he’d do anything for you, just to make you feel good? Like you made him feel without even touching him?

 But there was the tiniest part of him that wanted to lick those tears rather than kiss them away, and savor them instead.

His train of thought was entirely interrupted by your sudden gasp, and your quiet groan. “Fuck,” you whimpered, and he could hear you writhing slightly, your feet sliding as you struggled to get comfortable. “Fuck, okay. Okay, it’s fine, I just need…” He heard your head hit the pillow with a sigh, and his body was a taut exposed wire.

He couldn’t help but fractionally tighten his grip on himself as he heard you panting softly, making a small, muffled noise as he heard you try to take the toy deeper, accompanied by the occasional slick sound of something moving in you. He felt his cock twitch in his hand at the noise, wishing desperately that you were adjusting around him instead.

A breathy whisper of his name sang across his nerves like a bow over strings, followed by a quiet whine. “I’m trying,” you pleaded to the imaginary version of him with you, already sounding a little frayed and overwhelmed. “You’re just… a lot.”

Christ, you really were going to kill him. Carefully, painstakingly, he timed the movements of his hand over his cock to what he could make out from the sounds of yours - his hand hoping to even slightly capture the way you would squeeze around him, the achingly slow pace of pushing into you and pulling out again, trying to offer you some relief while still trying to satisfy gnawing need building at the base of his spine.

“I can,” you murmured to him and not-him, your voice shaking a little. “I can, I promise, just… I need a minute.” He heard a groan muffled by you biting your lip, trying to push the toy further. “There’s just so much of you, Maxi.”

He bit his own lip so hard it could bleed, trying his damnedest not to react to that out loud. You thought he was a lot. You’d seen him — you’d had him in your mouth, for christ’s sake, so it’s not like you were exaggerating, but still. You were already anticipating not only fucking him, but wanting to take him fully, and in that moment he thought his own anticipation might burn through his skin from the inside out. He wanted to be in you, for real, now.

Then he heard a soft cry, followed by another thud of your head against your pillow, the scrabbling of your feet against your sheets as your back arched. “There,” you moaned, and his eyes threatened to roll back in his skull yet again. “See? I- oh, fuck, I told you I could.”

And then, slowly, he heard you begin to fuck yourself in earnest.

He bit fully down onto his own palm, matching your pace now, hoping your own slick sounds and now-desperate whines would cover the sounds of him trying to jerk himself off as silently as possible. He wanted to be on you, his chest pressed against yours, feeling your sweat and your heart racing under your bones and your warm panting on his neck as he fucked you properly, gave you everything you were begging for just a foot away. He wanted to pin you down and fuck you until you forgot your own name, until he only knew his own from the way it fell off your lips and onto his. He felt your pace pick up in his own grip as you got closer, and the way his whole body tightened, he desperately wanted to fill you with his own cum, to feel it slide down your thighs as he stubbornly fucked it into you, just to know that you wanted him inside you.

“Please, please, Maxi, don’t stop,” you whined above him, and he tasted his own blood as his teeth finally split the skin of his hand. He wished it was your neck, your shoulder, those lips of yours -- he’d kiss it better in a second, he’d apologize immediately for marking your precious skin, but he was so hungry to feel you with him, for real, that he longed for even the warmth of your wounds on his mouth.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore of this, the closest thing to heaven and hell at the same time, he heard you come with a last cracked moan of his name. He shattered immediately, spilling his own load from a day of obsessing over and repressing the memories of you inside his clothes, and utterly ruining them in the process. He flushed even more furiously, the heat spreading down his chest from both the ecstasy of relief at last, and embarrassment for coming in his pants like a freshman. He fucked into his hand while he listened to your panting until he went fully soft, bordering on the ache of overstimulation but trying to satisfy the gaping hole that came from not actually being able to pull you against him, to descend together in each other’s tangled, sweaty limbs.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there in silence - you still trying to catch your breath, him still biting into the flesh of his hand, not trusting himself not to moan the minute he pulled it away. He wanted to kiss you, to tell you that you were perfect, that you took him like you were made for him - or that you would, when the time was right, he was sure of it. But not until you were feeling better, not until you wanted to, until you chose.

“…Holy fuck,” you mumbled above him, sounding somewhat hazy, and he instead had to fight his usual giggle-snort. How were you this cute, he wondered, it wasn’t even fair.

He heard you shift slowly, reaching for something else on your nightstand; he winced, secretly hoping it wasn’t the lube again. After a long day of agony, he wasn’t sure he could go another round as enthusiastically as you.

But instead, he heard a muted, familiar tapping. In his scattered haze, it took him a minute to place it — until he saw your arm dangling over the side of your mattress, your phone still clutched in your hand as you waited for a text to send.

He caught his name on the screen before you pulled your arm up again, and hurriedly, he rummaged in his pocket to pull out his own just as the notification of a new message appeared.

<[Thinking of you, handsome <3 Hope work isn’t giving you too much trouble today?]

That you were texting him immediately and so innocuously, after vividly imagining him fucking you senseless, made his insides twist again and the flush return to his skin. Did you do this often? His head spun from the idea; how many messages had he read that he’d thought were only sweet little missives, while you were actually glistening and debauched? 

Maxi released his palm from his teeth a centimeter of skin at a time, bringing up his second hand to write back only when he was sure he wouldn’t moan aloud. What could he even say?

[Aw, miss you pretty. <3 Work’s been… work haha. Feeling better?]>

That was as close as he could think to summarizing the situation, anyway. And he was reasonably sure ‘hey look down here :)’ wouldn’t be very well received, even if he was starting to become aware of your own more… interesting tendencies. 

He glanced up at the bottom of your mattress as he waited for his own message to send, pondering this. He knew the two of you were still in the early stages, but he was now deeply curious what other strange urges you were hiding in that sweet little head of yours. Besides apparently liking his dick enough to want a memento of your own - something that, if he wasn’t already still flushed, would’ve made him turn scarlet all over again. He was awash in heat from the tips of his ears to his navel, at this rate.

He heard your phone buzz, and his heart leapt at your quiet little excited noise. He heard you roll over on your mattress and was half-tempted to peek and see if you were kicking your feet in the air, as much as you made him want to do the same. But he resisted and kept himself out of sight.

A second of fast typing later, your response appeared:

<[So much better omg. Sorry about work though :/ Do you maybe want to hang out tomorrow? We could watch a bad movie and drink about it.]

‘Yes!!,’ Maxi sent immediately. He winced at his own eagerness, then quickly added:

[Whenever works for you, if you feel up to it! No pressure if you start feeling bad again.]>

He heard you roll back over onto your back, giggling to yourself. He restrained a sigh of relief. At least you thought he was cute, and not desperate.

Another response popped up on his screen:

<[Oh I’m definitely better, no worries. <3 My place, maybe seven-ish if that’s okay?]

And then, as he was typing a confirmation, another:

<[And don’t sweat needing to drive home or anything btw. I have a spare toothbrush and stuff lol]

Maxi resisted the urge to punch the air, both because it would send his fist straight into your box spring, and because he was far too old for doing that without feeling ridiculous. But he definitely wanted to, in the moment.

[Haha sure. I’ll see you then angel <3]>

You didn’t need to know he’d loved everything he’d seen so far.

Or at least, he would tell you later. 

Much later.

if you've read this far, I hope your next date is also really into musicals (positive) <3

[fightme365]

They won't let you talk to their RSA opposites. (Poly! Twisted Wonderland x Non-binary! Reader part 2)

Leona & Malleus: Y/n was curious when they heard RSA students would be coming to visit NRC. They were told they were the hero counter parts of NRC. They wondered what that meant as wandered towards Diasomnia to visit their favorite Dragon, Malleus Draconia. They had been spending lots of time with Leona and Malleus since they meet them.

When they arrived though they heard Leona yelling at someone. It was his normal affectionate yelling at Malleus either. It was pure furious rage yelling. "Leave us the fuck alone, Simon. I want to nap on Malleus' thighs until the herbivore shows us to entertain us. Not talk to you, Simon. Go the fuck away and take your weird blonde boyfriend with boyfriend with you.", screams Leona.

This concerned Y/n greatly especially when they heard Malleus speak in a calmer tone, "Yes, I agree with Leona. You and Auro should leave before our child of man arrives." Y/n enter the area and waves at Malleus and Leona.

With their two crushes is a red haired lion person and a blonde human. Leona and Malleus look at Y/n and then back to the duo in front of them. The red head continues to speak to Leona. "Oh, come on cousin. It's not like were gonna steal your gi...", the red head.

"They're not a girl, Simon. They're non-binary and we are not dating them.", says Leona. "Well were not trying to steal them from you and there should be no problem.", says the red head.

"Simon, we just want to be alone with them. Do you understand?", says Leona. "Yes, but...", says the red head. "Then go so we may woo the child of man.", says Malleus.

"Simon, let's just go. We're ruining their wooing.", says the blonde. The red head and blonde turn around and see Y/n for the first time. The red head smiles and tries to talk to them but the blonde drags him with a small smile and a sorry.

Jamil & Kalim: Y/n was leading to lost RSA students Scarbia to visit their cousins. They meant to go to Scarbia but some how ended up at Ramshackle. One was a red head related to Jamil named Lego and one was a black haired guy related to Kalim named Jaseem. Both seemed nice. However when they reached Scarbia neither Jamil or Kalim were happy to see them though they tried hard to hide it.

Jamil asked them to go grab something for him from his bedroom. Y/n went and grabbed the object but when they returned to the front hall Y/n the four of them talking. "Leave them alone, Lego. There a special person and your not going to ruin that for us.", hisses Jamil.

Y/n hears Lego laugh. "We're not trying to. Your just jealous, cousin. You shouldn't be though. They like you. I can tell. I see it their eyes, Jamil.", says Lego.

"Ahh, it's not like that. We're just friends.", hisses Jamil. "I thought you said we're ask them...", starts Kalim but Jamil interrupts them.

"Shush, my prince. They might hear.", says Jamil. "Who might hear?", says Kalim.

"They mean Y/n might hear, cousin. He thinks they might not like you if you ask to soon. Which is wrong. They do.", says Jaseem.

"Shh, you don't know that. They could be listening. You two need to go.", says Jamil. "Fine, we're leaving. Come on, Jaseem.", says Lego. Y/n hears a door open and close a minute later. They smile and open the door.

Jamil & Azul: Y/n noticed Azul's eye start twitching as soon as the two red heads in RSA uniforms entered the Monstro Longue. The paler red heads eyes lit up and he be lined for Azul. "Azul, you've lost so much weight. I barely recognize you. You look good. Do you remember me? It's Rielle.", the pale red head.

The other red head head for Jamil who was hanging at the bar with Jade. "Hello, cousin.", says the tanned red head. Jamil sighs.

"Hello, Lego.", says Jamil. Y/n was curious and hovered nearby cleaning the bar. Lego notices.

"Who is this lovely beauty?", says Lego as he grabs Y/n hand. "Let go of them.", shouts both Azul and Jamil. Y/n jumps away surprise.

Azul looks at Y/n. "Y/n can you get my phone from office for me? I need to talk to Rielle so I can't get it.", says Azul with a smile.

"Of course, boss man.", says Y/n. Y/n leaves the room but doesn't go to the office. They stand just in the hallway listening.

"You two both need to leave Y/n alone. They're ours.", hisses Azul. "Ooo, someone is jelly.", says Rielle.

"We are not.", says Jamil. Lego and Rielle laugh. "Yes, you are. You both are. You like them. Can't blame you. They're a total hottie.", says Lego.

"Get out of here. Both of you. Your band.", says Azul.

"Fine. Fine. We'll go for now. However well have to catch up later.", says Rielle. Y/n hears a door open and close and then goes to Azul's office.

Jack & Epel: Y/n walked towards Pomefiore where they had agreed to meet Jack and Epel for lunch when they heard Epel shouting. "You both need to go. They'll be here soon. We can't have them see you.", yells Epel.

"Awe, you don't want your boo to see us? That's cute. Your afraid they'll like us more. Ow, Neige. What the hell?", says a strange voice.

"Leave them alone. Your teasing isn't helping their nerves.", says another unfamiliar voice. Y/n looks into the clearing to see Jack and Epel with two RSA students. They we're good looking but not as good looking as Epel and Jack.

"Shut up and just leave.", yells Epel with a very red face. "Oh, come one. I was just joking. We don't want your boo. There all yours.", says of the RSA students with a pout.

Jack sighs and says, "Will you two please just go? We want to be alone with Y/n." "Yes. Come on, Reed.", says the other RSA student grabbing the first and dragging him away as he protests.

[nonbinairyboi]

Nothing Left: Chapter 18

Chapter Summary: You try to navigate your relationships after Joel’s words.

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I’ve been drawing a lot of Din lately for a project so go check that out if you’re interested because I’m kind of proud of them. I’m thinkkkkkking of having a Joel POV next chapter. Anyway, Happy Pride, y’all!

Series Masterlist (w/ASL) | Playlist | Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Reference to death of a partner. Panic attack. Angst. Very mild violence?

Previous Chapter

Chapter 18

“What the hell am I supposed to do with someone like that? Can’t even communicate. It’s like talking to a brick wall. Don’t need any of that - mess.”

The words echoed in your brain as you lay in bed, willing yourself to fall asleep.

All the possibilities of even harsher things that people could be saying behind your back rushed through your head, making you feel dizzy. A weight was laying across your chest, unseen but pushing you down, fighting to keep your lungs from expanding. As your breath came in short bursts, you could feel the out-of-rhythm thunk of your heart, beating its fists on the inside of your breastbone. Heat crawled up your arms, climbing your neck and overtaking your face. In a sudden jerk of frustration, shame, and anger, your hand flew over your mouth as you let out a low, guttural scream, muffled as you sunk your teeth into your hand briefly.

A forgotten memory fought its way to the front of your mind.

Your apartment in the QZ was pitch black as you rocked Drea in your arms, squeezing your eyes shut and praying she would stay asleep. Tears of exhaustion sprang to your eyes. It had been a week since you saw her body. The love of your life only recognizable by the tattoo on her wrist, her face obscured. A week of feeling alone, of going through the motions to ensure Drea was still cared for. You had to bring her to your shift today, a makeshift sling holding her to you as you swept the streets.

She had been fussy all day, and you feared that you were doing something wrong, that you were missing obvious signs of something. You looked down to the little life on your arms. Her cheeks weren’t as pudgy as a babies should be. Babies should have rolls of fat and cheeks that you couldn’t help but squeeze. Drea looked so small.

You had failed. Grace was dead. You were probably killing Drea because you were doing everything wrong.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed as you tried to catch your breath, suddenly aware of every flaw you’d ever had. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest. Unable to catch your breath and scared you would hurt Drea, you stumbled a step backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed, lowering yourself to sit and then slowly laying back, a now sleeping Drea still cradled to your chest. As you stared up at where you knew the ceiling was through the darkness, Drea’s weight sunk into your chest. The very real weight now on your chest soothed you, slowing your heart rate and somehow making it easier to breathe. Your hand absentmindedly stroked the hair on your baby’s head, calming yourself in the knowledge that she was still here, still with you.

The realization that you were clutching your chest wrenched you back to the present. There was no real weight on your chest. Drea was gone too. The invisible weight leaned into you harder, your hands turning to claws as they scratched you involuntarily, a sob forcing its way out of your throat.

You lay there crying a long time, silent in your grief with your mouth open, curled on your side.

“Mess.”

The word shook you awake, a jolt running through your body as your eyes flew open. Sitting up quickly, you looked around for the source of the noise.

A distinct shame and pain, leftover from a dream whose plot you already felt slipping through your fingers, stabbed into your side, ringing in your ears.

You inhaled through your nose quickly, forcing air into your lungs.

You were alone. No one else was here.

That should have been a calming thought, and it was, momentarily. But then it repeated.

You were alone.

Alone.

A bone-deep chill crept in from your poorly-sealed window.

You threw yourself into work again over the next few weeks finding endless tasks to occupy you until your body couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep at the end of the day. Ellie came around a few times, but you always made sure to make an excuse to have her head home before dinner to minimize interaction with Joel.

The last few days, Joel had been ‘running into you’ a suspicious number of times and you brushed him off the best you could each time. You could feel his confusion, but felt little sympathy for him. Though your chest ached when he brushed up next to you in the dining hall, you quickly got up to go, complaining of a headache.

An unexpected frost swept through Jackson at the end of March, forcing many to spend extra hours trying to save some plants in one of the greenhouses after a panel of glass somehow broke. You didn’t get back until almost midnight, the tips of your fingers swollen and stiff with the cold as you fell into bed.

Hazy images drifted through your dreams, memories of your time alone on the road, of the times you wish you could have been alone.

Consciousness found you slowly, hands of ice gliding up your arms before gripping tight.

Your body was inexplicably moving, and it took your brain a moment to realize that it was because you were shivering violently. Sitting up, you wrapped a blanket around yourself, placing your bare feet on the ground before hissing at the sensation of the cold floor beneath you.

The thermostat stared back, mocking you. It was set to 68, but somehow, the temperature of the room was reading 52.

Frustrated and uncomfortable, you bundled yourself up and set out for Maria’s. Your knuckles ached as you knocked on her door, quickly stuffing your hands back into your pockets. You waited about 20 seconds, rocking on your feet in a futile attempt to keep warm. When the door finally opened, you were surprised to find Joel, whose face seemed to mirror yours in poorly concealed shock.

“Looks like you’re freezing out there.” Joel remarked. “Come in before you let the heat out.”

You slipped into the house, shaken by the unexpected encounter but trying to recenter yourself.

‘Where’s Maria?’ You signed, hoping to avoid any time alone with Joel.

“Kitchen. With Tommy.” He replied.

You nodded and turned towards the kitchen, but a hand on your arm pulled you back lightly.

“Hey.” Joel said softly, turning you towards him. “You okay?”

You searched his eyes, finding what you read as genuine concern, which floored you. Had you heard wrong? Or was he really that good of a liar? Why was he going through all this trouble to act like he cared?

Just as you began to doubt your own recollection, his words echoed again in your head.

Someone like that.

Can’t even communicate.

Mess.

Your resolve hardened.

‘I’m fine’ you signed back before pulling your arm away from him and walked toward the kitchen.

Maria was happy to see you, remarking on how she had missed seeing you around lately. You made excuses for your absence, noting how busy you had been. She didn’t question you further, but you caught the concerned frown that briefly crossed her face. After explaining the heat issue at your place, Maria turned to the brothers who stood a few feet away.

“Alright, which one of you would be more comfortable around a thermostat?” She asked.

Tommy looked sheepish, pointing his thumb towards Joel.

“Joel was always better at that sort of thing.” He said.

“Tommy is just fine at it… s’long as you want it perpetually set to 78.” Joel replied, wearing a smirk.

“That was one time and at least 25 years ago!” Tommy exclaimed.

Maria shook her head at their antics as your heart sunk.

“Weather’s just supposed to get worse the next few days. Might as well come over now if you’re free.”

Feeling trapped, you numbly nodded as he grabbed his coat. Once outside, Joel shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping close to your side as you walked.

“Ellie says you’ve been too busy to come over for dinner lately.” Joel remarked after the silence had built thick around you.

‘Yeah, I’m working a lot.’ You signed, wishing that you could live the next hour in fast-forward.

The frosted ground squeaked and crunched beneath your feet. A brief memory of Grace running with you, arm in arm, giggling as you both screamed against the cold wind nipping at your faces as you rushed to get inside flitted through your mind.

You could feel your heart miss a beat as you forced the memory out of your brain.

Joel luckily seemed to sense that you weren’t in the mood for small talk as you made your way to your house.

When you stepped inside, no warmth came to relieve the sharp sting of the cold. It had somehow gotten worse since you had left. Joel nodded slightly at you before going straight to work. You busied yourself cleaning up your home to stay out of his way, eventually shutting yourself in your room.

A little while later, a soft knock came on your bedroom door. Walking over, you opened it to reveal Joel.

“S’all fixed.” He said, his eyes darting around your room. “Just let me know if you have any other issues.”

You nodded and signed a thank you to him, biting the inside of your cheek as you stood paralyzed, unsure of what to do.

Before you realized what was happening, you felt a hand cradle your face. Startled, your eyes flew to his. The tender and open look in his eyes pulled you in. It was the comfort you had been searching for in the days without him. Your body sagged, relaxing slightly as it gave-in to the pull.

His mouth found yours softly, and without thinking, you reciprocated. It felt so good to be wanted, to be held. As the kiss deepened, you lost your breath, caught in the moment. Your hands flew to his shoulders as his hands went to your lower back, pulling your body towards him.

Still lost, you continued, drinking in the uncomplicated attention that you were so desperate for. Joel’s hands began to drift, one towards your upper back while the other glided lower. With the first brush of his hand on your ass, the world jolted back into focus.

“Someone like you. A mess.” He seemed to hiss into your ear. You stopped reciprocating the kiss immediately, pulling your head away slightly as your hands moved to his chest. He misinterpreted your movements, pulling you closer, opening his mouth more fully as if he could inhale you.

A panic started in your chest and you began to pull back more fully, using your hands to shove him away. He barely moved at your effort, still pulling you towards him before something clicked in his brain. You pushed him again just as he seemed to realize what was happening, releasing you and stumbling back a few steps from your effort.

Your heart thudded in your chest, an echo of white noise roaring in your ears as you struggled to breathe normally.

Joel looked alarmed, his hands up in a placating gesture, unsure of what to do.

“Hey. Talk to me.” He said softly, those big eyes of his looking open and vulnerable again.

But he couldn’t fool you this time. You knew the trick now.

‘I can’t’ you signed, stilted.

“That’s okay.” He rushed out. “I should have asked, I’m sorry. Let’s just sit down.”

‘No. I can’t do this again. I’m sorry.’ You signed, trying to stop the shaking in your fingertips.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking uncertain.

You motioned between the two of you.

‘I can’t. It was a mistake.’

His face twisted into an expression that you couldn’t quite read and for half a second you were suddenly scared of retaliation. Why would you tell him this now, when you were fully alone with him? When had that ever gone well for you with men?

A charged silence sat between you.

“Why?” Joel asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Your face twisted. Now he was sad? Because he couldn’t get his dick wet?

Anger surged within you.

‘I don’t want to.’ You signed.

You held your breath but stood your ground as his eyes searched yours before a shadow fell over his eyes.

“Do what you want.” He said, his voice tight as he turned to leave, grabbing his coat.

He stopped and turned to you suddenly, a look of anger in his eyes.

“Is it Eugene?” He asked roughly.

Rage overtook your thoughts as you stepped towards him, lifting your hand without thinking and slapping him hard across the face. His body froze, his head tilted to the side at the force of the blow before his jaw shifted slightly. You were suddenly stock still, filled with disbelief of both what he had just said and how you had reacted.

His head slowly turned back to you. A look of something that seemed eerily like regret flashed across his face before it hardened again.

He nodded at you once with a finality that cracked something deep inside you before he turned and left, the door swinging closed behind you.

You let out your breath, your whole body deflating as tears sprung to your eyes.

Why the fuck had you opened yourself up to this?

Taglist:

@powellssaturn @silas-aeiou @thedilfdiaries

@libraryofneith

[jellalism]

Dark Schneider x Reader fic: I can be a woman for you (Erotica)

Dark Schneider rescues a damsel in distress, hoping to have sex with her. To his surprise, the person he rescued is not a damsel in the strict sense of the term. But it’s close enough to a damsel for him to stick his cock in.

Word count: 5252 words

Genre: Erotica

Characterization: Dark Schneider is a dominant top. Reader is a submissive bottom. Reader has a penis. Reader is "not a man like most people imagine one"; implied non-binary.

Content warnings: Domination/submission, verbal degradation, biting

Notes: Reader has cleaned their behind beforehand; I couldn’t be bothered letting them bathe in the story itself. There are some feminine-gendered terms used for the reader: princess, (good) girl, cunt, bitch.

Read below or on AO3.

You barely know what is happening. One moment, you’re staring at the gaping jaws of a huge wolf-like monster, certain you’re going to die; the next, you’re in the arms of a muscular, white-haired man. The violent creature is now burning brightly, disintegrating into ashes. “No one attacks a lady while the handsome magician Dark Schneider is around.” The man gazes at the fire. It burns hot; hot enough to cremate the carcass.

You take a few moments to get your bearings. You’re being bridal carried by the person who appears to be your savior, having the power to annihilate a monster in the blink of an eye. His face is quite beautiful. He has a superb jawline, highlighted by the glow of the fire. He turns his gaze towards you. “Are you alright?” Then his face is scrunched up in surprise. “Wait. Not a lady, perhaps?” He seems a little disappointed. “Dammit, I really thought… Man, can’t you just be a woman for a little while?” He brings his mouth to your ear and whispers: “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

You flush bright red and are left completely speechless. He doesn’t let up, though. He softly bites your ear.

“So? How about it?” He leans back again, so he can look you in the face. “You’re all red. I bet you really liked that, huh?” He grins seductively.

“I–” you begin, but it’s hard to speak. What is this situation?! One moment you’re within inches of death, the next you’re being courted by an—admittedly handsome—man mistaking you for a woman.

Dark sighs and lets you down. He seems to have read your surprise and confusion as rejection. “Fine. Not every man wants to get fucked in the ass. Not even by my amazing cock. I get it.” He turns around and starts to walk away.

“Wait!” You quickly grab his hand. It’s bigger than yours. As everything about him is—he’s almost two meters tall and incredibly muscular. He turns around again and looks at you. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I was just flustered. In fact, I would…” You gather your courage before speaking candidly. “I would love to feel your cock in me.” You smile shyly. “I’m not a man like most people imagine one. I can be a woman for you, if you want me to be.”

At your honest confession, a satisfied smile appears on Dark’s face. And you notice something twitch under his clothes, at the groin. Is that his…? If so, it is definitely very big. You swallow in apprehension.

“Alright then!” Since you were already holding hands, he pulls you close with one quick movement. His other hand moves around you. He grabs your behind and lifts you up again with one arm, with ease that makes it seem as if you don’t weigh anything. It elicits a gasp from you. Your head is at the perfect height to rest it on one of his broad shoulders. He brings his mouth close to your ear. “Time to get to my place. I promise you won’t regret having sex with the amazing Dark Schneider.”

You chuckle softly. “You do realize that by praising yourself, you’ve got a lot more to live up to? But…” You remember the situation you were just in. If he hadn’t been there, you’d have been dead. You were completely helpless in a situation that he solved in a fraction of a second. “I will admit you are pretty amazing, from what I’ve seen so far,” you finish softly. You wrap your arms around his torso. He still has one hand on your ass, using it to carry you while he walks quickly. His other arm wraps around your body, pulling you closer, pressing your face to his pecs. He smells just a tiny bit like sweat, though it’s muffled by other odors. There is a definite piney smell to him.

“Oh princess, you haven’t seen nothing yet.” He grins. “I will make sure that, by the end of the night, you’ll adore me as if I were a god.” He moves his wrist a little so it grinds against your genitals. You inhale sharply. He grins again. “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. But you’ll thank me for it.” He squeezes your ass.

He walks quickly, and his place is nearby, so you arrive in a matter of minutes. It’s a big, stone house, reminiscent of a fortress. It has even got battlements. You can’t help but wonder what kind of life this man lives.

“Impressed?” He looks down upon you, full of confidence. “You should be.” He kicks open the door and carries you inside. Then he closes the door behind him with another kick and carries you upstairs, into a luxurious bedroom. He throws you down on the large bed. It’s very comfortable: the mattress is neither too soft nor too hard. The blankets are a beautiful dark carmine color. You reach out your hand; it’s soft and pleasant to the touch. Moreover, the room is charmingly decorated. There is a light gray carpet and romantic lighting provided by various candles. The walls are decorated with paintings of landscapes. Not too much, but enough to make the room feel pleasantly lived in. Clearly, no expense has been spared when it comes to this chamber.

You turn your eyes back to Dark, and find that he has already removed his shirt. His torso does not disappoint. He is ripped. While you stare at him in silence, he looks down at you half lying on the bed, precisely as you landed when he threw you. “You better enjoy the view. We’ll be here for a while.” His voice sounds almost threatening.

He steps towards you, towering over you. His pecs become even more pronounced as you have to raise your head to face him. “What’s your name?”

You give him your name.

“Well then, y/n. I’m going to make you scream with pleasure.” He bends forward, leaning a knee on the bed. His face approaches yours and you suddenly feel a hand at the base of your neck, keeping you in place while he presses his lips on yours. His kiss is rough, fueled by lust. His tongue enters your mouth, fighting for dominance—and winning it, too. You feel your inhibitions loosen as you surrender to his touch. His hand slides under your shirt as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He lingers to play around with your nipple for a bit. Then he pinches it. Your face contorts and he ends the kiss to look at you sadistically. “What’s pleasure without a little pain?” He pinches it again, looking at your face with arrogant satisfaction.

“God, Dark,” you moan. He bends down a little more, placing kisses in your neck. His torso now hangs closely over yours, almost touching it. His body emanates heat; you can’t help but desire him to be closer still. The smell of his sweat has gotten a little stronger now, but it’s not overpowering. You lift your arms and grab hold of his broad shoulders. Subconsciously, you try to pull him closer.

He lifts his head from where it was buried in your neck, and the hand that was on your nipple now moves to grab your chin. “Look at me,” Dark commands as he holds your chin, pressing your head into the pillow. His long, white hair cascades down his shoulders, resting beside you. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll never want anyone else’s cock ever again. You’re gonna be my cocksleeve, and you’re going to love it. Got it?” He looks you straight in the eye with confidence that seems out of this world.

“Y-yes,” you manage to croak. Speaking is complicated not just by the way he holds you, but also by the arousing fear that he instills in you. Part of you dreads what’s to come—if he speaks the truth, you won’t be the same after he’s done with you.

“That’s ‘Yes Master’, cocksleeve.” His knee presses down in your groin painfully, making you cry out.

“Yes Master,” you gasp, and he lifts his knee.

“Good girl,” he says with an arrogant grin on his face. “Now let’s get this party started properly.” One of his hands creeps under your shirt again. He pinches one of your nipples, but doesn’t linger this time. “Lift your arms.” As soon as you obey, he roughly lifts your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. Then he sits back. You are lying on your back, while he kneels with his knees at both of your sides, at the height of your thighs. His impressive abdominals and pectorals are on full display for you, towering over you again. He licks his lips. “Now that’s a nice body you have. I’m glad I brought you home. Perhaps I won’t let you go after this.” A hint of excitement must have crossed your face, because Dark capitalizes on it. “Oh, yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Becoming my personal slut, for me to use whenever I want.” He grabs your groin and plays around with your balls through the cloth. “You’d like being dominated by me, right?” You nod nervously. “Well, I’m gonna give you what you fucking want.”

With those words, he grabs your trousers and pulls them down roughly, your underwear going with them. He slides off the bed to get them off properly. He pushes a pillow under your lower back. Then he lifts up your legs and lays them over his shoulders as he gets back on the bed. Your bottom is now completely exposed, and his hand creeps towards it. He grabs your ass, and squeezes it hard. It hurts a little, but it only turns you on further. Your already rock-hard cock twitches. “As I expected, you like feeling some pain with your pleasure. Fucking slut. I love it.” He removes his hand again and takes up a tube from the nightstand. “Lube,” he explains. “It’s impossible without it.” He puts a good amount on his fingers. Then his hand moves to your ass again. He flashes a wicked grin as his finger teases the rim of your asshole. “Gonna have to prepare you real good. My cock is pretty big, you know? But I’ll make sure that it fits.”

You glance at his groin. The bulge you saw earlier has only gotten bigger. Is that ever going to fit?!

Dark seems to read your mind. “Believe me, it’s going to fit. As long as I arouse you enough, your hole will welcome me.” At that moment, the tip of his finger enters your hole. A lewd sound escapes you. “Oh, now that’s what I like to hear. I’m gonna make sure you’ll moan much, much more like that. Until I’m satisfied. And believe me, that takes a while.” He sticks his finger in a little deeper and softly touches your prostate. Again, you involuntarily make a noise. “I love the way you are opening up to me. You’re such a good girl for me. I’ll give you a reward. I’ll keep massaging that sweet spot in you. How’s that sound?” And he immediately delivers, continuing to rub your prostate.

“Aahh, Dark!” Where your previous noises were subdued, you can’t hold in your moans anymore.

“That’s it, baby. It’s okay to make all the noise you like. In fact, once I enter you, there’s no stopping it. So you better get used to making all kinds of sounds you’ve never made before.” He moves his finger around a little, rubbing against your walls and the rim of your hole.

“Guess what?” He looks down at you, carefully, as if he wants to see every expression you make. Then, you suddenly feel him push in a second finger.

You moan in a high-pitched voice as your eyes stray upward for a bit, completely overtaken by the intense sensation.

“God, that really made you sound like a girl.” When you look back at Dark, he has his signature grin on his face. “You just made me harder still.” He grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge in his pants. It’s rock-hard, and as you touch it, it twitches. “Feel that? You turn me on so fucking much. I’m gonna have so much fun fucking you all night long.” His two fingers move in and out of your hole at a steady pace.

“Mmm… Feels so good,” you pant. It’s hard to breathe normally as the sensations wash over you.

Suddenly, he plunges in deeper. You breathe in sharply. The way his fingers move around in your ass is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He moves his digits apart, scissoring your hole. “Feeling good, huh? In a little while, my cock is going to go even deeper than this. And it’s thicker, too.” He removes his fingers from your ass. It feels like it’s gaping. “It’s not over yet, baby.” With a quick, cruel movement, he slams three of his fingers deep into you, as far as his knuckles.

You let out a little yelp. Dark slaps your buttock. “I’ll get all those sweet little sounds out of you.” He moves his fingers back and forth in you at a quick pace, making you moan over and over. It feels like you’ve lost control over your body, over your legs: you can’t move them even if you tried. He keeps his fingers a little apart at times, letting them explore the walls of your hole, opening you up further. “You’re really getting ready for me now. Just a little longer, and I’ll give you pleasure like you’ve never experienced.”

“Please… Give it to me.” Your voice cracks as you seem to be unable to control your body fully. “I need you inside me.”

Dark’s expression becomes fiercer. “I’m going to fuck you so hard. I’ll rearrange your goddamn insides.” His voice is low and threatening. It scares you, but god, it’s hot. He slowly pulls his fingers from your ass, and undoes his belt. He slides off the bed, letting your legs fall back on the mattress. He quickly removes his trousers. The bulge is even clearer now that he is only wearing underwear. You can see the outline of his cock. He removes his underwear in a swift motion, eager to get on with it.

His dick is huge. It is both long and thick, standing straight up, plastered against his abs. A vein runs over the length of the shaft, accentuating its girth. Dark has only a little pubic hair—white, just like the rest of his hair—just enough to emphasize his masculinity. His big balls are hanging low. No matter how you look at it, his body is perfect. “See, this is why I took the time to prepare you,” he laughs. It has a sadistic undertone. He knows what he is about to inflict upon you. “Your body won’t be the same after I’m done with you. I’ll change the shape of your cunt so it will perfectly fit my fat cock.” He grabs some of the lube again and liberally covers his cock in it, giving it a few good strokes.

You lift your legs again, exposing your hole. “Take me, Master.”

He licks his lips and makes his way towards you. “I will.” His voice is low and full of lust. He sets his knees on the bed, and crawls over to you like a ravenous wolf about to devour its prey. He slams his arms next to your chest, leaning over you. Then he brings his mouth to your ear. “I’ll fucking ravage you.” Next thing you know, he softly bites your ear, eliciting a surprised hiss from you.

He moves back slightly, still leaning on one hand but using the other to guide his penis to your impatient ass. The tip of his dick rubs against the rim. You bite your lip, struggling to contain your excitement.

“Tell me what you want.”

You are completely in his power. He, with his perfectly sculpted body—beautiful hair, astonishing muscles and impressive, almost intimidating genitals—is gazing down at you arrogantly, knowing he drives you crazy with desire. And he wants to hear you beg.

“Y-your cock,” you stammer. “You’re the hottest person I’ve ever met, a-and I’ve never been this horny. I want you so b-badly. I want you to fuck me. Use me however you like. I adore the idea of being in your—” Your sentence gets cut short as Dark pushes the head of his cock in, making you gasp for air.

“Good slut. I’ll give you all that you wanted, and more.”

“Y-yes, Master! Yes!” you moan as he slowly pushes his thick penis further in. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before; the way his length touches all your walls and the way you feel completely dominated. “S’good.” Your voice is breathy; you can’t seem to find the strength to speak normally.

“It’s only gonna get better,” Dark whispers. He moves his cock back a little before pushing forwards again. “I’m not even halfway in yet.” At that, you make a small sound. “That’s right, baby. Your ass won’t ever forget this night,” he says with a smirk.

He moves back again, and forwards—always taking his sweet time.

“You know, my body doesn’t just look good. I have the stamina of a wolf. I love taking my time in making both of us feel amazing. We’ll be here for quite a few hours.”

“Let’s fuck until morning,” you whisper, adoration in your eyes. You feel his cock twitch inside you.

“That’s what I like to hear!” His voice is strong; loud, even. After all his lewd whispers and horny words, the volume of this sentence feels like the start of something new. And it is. You feel him push his cock further in. “You feel that, cunt? That’s the cock of the mighty Dark Schneider in you.”

You moan loudly. His fat cock rubs against your prostate, but also goes beyond it, deeper. Deeper than his fingers ever went. It makes you feel strange inside. You can feel his every movement, every twitch of his length.

“Yeah, eat it up, bitch. Your ass is so hungry.”

“Oh my g-god…,” you groan. “S-so… big…”

Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain on your thigh. Dark slapped you. “Don’t give up on me now. I still haven’t bottomed out. And remember what I promised you.” He leans forward threateningly and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I said I’d make sure it fits inside you.” He places his hands next to you, enclosing you in between. “But let’s take it slow, right? Wouldn’t want my slutty princess to suffer. Not too much, anyway.”

“Master,” you whimper. His large body hangs over you, his chest close to yours. You feel the heat from his arms at your sides.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. “Not gonna lie, you’re still pretty tight.” He moves his cock back again. And forwards. Slowly, but inexorably; this man is the closest thing to an unstoppable force that physics shall ever know. You feel his power in every one of his movements. Back and forth. “Mmm, yeah, that’s better. Your ass is starting to get used to my tool, isn’t it?”

In between pants, you manage to answer him. “Yes, Master.”

He chuckles softly. “Already feeling overwhelmed, huh? But we’ve still got the night ahead of us, babe.” He pushes forward again. His cock goes in deeper still, making you moan loudly. “See, you can take it. Just a few more times back and forth and you’ll have taken my entire cock inside you.” He keeps moving slowly, each time going a little further. Each time, you moan in pleasure. Thanks to his careful prepping and slow pace, it doesn’t hurt at all.

Dark lets out a grunt as he pushes in his cock fully, his big balls tickling your buttocks. For a few moments, you can’t make a sound; you can barely breathe. Then, you gasp for air, trying to take in the intense, awesome sensations. You look up to see Dark’s arrogant grin. “See? Told you you could take it,” he whispers. Then, his face moves closer and he kisses you on the mouth. His chest is on yours—he’s letting his weight crush you as his cock twitches in your ass. His tongue enters your mouth, full of desire to make you all his. He explores every part of it. His tongue is aggressive, fighting with yours and winning with ease; it’s a dominant kiss.

Finally, he moves his lips away from you for a bit, and you gasp for air again—with limited success, as his heavy weight on top of you makes it hard to fill your lungs. “You’re my personal fucktoy now. Got that, y/n?” He moves his lower body, causing his cock to stir inside your hole. It feels as if he moves all your insides around.

“Mm-mm,” you say with a nod.

“Good girl,” he says with a satisfied smile. His hands run up your arms, to your wrists. Then he raises them above your head and pins them to the mattress. It feels as if his fingers are made of steel; there’s no escaping his grip. Not that you want to escape. “Let’s continue.” He slowly raises his core, making his large member move back, before slowly pressing down again, deep inside you. As he presses his thick dick deep into you, you breathe out deeply, as though all the air is being fucked out of you. His chest remains close to yours; it’s as if his body is enclosing you. It feels like every part of you touches a part of him. You’ve long since wrapped your legs around him, feeling his muscular thighs and buttocks as he moves his cock inside of you.

“God, you look like you’re in heaven.” Dark seems to be amused. “Tell me. How does it feel to be fucked by Dark Schneider? To be fucked by your master?”

“Feels… so good… Master,” you pant. At that moment, he presses his cock deep inside, his balls softly slapping against your butt. It takes your breath away, and you’re pretty sure you’re making a face that you’ve never made before. “Fucking amazing,” you say with a breathy voice. “Impossibly good.” It’s hard to form full, coherent sentences when he’s so deep inside of you, overwhelming you with physical pleasure and dominating every thought you have.

“That’s fucking right.” He buries his head in your neck and then—bites?! You hiss through your teeth, more from surprise than pain. He moves his head and looks you straight in the eyes. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll mark you, so everyone knows you’re mine. My bitch. My plaything.” He moves his mouth to his bite mark and starts licking it. It’s a strangely soft and gentle sensation, juxtaposed by the bite and the way his penis fucks your hole. He isn’t rough there, but a member that size pushes your body to its limits, no matter how careful he is.

“So… you can be sweet too,” you manage to whisper with some difficulty. “Master,” you add.

“I can be as gentle as my partner wishes me to be.” His mouth is close to your ear, his voice a mere whisper. “But I pride myself on being able to read others quite well—what turns them on, what they want. And I’m pretty sure you want only a little sweetness with a whole lot of domination. Don’t you, little slut?” He hisses that last word as he brings down his cock quickly, penetrating you deeply. You squeal in surprise. “You’re mine now, cunt. All mine.”

He continues at a higher pace, moving back so that only the head of his dick is still in your hole, and then bottoming out again. Your wrists are still pinned to the mattress, above your head. He shifts his hands, bringing your wrists together so he can pin them with only one of his large hands. His other hand goes between your chests, pinching your nipple. “Fuck, you feel good,” he moans.

“Master… You’re so big—it feels like you’re splitting me in two.” Your voice is soft. You’re barely able to speak as his large cock is slamming into you over and over. It doesn’t hurt much, but it remains wildly stimulating. Nothing has ever penetrated you this deeply, nor has anyone fucked your prostate this good. With each movement, his thick member massages that sweet spot inside you. It’s especially mind-blowing when the head, even larger than the shaft, passes by it, pressing down on it.

“You’re drooling,” Dark says with a low chuckle. He buries his head in your neck to lick it up, slowly moving his tongue from the side of your head to your mouth. Then he enters your mouth again, conveniently open from all the moans that he’s fucking out of you. His tongue is as aggressive as his cock, entering you and making sure there’s no part that remains untouched. He pushes your tongue aside as if it’s mere air, completely dominating you.

His hand, that was on your nipple, is now sliding lower. Down your abdomen, until it reaches your erect member. His large hand grabs it, envelops it. His thumb rests on the tip, rubbing it a bit. There’s some precome on it, making his rubbing smooth. Then, he starts to move his hand up and down. Even though it’s so slow, it turns you on crazily. You were already close to coming from all his thrusts in your ass, but now that he is serving your penis with his hand, you can’t hold it in any longer. You moan into his mouth as your sperm shoots over his hand and your chest.

He breaks off the kiss and looks at you. It’s hard to look at him; you feel a little bit ashamed for already having come from just a little touch. “My work in your ass must have really turned you on for you to come that quickly.”

You nod silently.

“Good. I’ll take that as a compliment.” He brings his mouth to your ear again. “And you’re doing a good job too, you know. You’re such a perfect cocksleeve for me. Such a good girl.” Meanwhile, his assault on your ass has not abated. “Tell me, where do you want my come?” He lifts his head up again to look at you.

You can feel his cock twitching more than it did before, slowly nearing release. “Mm… Inside, master. I-I want you to f-fill me up.” His relentless pounding makes it hard for you to speak.

“Yeah. I can see it in your slutty eyes; you want me to fucking breed you.” He grunts as he slams into you, harder than before. His pace has decreased, changed into slow but hard fucks. When he bottoms out, he lingers there, letting the head of his cock roam around. “God, you have such a sexy expression right now. All fucked up.” He bottoms out again powerfully. You scream out in pleasure and pain simultaneously. It hurts, but it also feels so damn good. “Yes, that’s it,” Dark pants. “Let me hear your moans. Let me know how much you love being my bitch.”

“Hnng, M-… Ma-” But your words are cut short by your scream as he slams into you again.

“You don’t need to speak to tell me. I hear it in your moans and the way your ass is eating me up.” He chuckles darkly. “Fucking hell, I love you and your sexy hole.” He slams into you again. And again.

“Damn,” he moans. “I’m getting really close now.” His thrusts speed up again, his breeder balls slapping against you. The bed creaks softly under his powerful movements. He fucks you deep into the mattress and pillow that you are lying on. “I’m gonna fill you up real good. You’re never gonna want any other cock than mine again.” He speaks fast, with an unsteady voice—signs that he is nearing orgasm.

He slams into you one last time, and then ceases his thrusts. You feel his cock twitching and the thick liquid shooting into your ass. “Fuuuuck.” He twitches a bit, making movements that aren’t quite thrusts but do move his cock back and forth a last few times. He finally lets go of your wrists that he had pinned to the mattress, and collapses on top of you. The weight of his torso is crushing, but you don’t mind it. You wrap your arms around him, as if you want him closer still. His dick is still twitching, still shooting sperm, and Dark is moving around in your ass a little bit. “Fucking hell,” he moans. “That was a proper fucking load that I’ve just shot into you.”

“Mmm, thank you, master.” You’ve gotten hot; sweat glistens on your skin. But you feel hot inside too, thanks to his cock and the warm fluid he pumped into you. You close your eyes, savoring the sensations. Dark seems to be in a similar state of mind, his body relaxed as he lies on top of you. But after a minute or so, his cock having ceased its pulsations, he gets up from you, slipping his cock out. You open your eyes just as his hands grab your sides and he roughly turns you around, making you lie prone. The pillow that was under your ass is now supporting your groin, making your ass stick out.

Dark places his hands on your hips again, and then you feel the big head of his penis at the rim of your anus. “You didn’t think it was over, did you?” he says cockily. He pushes in with a grunt, eliciting another moan from you. “You see, I’m a man of my word. I promised you that you wouldn’t be able to walk after tonight. I mean to deliver.”

He penetrates your hole deeply—somehow it feels like he reaches even deeper than in the previous position. You want to moan, but the sensation is so overwhelming your breath is stuck in your throat for a moment. He moves again, fucking you deeply, hitting your prostate good, and you moan loudly in ecstasy. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath.

“That’s what I like to hear, my princess.” He removes his hands from your hips as he lies down upon you, his huge pecs pressing down on your shoulder blades. His thighs are on either side of yours. You feel the muscles in them contract and release as he fucks you. His right hand moves under your torso toward your face. He stops at your chin, holding it tightly. You can’t move your head anymore unless he wills it, and he knows it. “You’re in my power now, my sweet, sweet girl.” His possessive tone at your ear only serves to turn you on further, making you moan louder involuntarily with the next thrust.

“That’s it, let me hear you. I’m going to fuck all kinds of sweet noises out of you.” He interrupts himself for a particularly hard thrust, making you scream. “All. Night. Long. That’s a promise.”

Notes

The line “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. But you’ll thank me for it" was strongly inspired by this art by len_barboza on Instagram. So hot...

[loganwritesprobably]

Tell Me I Can Kiss You - Teen Wolf Fanfic

Request from: @holyangelstudentuniverse

Important Tags: Getting together, reader insert, soft Peter Hale Character(s): Peter and Reader, mentioned Stiles, Scott and Derek Pairing(s): Peter Hale/reader

Request?: Yes. "A heavier set AFAB he/they nonbinary reader"

Summary: Reader is a Werewolf that has moved from elsewhere in the country to Beacon Hills to get away from the stifling small town that he'd lived in, where they were the only Supernatural, and meets a certain someone

Inspiration: Dialogue prompt - “Oh, do I annoy you?” “Not more than usual.”

Warnings: Briefly addressed accidental misgendering and reader has some self-esteem issues in relation to their size and transness mentioned at the very end

[krewekreep]

After the Night Ends Chapter 1

3K Words. Alucard X OC!Reader. Reader is non binary with a femme body. AU but contains lore from Castlevania & Castlevania: Nocturne. Takes place during the last episode and goes from there

Angst, Estranged Lovers AU, Soulmate AU, Alucard is a reclusive, flirtatious snarky brat. Not 18+ yet but following chapters may and will be properly tagged as such. So indulgent I’m adding a soundtrack. Unknown Mortal Orchestra - Multi Love.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤

Your estranged love materialized out of thin air. A ghost of his former self; a slimmed figure, stark white hair, pearlescent pale skin. His eyes a hollow but peering yellow. Your heart beat beyond sound, a thunderous full body vibration. Although in mid-air piercing his sleek ornate sword through Drolta’s chest, you could do nothing more but falter in stability at his appearance. “Adrian…” you mumbled low. Richter took in your surprise realizing you had not been truthful of your affiliation with Dracula. Or rather, your affiliation was a lot more intimate than you let on. Much of your facade fell as Drolta’s screech and outreached hand towards you gave no fear. Not only because your Adrian was immaculate with his weapon, or the fact he would never let anything happen to you—you could handle yourself beyond compare.

For the sake of achieving your desire of reuniting with your love you found yourself amongst these well-meaning youth of tomorrow. Disguising your age was not difficult at this point in your travels but faking your background became harder as the old world you knew was vastly changed. You had to learn now, with your darker complexion, and couple hundred years from your original background, how to navigate the questions of who you were and where you came from.

The days of knowing the love of your life as Alucard, fighting and joking alongside Trevor and Sypha were long gone. You had already joined them close to the end of their respective voyages latching onto Alucard because of your shared loneliness and troubled background. Admittedly, you wanted to snatch Adrian away into the darkness to confirm he’s the man who’s dangling in the air as if an ethereal marionette. Yet, in a way he was nothing as you remembered. The soft peach of his warm skin, his lively almost rose golden tresses, the breadth of his shoulders—all replaced by a more demure, reclusive, cold countenance. He felt…dead. You were the only one in suspension at this point as Drolta crashed to the ground without a nail reaching you. Her radiant crimson pink embers dwindling with her decaying body catching up to all the time she used. You could admit she had been captivating even if depraved. And as you watched her body wither into the wind a booted foot fell into your eye line. Large, leathered, and desiring acknowledgment.

Now he was on Earth, on land, the same as yours, beckoning you to confront the man you abandoned almost three hundred and something years ago. Your adoration and yearning caught in your throat. How could you apologize to him? Was it actually on you to apologize? How could you explain you missed him but hated him but loved him but ran away? You hadn’t realized you’d fallen to your knees until Richter prompted: “What the fuck is actually going on?” He stood back protective of Annette and Maria, his bulked arm extended as a barrier. You took no notice of him as when the second foot touched Earth you could muster no confidence to face your estranged beloved. “I heard you are in need of assistance,” he spoke directly above you, turning his head stilted to throw “Belmont.” The name fell from his lips in a knowing but wayward tone. “I am the son of Dracula…and I believe you have been looking for me.” Almost a question, hinted with deprived amusement. Everyone’s eyes fell to you who could do nothing more but clutch your chest tightly, wide-eyed. A nervous wreck of emotions. Richter spoke finally “Yes…we need your help,” he was earnest and determined taking in the gaping white of the eclipse centered in the blackened sky. He wavered looking to the ground defeated. “We…dearly need your help.” Richter was the most overtly perturbed. But also the most obviously willing to sacrifice his life to save the world. You knew them all courageous, even poor Eduard you promised Annette to help. It was easy to lie to them at first, everyone was cautious of the other. Yet, fight after fight, you all proved your loyalty and even love for one another. Then, the guilt of deceit weighed on you. You lied to them about everything focused only on your goal of finding your beloved again. And here he was in all his angelic splendor far from how you left him. You were as weak as when you ran away.

Maria joins “We are going to fight against Erzabeth. She has done unspeakable evils…” she weakens to a whimper as the thoughts of her mother hushes the entire group. Richter, now never not scowling, continues: “We are going to kill that Bitch. But it would be helluva lot easier if you join us…” Alucard stood statuesque, as acclaimed a visage as Apollo or Dionysus. A truly remarkable visual that captivated them all. If only they knew how many before them could do nothing more but gawk at his appearance. If only they knew how his skin glowed against the sun, unlike this almost bleached complexion. How his hair fell far beyond his shoulders and bounced with his laugh or his ballerino steps as he sauntered about. 300 years…how alone you had been. How alone he had had to have been. Tears brim but you quickly wipe them away shaking your head. It felt unreal, surreal, a lie.

“Are you…” his voice was soft, loving. “In need of any assistance too? Ma’am?” What? Ma’am? It was sharp and loaded. It was what he referred to you when you arrived appearing as a lost young maiden unbeknownst to him with experience in new identities already. When you arrived in the dark begging for his mercy and somewhere to reprieve. In a long blue ornate dress you stole easily from a paused caravan at the neighboring stop. All you needed to steal was food, medicine, and yeah maybe something to sell. In the unsafe sweep of midnight you saw the torches that lit the garden before the mountainous shadow of castle came into view. You could only make it out as the dark clouds passing peeked moonlight through that reflected off the staggering pointedness of the seemingly alive, angry architecture.

Truly had it not been the dead of night, as a woman (well perceived as such despite your personal desires), and performing the damsel role. You ended up sticking yourself in a situation where you’d need to go back miles the way you came or stick out this con of sorts. You thought to nab a few vegetables but it was so well kept you thought smart of guard dogs or some sort of watcher. Wouldn’t be far fetched someone peers out of the windows of this monstrous abode awaiting a strangers mistake.

You rush past clutching your dress in a hurry. Makes sense to seem distraught, lost, and vulnerable. You knocked softly upon the door which felt immediately futile. How thick and staggering the door was and the real size of the castle sent a cold chill through you. You press your hand to the door because you were sure you felt a pulse, or that rather while you knew it was not flesh—the door felt aware of you. I guess I’ll knock again. You knock much harder this time. Banging actually as you felt foolish becoming annoyed at how hard it was to successfully be weak. But in exchange for your admittedly resounding knocks you lifted your voice to a pitiful, desperate “Please! Hello!!! I’m lost and in dire need of assistance! Any help!! Please!!” Oh how you’d be sure to steal as much as you could. You were about to quit before the hulking door widened by itself. Tired of your persistence the door cracked enough to show a vast gallery with huge winding stairwells on either side. It felt like a library…while life has known these floors there’s a sense that much has happened…but you can’t ignore the cobwebs, floating dusts, and the sense that if someone did live here, they forewent cleaning a good bit of time ago. You shimmied through the doorway as it had not been kind enough to open fully. You stumbled a bit taking it all in.

“Hello?! Apologies, I’ve led myself astray far from those I was traveling with. I can compensate handsomely…” It just didn’t feel like you were talking to no one. Instead of reversing course you were the stubborn, hard headed type. “Please, I…I actually have no one.” You could be somewhat honest you supposed. Becoming genuinely desperate that atleast you weren’t crazy. “I am here in need of food and shelter. Only for a night.” You voice blared across the gallery traveling it’s way into the further darkness of the hallways leading deeper into the abyss of this now increasingly creepy place. Fear, worry, concern crept upon you. Maybe I did choose wrong. “I’m…desperate…but I know an unwelcome guest... I apologize for bothering you…thank you for opening your door if just to bade the weather for a time.” You were sincere. Whatever, whoever this was while maybe not of pure malice or evil was definitely not interested. You turned on your heel quickly about to shimmy back through the door’s crack when a masculine voice of obvious nobility cleared his throat loudly. So much so it stalled your legs leaving you shook to the core. You turned jolted at the sight of a long haired blonde man. A man you could easily claim is 6’3-6’5, dressed in a loose open chested blouse ruffled at the wrists. His broad shoulders, substantial almost bare chest, and his height sent you in a tizzy. You slipped on nothing grabbing at the door with an awkward chuckle. “Hello! Hi! I-uh,” Goddamn he’s attractive. “I’m just here for help. I am in need of food and reprieve, sir.” You clutched your hands to your heart, cleavage corseted against your chest that made your breasts bubble over the arch of the heart shaped hem. You knew how you looked—pathetic, sexy, and in need. You look up at him at a distance that blurs your ability to look him in the eyes. Most men were weak once you looked them in the eyes. Not only would you get what you needed… if he decided you could only take if you gave…you’d consider obliging.

“You could’ve taken the food in the garden…why disrupt me?” He was actually confused. Yeah you could’ve just stolen the food but there was a role to play and now by his presentation being a princess for tonight was acceptable. “I could’ve but I found it lacking etiquette. At the very least a proper request is well within my rights.” You fold your arms now in coquettish annoyance. Poking your lips out a bit in a pout. “I knew someone lived here by the attention and cleanliness of your land. So I just felt…determined I guess.” You throw a glance at the man still perched atop the stairway balcony. He’s unmoving and establishing his disinterest clearly. “Hmmm.” He looks you over well accustomed to a swindler. You were quite obvious as you only had began to even run in desperation towards the castle after scoping out much of the area. You were right, you had been watched. Unbeknownst to you the master of this home watched you wrestle your dress in frustration, curse along about your hatred for being girly, and your promise to yourself to take extra for your trouble. How dare you push out your chest, lift your voice, and plead as if a real maiden. He was amused but more cautious. Had he not known true violating betrayal he’d have likely bantered you into exposing yourself. He likely would’ve accepted your cleavage as repentance for lying. But, he actually was growing irritated with you. Had your stomach not growled this whole time he’d have a harder time even wanting to feed you.

“You may eat and leave. You cannot stay the night.” He was stoic. You had no real emotion or response to play off of so you leaned more into your attempt at flirtation. “Is that right?” You walked farther in now center of the gallery. You were able to see more of his features in the wafting light of the candlebras and chandelier. He was beyond. And you caught the raise of his brow at your staring. “Why might I not rest until morning?” Why not press the issue? While past midnight that meant you absolutely could stay till morning. A couple hours wouldn’t hurt this guy. “I’m truly alone. I would not ask of this with such persistence if I had somewhere else.” You place your open hand on your chest hoping to appeal to him. “One must know shame so please be aware I recognize how lowly it is of me to ask of you anything. I can maneuver the day very well…night…as someone like me…is just simply a danger I avoid at all costs.” This time you ended with the truth. Whether it be vagrants, vampires, night creatures, or the general evil person you knew and seen things that will always send you seeking shelter before the bars even begin to bustle with evening noise.

He felt your sincerity but cared not as you were already deceptive and up to no good. “A young maiden alone…” he was not one to be made a fool. “In the dead of night…” he began to slowly, eerily descend the stairs. Your wolf clawed through screaming you needed to scram. A bone deep desire to flee overcame you as his physique, face, and mood of pure annoyance actually intimidated you. “In a dress of such quality…bejeweled…clean…” Oh no. You realized what was happening. He knows I’m lying. He caught me. “How might I believe you are hungry…only in need of rest…where did you come from?” He is now at the last step before being equal on the floor with you. You babbled nothing as you had to look up to face him. “You must think me stupid. As if a mere commoner woman, thief…” he says with a certain venom. “Would be able to make a fool of Dracula’s son.” He hissed this time disappearing before closing the door harshly behind you. You leapt away from him colliding with the floor. “Dracula??? He’s dead??!” You screamed. “There’s no way your Dracula’s son. I apologize.” You bend your head to the floor on your knees. “I beg of you spare me.” The despair at your possible end turned you into a proper beggar. Rubbing your hands pitifully together. You were strong, you weren’t necessarily fully human but…this was beyond your comprehension.

“Sir I beg of you. I beg of you. Spare me. I am nothing more than a hungry wanderer. I lied. I lied. I’m sorry. Please do not hurt me.” Your mortal pain did touch this dhamphir before you. He would never kill you…why would you need to die when you are hungry? He could only understand you but a bite rose in his mouth. How he had trusted Trevor, Sypha…those other two…he could only resent himself for how easy he was. But tonight you will not disrupt him or his solitude or his impending desire to end his life. Your eyes pooled with tears as you watched his booted, leathered feet planted firmly in front you.

All you needed was food right? A couple hours sleep? Then leave and never return. His mind has been made up. “I do not consume as you mortals do. The garden is actually for the community. I do not horde what people are in dire need of…” he couldn’t help the disgust he felt at your trembling crying frame robbed of all the confidence you just had. How disgusting he was. Scary, unwanted, and forever cursed with his Father’s resentful countenance and his mother’s wondrous love and consideration. How deprived to sink his eye site in the lapse of fabric your dress caused in this pose. From your face to your lower belly visible as your hunched over figure exposed you. Once he was upon you the dress was so ill fitting to your size he almost laughed aloud at you pretending to be of some wealth and awareness.

Honestly tired of your very mortal woman fear he bent to a knee, offering a hand to you saying. “Ma’am? If you could consider my earlier behavior that of a brute…you may eat as you wish and rest until morning.” You began to protest. “No-No that’s absolutely okay. I will leave and it is as if I never bothered you.” You rose without raising your head. “I will leave as fast as I arrived.” But as you looked up directly into his eyes your stomach twisted and your mouth agape. He was immaculate. Gorgeous. Perfect. Son of Dracula? He huffed a chuckle and an incredibly weak smile. He’s trying, you thought. Caught up in the poke out of his fangs, he closes his mouth self consciously offering “Would you like maybe more comfortable clothes? A beautiful dress completely unsuitable for your stature.” He was judging. “Uh-I mean the dress isn’t actually that bad.” You choke out defending your outfit. “No no it’s not the attire at all…” it seems his eyes wandered too low there. “It’s you in it…” Oh okay ouch? “I have had many a traveler seek here for shelter. The kitchen is through the lower foyer on the right. Whatever is there is what you may use. It will have only what anyone has decided not to take. Do not do anything more than that. First and final warning.” He rose from you without another word ascending the stairs soon disappearing into the blackness of the upper hallway. The moment his aura depleted you could breathe again taking a couple of minutes to collect yourself before heading towards the kitchen. You threw a fearful glance up at the staircase walking under it and through to the expansive ground floor. Unable to get the image of the master of this home out of your mind. Scared of him but weirdly yearning deeply to know more.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Requests Open

[datauthorress]

Madness Combat Reader "R"

The Reader, or known as "R" to their teammates, is non-binary [AFAB] and in their late twenties. Once a regular grunt of Nevada, R and their family were subjected to torture by a group of robbers and murderers. R's family was violently murdered and R, mortally wounded, watched as the robbers lit the house on fire to destroy all evidence. R managed to escape the burning house, bleeding from their eye and their side, as well as limping with a broken leg. They manage to make down the road until the sun rose before collapsing on the road and passing out.

Much to their surprise, a group of superhuman grunts came across them and took them back to their base, where 2BDamned nursed them back to health. They joined the group, becoming a bundle of angry, fiery energy that only has revenge in mind.

R is usually clad in a black turtleneck with dark green cargo pants, boots and sometimes a coat. Their main weapons are a hunting knife [for more personal kills] and a gun, as well as a rifle. R is shorter than the rest of the group, being about 5'3" and of a slim build with a small chest that they can hide easily in a jacket or a baggy shirt.

R can throw one hell of a mean right hook and is usually partnered up with Hank.

[starandcloud]

Neteyam and Y/N

Y/N: Being Non-binary

Neteyam: Hasn't met them yet

Jake: Have you two met?

Neteyam: No?

Y/N: Stops weaving their basket and smiles being their bubbly self Hi! What's your name?

Neteyam: Neteyam, and yours? Already falling for the sunshine

Y/N: Y/N

Neteyam: That's a beautiful name

Y/N: Starts weaving their basket again Thanks! I picked it myself!

Neteyam: Confused

Jake: 100% understanding what they mean

Taglist:

@tumblingdevils @elvyshiarieko @christinechickiee @stefcatgirl @neteyamyawne

[captivatingckcreations]

— interlocking fingers.

˖°📷 summary ;; their reaction when you wish to hold their hand ˖° cobra kai characters x you/non-binary reader ˖° cute, fluff, sfw

—. Carmen Diaz

she would notice that you want to hold her hand, she puts her hand gently over yours. she plays with the grooves of your knuckles while smiling at how your fingers react to her much warmer and softer hands.

—. Miguel Diaz

he would ask if you were sure that you want to hold his hand, when accepting your offer he interlocks the fingers. he played around with them; wiggling his fingers in and out of yours (you do the same to him).

—. Robby Keene

the two of you offered to hold the other's hand at the same time, he was really shy about it as you would be the first one he held in a long time. when holding, he only holds them by the finger tips and that's all he would do.

—. Amanda LaRusso

she would hold your hand regardless if you asked or not, she will hold onto it gently. she would play around with the palm and knuckles, smiling gently as she does so. it's also very ticklish when she does (she has very soft hands; she reapplies lotion every hour or so).

—. Anthony LaRusso

he expresses that he's not used to holding hands with another person, hoping that it didn't offend you any. he says it's because of his stupid overwhelming fear of his hands being too sweaty to hold onto for long periods.

—. Daniel LaRusso

he would nudge his hand into yours, or be the first one to offer the hand holding between the two of you, however he would never force you to hold it if you didn't want to. he would rub your fingers and take note of how your hands look in his, making him gleam and smile.

—. Samantha LaRusso

she would do a similar thing to her father, but she does it a little differently as she does it to play with you/your hand. she would shyly push her pinkie to the palm of your hand before asking if it was okay for her to do that, if it was she would interlock her fingers with yours.

—. Johnny Lawrence

he would act like he didn't know how to hand hold correctly so you offered to teach him how to hold your hand, but you realized he was faking at not knowing. feeling betrayed a little you slap his hand away, but he grabbed a hold of it and held it the way you taught him, also he would play with your fingers.

—. Eli Moskowitz

he would fiddle with his fingers, not sure if he wants to hold your hand but there is a look in his eye that gives it away that he does. you gently lean over and hold onto his hand, making him smile and peck a kiss on your cheek. the two of you go back and forth with whose thumb should be the one on top hehe...

—. Tory Nichols

she would know that you are wanting to hold her hand by looking at you; your eyes; your body language, so she would forcibly grab a hold of your hand and put it in hers. she would actually be gentle when holding it, though she would tend to drag you around some. you recall the rough texture of her skin of yours, in contrast you are the one who is soft and she is the one who is brittle and rough.

—. Kenny Payne

he would be the mix of both awkward and shy to even offer his hand over to you. you promised to be real gentle with his hand as the two of you laid the other's fingers on the other, he was really excited to have someone hold his hand. you pretend to not notice the excitement to not embarrass him later.

—. Shawn Payne

similar to both Eli and Tory, he would forcibly grab a hold of your hand and drag you around though he would be very gentle. he does play around your thumb almost thumb wrestling with it for his time on top of your hand, and he would hold your hand so tight that it popped your knuckles. the sound of your knuckles were quiet but he did feel them underneath his palm, making him turn and ask you if you were alright.

© captivatingckcreations | original link [original posting date - Sunday, May 5th, 2024] {boost the post by liking, reblogging, and sharing!}

[starheart-blog]

To Everyone, i made Non-binary Y/N The Cat Character For The Julius The Cartoon Cat au one shots and HeadCanons.

[morvantmortuary]

storm warning --

(seth sunday x plus size non-binary reader, 18+)

summary: Seth Sunday issues a challenge to the Morvants. it doesn’t go as anyone anticipated.

warnings: some gore, necromancer violence, someone gets struck by lightning, implied deception of the reader, Seth kind of looks down on the reader for being human but it makes sense in context, oral sex (enby receiving), penetrative sex, not so much size kink as resistance kink, implied dacryphilia on Seth’s part, implied that he’s using the reader to some degree for Reasons

general: reader is plus size and non-binary and uses they/them, but Seth uses decidedly feminine nicknames. just FYI. if any language can be tweaked for a more seamless experience otherwise, I’m always down to hear it.

here it is, our boy’s first real outing! cheers to all the other Dastmalchian-face lovers out there, we deserve the best and more.

best accompanied by this playlist, should you so desire.

eta May 2025: here it is in full, all in one piece with the epilogue. I was sitting here trying to decide if I wanted to re-upload everything in chronological order, but then I remembered the one nonny who was kind enough to say before the scrape that they wanted to read 'storm warning' on ao3 but their invite was taking forever.

to whoever that nonny was: I love you, I'm sorry I didn't get to respond before the scrape happened, and this is for you babe 🖤

Standing at the edge of the graveyard, Seth Sunday watched the dusk soak up the inky black of the thunderhead rolling in. It was out of season for so early in the year, but that was the point.

He had a rule about first impressions: it was gauche not to start as he intended to go on. Especially when he was going against the house. 

Especially the House on the far side of the cemetery.

Rolling his shoulders, he took a long breath through his nose and exhaled between his lips. All the air down here was wet; it made summoning quicker but made the whole process heavier. A lot more weight to have to balance along the column of his spine.

Not to mention, he could have all the humidity in the world, but being in someone else’s home court like he was right now still posed a challenge.

One more deep breath, and a stretch of his scapulae like a swimmer about to slice through water. 

Then he fixed his eyes on the door on the House’s back porch - an anchor point for what was about to happen - and took his first step across the cemetery’s threshold.

He actually smiled as a sudden pressure caused his ears to pop, the surrounding sounds of the outside world suddenly smothered by an unseen layer of gauze. The air rippled just enough to be perceptible from the spectral tripwire he’d set off, ruffling the patches of grass that had grown long at the bases of crumbling mausoleums.

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his black duster coat, he whistled an old showtune nobody remembered anymore as he continued towards the middle of the churchyard, his pace a leisurely stroll.

At the dead center in the crossing of the two main paths through, he stopped, still whistling and kicking absently at some stones there with the toe of his freshly shined dress shoe.

He only looked up when he heard the echo of squeaking old hinges.

In the gloaming dark, the door on the House’s back porch seemed to have opened on its own. Any lights that might have been in the windows had all gone dark, leaving it looking abandoned and somehow older than its already impressive years.

Lips still pursed to whistle, Seth was riveted as a tall, perfectly shadowed figure emerged, two eye-level pinpricks of a bright amethyst visible from clear across the cemetery and through the treeline. It settled itself on one side of the porch, leaning on the railing with its elbows as if simply contemplating the view.

Another figure emerged from the endless black that was the doorway, this one with gleaming eyes of emerald. Its gaze never wavered from him as it moved to the other side of the porch, then climbed up to perch on the railing itself. 

To Seth’s curiosity and mild delight, it kicked its dangling feet as it watched him, as though eager for the show he was about to give.

Finally — At last, he thought, inhaling without realizing it — a third shadowed figure appeared, slightly taller than the first. Seth could’ve mistaken the deep crimson light that stared at him for the glare off a gator’s eyes in the night, the nasty big lizard sizing him up from its filthy swamp.

This third figure leaned against a column near the porch’s low stairs, casual, as if waiting to greet an expected guest coming up the drive.

The muffling gauze from the graveyard suddenly spread over the whole property, as the distant calls of night birds and the gentle chirring of insects hushed out bit by bit. Like something had come along and drank all the sound from the world.

For what felt like ages but must have only been a minute, the three figures watched Seth — unmoving, unblinking. Frozen perfectly in place with the growing silence.

The air itself seemed to press closer around him, growing somehow denser with the beginning crackles of… something.

He had to move now, or they were going to use all that Something up before he could.

Seth let out one last whistle — two quick notes, a “yoo-hoo!” of an opening salvo — then raised his tensed right hand straight up over his head.

When he snapped his fingers, a thunderbolt taller than God shot down from the sky not more than fifty feet in front of him, bathing the entire cemetery in blue-white light as it made contact with the ground.

When the thunder finally caught up with the light, it shook the earth hard enough that he could hear the kitchen windows rattling from all the way over here.

And with that, his challenge was officially set.

As the light began to fade, his vision studded through with bright-blue afterburn, he gave a theatrical bow from the waist - his left hand pressed to his chest bashfully, his right flourishing out to his side.

…More silence.

Seth frowned at his shoes, waiting a tick. He was used to more. Maybe a ‘holy shit!’ or an ‘oh fuck what was that?’, at least.

Still nothing.

With an insulted scoff, Seth raised his head long enough to see that the porch was empty —

But didn’t stand quick enough to block the punch that cracked hard into the side of his face.

Seth fought to right himself even as he stumbled, his left eye suddenly crawling with deep red sparks which seemed to swarm onto the site of the strike. He hissed as their gathering burned like a brand, and when he hastily reached up to wipe them away, the hiss became a yelp of pain as his own skin blistered and cracked. His nose was suddenly filled with the familiar scent of putrefaction, and he rounded on his would-be attacker —

Only to have to step back fast to avoid some sort of howling creature springing at his eyes.

Seth instinctively grabbed the thing that was lunging at him and immediately yelped again, realizing he’d just shoved his palms between two powerful jaws and all the teeth they contained. The leathery desiccated skull of an alligator was trying to snap itself around his head, its spine clattering loudly as it wriggled in his grasp. Bony limbs much longer than a regular gator’s — what were those? Big cat? Something with claws - were kicking at him, also reeking of decay, and it took him a minute to realize they were part of the thing he was trying to keep from ripping him to pieces. 

The entire creature glowed with an eerie green that made it almost look radioactive, highlighting what thin strips of dried flesh still clung to the various mishmashed parts. When its cleft back hoof (hoof?) stomped down hard on the delicate metatarsals of his foot, Seth cried out in both rage and pain, and finally yanked hard enough to pull and  snap the creature’s jaws apart entirely.

The green glow immediately vanished from the bones, and the whole thing seemed to lose whatever force enchanted it, clattering at his feet like a taxidermist’s scrap pile.

He slammed the mandibles to the dirt in frustration, whirling again to find who’d sicced the thing on him with a raised fist of his own and a sudden lash of rain ripped from the clouds themselves —

Only to feel a cold that penetrated deep beneath his sleeve suddenly lock itself around his wrist, chilling him to the very bone… which was a tricky feat indeed, considering how much it took for him to feel temperature. 

Over the growing gale, he was aware of a low, panicked murmuring filling his ears, voices overlapping with pleas and moans of terror and questions in languages he couldn’t pin down. There was a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision before his other wrist was similarly captured, and both were yanked to the absolute limit of his arms while barely avoiding dislocation. As he snapped his head left and right to find the attacker, all he could make out was a thick mist — one that somehow managed to cluster densely together into almost a shadow, despite the winds of his storm escalating with his rage. 

The force of it whipped the lush treeline between the House and the cemetery into a flailing frenzy, and though he couldn’t yet pull down another show-stopper bolt, a smaller strike got perilously close to where he saw a figure wreathed in green watching some distance away.

There was a shriek of surprise — The Resurrectionist, he realized, the sister — and for a moment, the ghosts’ hold on his wrists faltered. He saw another figure closer by, the amethyst eyes, spinning to find the source of the sound. As he did, whatever motion he’d been doing to bring his deceased assistants to this side of the Veil was incomplete, and they almost immediately began to flicker.

Seth yanked his arms free, only realizing they’d had him off the ground when he landed on ungainly feet. He straightened again, beginning the gesture to concentrate the gathering, frothing static into something sharp and focused —

Only to get punched on the other side of his jaw by a figure out of his eyeline.

This strike knocked Seth sideways, and the red-eyed figure flung himself after, seizing his falling form in a messy lunge that took them both to the cemetery soil.

Seth’s howl was less surprise and more fury that this fucking bayou bastard had pushed him into the dirt, especially when this coat was dry-clean only in this podunk little town. He shoved his hand upward against his assailant, meaning to hook his fingers under a lip and tear a cheek, but was unable to find his mark amid the repeated punches to his skull and throat.

The Reaper Seth had heard so much about was straddling his torso, one hand clenched around his throat. The other fist was absolutely pummeling him, each blow gleaming an aortic crimson around the skin and leaving a caustic, burning sensation with whatever part of his face it landed on. Seth did his best to keep his groans to a minimum, to buck and twist and try to dump his assailant into the dirt next to him for some proper reciprocation, but found the Reaper a tricky man to unseat. 

Apparently unsatisfied with merely beating the shit out of him, Seth felt the fist suddenly yank his hair and pull his skull straight up off the ground, only to smash it back down against the ancient packed earth. He did this a few times, punctuating each lift of Seth’s skull with a snarl:

“Get.” Crunch.

“Away.” Crunch.

“From.” Crunch.

“Us.” 

The red eyes filled his vision, and Seth felt his breath catch in his throat — not in fear, but in wonder.

Where he had thought about tearing the Reaper’s face, the use of its own magic seemed to have done that already — he was gazing into the face of something distinctly Not Alive, the flesh of his cheeks now mere strings of sinew holding the lower mandible to the skull. The same red of his eyes filtered through the gaps, and between them, Seth could see a black tongue, forked, that tensed and writhed like a snake.

The two were practically nose to rotting nose, the stench of decay inescapable now. Seth had to fight the urge not to gag. 

“What,” he managed, smirking as much as his wounded, burning face would allow. “Happened to ‘Southern Hospitality,’ huh?”

“You arrogant motherfucker,” The Reaper hissed through rotten teeth, his voice layered with something Else. A feeling Seth recognized from his own time at the crossroads: the instinctive twist of terror in his gut and all the hair on his body standing on end, his body screaming on an existential level  to run away. “You of all people should know to leave well enough alone. You have no idea what you’re askin’ for.”

“Why?” Seth cocked a brow as best he could, ignoring how his heart was hammering under his sternum. It was here, staring him in the face. The one he’d been hunting for ages, right here, in the fetid flesh. He swallowed hard, summoning his nerve. “Scared of a little competition?” 

At his side, out of the Reaper’s sight, he stretched his index and middle fingers, his thumb spreading parallel to them as far as it could. Above them, the rain lashed harder, leaving them both soaked as the uneven sacred ground began to flood around them.

The Reaper grabbed both his lapels, dragging his head and shoulders roughly upward. “Listen to me, you fucking idiot, it’s not a competition. I am warnin’ you, you don’t want this.”

Seth felt a manic laugh escape his lips before he could stop it. “What’s the matter, Lifer? You don’t want to give it up? The seat of power you don’t even use?” He practically spat it into the necromancer’s face, his voice acrid with venom. “I could do so much more, and all I need is to take it. Why not make it easy for me?”

Something akin to surprise flashed across the Reaper’s expression, and after a moment, he did something that made Seth’s stomach sink:

He laughed back.

“You don’t even know, do you?” It said. It grabbed his throat, slamming him hard back to the ground. “It’s not me anymore, dipshit. You’re tryin’ to take it from someone who don’t even have it.”

Seth blinked. This… was not what he’d been told. “The seat is vacant,” he managed, around the torrent of rain that was still soaking them both. He could feel the water creeping up his neck, the tepid muddy grit inching towards his ears. “You haven’t filled it.”

“I’m not even in line,” the Reaper snarled.

“Way to pick the wrong fight, pendejo!” The Summoner taunted from where he stood, still hiding the Ressurectionist behind a newly summoned ghost horde.

Seth took a minute to process this before shrugging slightly under the Reaper’s knees. Fair enough.

A good performer can always improvise, after all.

Searching as best he could through his lashes, Seth sighted the green and purple glow of the Reaper’s compatriots not far away, one standing protectively in front of the other and summoning new spectral figures to their side. He inhaled, committing the spot to memory.

The Reaper’s face changed again, its red eyes widening as he shook his head. It looked, for a second, like he was trying to shake loose the influence of the thing inside him. “Listen to me,” it said, looking down into Seth’s face. “If They put you up to this, if They’re tryin’ to start shit, you can’t listen to Them.” Something was happening to his voice, a layer peeling back to sound more… human? What was this, some sort of trick? “Listen to me, man, They’re not lookin’ out for you, They don’t give a shit about any of us. They’re just tryin’ to make a useful fool out of you so They can—”

Seth felt what showman’s composure he’d managed to keep finally crack, his grin spasming into a snarl of his own. “How about you shut your hick mouth, and we’ll see who’s the fool?”

As he exhaled, he snapped his stretched fingers, and the energy coursing through the thunderheads above them slid into formation.

Small bolts of blue-white light dropped into the cemetery, providing him with enough of a distraction to push the Reaper off and regain the high ground.

After that, the other two rushed forward, and as Seth felt his own fingers began to crack and change, the gloves came off.

—

The night-time thunder crashing overhead drowned out the crunch and engine of the sleek black rental car that pulled up to your place, coming to a stop within sight of your dark bedroom window.

Once he had the damn thing in park, Seth allowed himself to slump slightly over the steering wheel and let out a frustrated growl.

Those nepo baby little shits. Those spoiled cheating brats, those know-nothing walking corpses —

“FUCK!” Seth reeled back and punched the wheel hard, then immediately cursed himself for his haste. He winced as he scanned your window again, immensely grateful he hadn’t accidentally blared his horn. He couldn’t risk catching your attention too soon.

You couldn’t see him now. 

Not like this.

Using a hand whose fingers were still slightly too long, too inky black at the tips with crooked nails, he tilted the rearview mirror towards his own face. After a moment’s hesitation, he carefully lifted off the sunglasses perched haphazardly on the bruised bridge of his nose, despite it being almost midnight.

His eyes were perfect pitch black, looking almost like holes in his skull, which was currently clearly visible under his damaged skin.

“That bespectacled little pissant,” he hissed through teeth that were still too sharp, too pointed. He prodded with a finger at the blistered, ruined skin of his face, covered in the remnants of punches that had sucked the life from it and left him near-mummified.

Indeed, he felt the tip of a claw threaten to puncture the thin flap and rip the side of his face open with little effort.

“Oh, I’m going to hang him outside that ugly house by his own tie, and watch the maggots eat him before he can scab over,” he muttered to himself, looking down to survey the rest of the damage. 

Having already shed his ruined coat, his suit jacket was torn, nearly shredded at parts of the sleeves from the massive teeth. “After I steal his sister’s pretty face, and wear it while I strangle her with her own hair.”

He winced in obvious pain as he pulled the jacket off, gasping and having to stop for a moment as he tried to pull it over his left shoulder. “And the Summoner.” He gritted his teeth as he examined his wrists, bruised black and blue now. “I’m gonna kill him first,” he went on, his tone deceptively cheerful. “I’m going to take his head and put it in a box, and tie it up with a bow, and mail it to his dear mamita, and then I’m going to put his ghost in an antique doll, and I’m going to stick it that in front of the girl’s corpse so he can watch it putrefy in real time.”

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, closing his eyes as he rested his right hand against his wonky shoulder. He muffled the soft whimper that threatened to escape as he adjusted his grip, and then, with a sickening crunch, shoved his torso hard into the frame of the car until the joint popped back into its socket.

He forced the brief, anguished yell that emerged back into speech. “—AAAand then.” The words caught in his teeth, which were still not quite human. “I’ll set it in front of the boy’s, so he can watch me skin that twiggy nerd alive every time he re-generates an epidermis. Forever.”

He was panting now, swallowing the wave of too-warm spit that heralded his body wanting to puke from the pain. “And then I think I’ll take all their hearts and eyes,” he went on, scrunching his eyes closed as he felt his nails retracting slowly back into his fingertips. “And just make a pretty little wet specimen display for their living room mantle.” His teeth were retracting into his gums to their previous shape, flesh shredded and bloody as the bones ground against each other. His temples throbbed, white hot ice picks pressing hard into his skull as it re-shaped itself into something human. “And They Who will say ‘Oh, Sunday, we love what you’ve done with Maxi’s old place, it’s so chic now,’ and I’ll say ‘What, this old thing? Oh, you know I’m but a dilettante, thank you ever so kindly. Please, sit down, let me have my decapitated Morvant corpse-servants take your coats. Please don’t mind them dripping gangrene everywhere, they’re so silly and stupid that way.’” He spat a tooth into his own hand, a fragment of the dead nerve still clinging to one of the roots.

It had been a long time since a fight had dragged his own Provided Form out of him, leaving his human glamor in such disarray. But the Morvants, as much as he absolutely loathed to admit it, had given as good as they’d gotten.

Until he’d dropped one last show-stopper bolt on the Summoner, that is.

He glowered into his rearview mirror, remembering how he and the Resurrectionist had been going tooth and nail, her pulling with her own magic like she was trying to yank his bones out through muscle and sinew, until he’d realized another consciousness was trying to push in on his own. A feeling of something trying to sneak into his skull while he was distracted, already feeling phantom fingers crawling up his arm to slip into his hand like a skin glove.

It was almost clever. Distracting him so their Veil-walker could slip unnoticed past his mental defenses. He found himself nearly admiring the other man’s audacity.

Unfortunately for that idiot, Seth had been keeping a bolt locked and loaded for his big finale, waiting for just the right time. He hadn’t meant for the fight to end, but he’d needed to make sure no one could creep into his head through a back door, use his own storm against him. It might have meant his finisher was less flashy, but you know, if that’s what it took.

But when he’d turned back after to finish what they’d started, the Resurrectionist had only screamed, like he’d dropped it on her instead. She tore herself from him, running to where the Summoner had simply dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Perplexed, Seth had turned from her just in time to see the Reaper racing towards them, and braced himself to avenge his own beating —

But the other man had passed by the opportunity to fight anew, also running to where the woman was now bent over the limp form in the dirt.

The two were murmuring quickly, the lights of their magic beginning to flicker, and the Resurrectionist making a sound like… crying? Was she actually crying? This was a challenge of combat, what did she expect?

“—Pulse,” he had just barely heard the Reaper say. “Come on, back inside.”

He’d lifted the man with surprising ease, despite their nearly equal height, and the two remaining Morvants began — Retreating?

Were they seriously running? Was he seeing this?

These were the necromancer darlings of They Who Provide? Their perfect death-wielding machines he’d heard so much about?

It’d taken him a full minute before he’d realized they really were just leaving him standing there.

“…Hey. Hey!” Seth had called after them, taking a couple stunned steps after.

Neither of them had looked back, continuing to make their way back towards the House — where he knew for sure he couldn’t follow. Not unless he’d wanted to risk the Ritual backfiring on him, and all this being for naught.

“HEY!” he’d shouted that time, his patience quickly wearing thin.

The two had barely paused, glancing only partially over their shoulders to look at him.

“What the hell are you doing? We’re not done here!” Seth called. “I challenged you! You owe me a fight to the finish!” He’d had to restrain himself from stamping his foot, though the urge was strong.

“Shut up,” The Resurrectionist scoffed, choked with furious tears. They’d advanced again, leaving his chosen field of play in a clear violation of the Code —

And a direct insult to his standing as a fellow practitioner.

His nails curled into the leather of his steering wheel at the memory, leaving deep gashes in the material. Though he shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed, when they’d just had it handed to them at birth. They had never had to earn it, like he had.

“GET BACK HERE,” Seth had yelled, losing his temper at last. “HOW DARE YOU! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH THIS!”

The Reaper had whirled on him then, the two necromancers standing at the edge of the tree line with the Summoner’s limp body in his arms. The red in his eyes was fading, and for the first time, Seth saw the brown-burgundy iris underneath.

In a voice that was entirely human, he’d sneered, “You’re not worth the dirt it’d take to bury you.”

Before Seth could respond, they’d disappeared through the thickest part of the trees, and the invisible bubble over the cemetery burst. The world around them had had no knowledge of the storm, and the birds and bugs continued to chirp and chirr, having seen nothing more than a few flashes of light and heard nothing more than some muffled rumbled.

Though they’d scattered to the winds when Seth had let loose a shriek, all wordless fury and frustration let loose into the pitch-black night sky.

Sitting here now, hunched over his steering wheel and trying his best not to vomit, he was more sore that he’d let slip that moment of weakness than he was about his body trying to shape itself into something resembling a living man again.

So they’d flagrantly abandoned an official challenge to their dominion. He’d known they tended to flaunt things in They Who Provide’s faces, but this was simply beyond the pale.

At this point, getting rid of them would be like pruning a stunted branch from an illustrious tree. And he’d bloom in their place as a healthy graft, bringing fruit to bear once more.

…Or something. Whatever, the metaphor was there, he was going to kill them all and take what they’d never deserved to begin with.

But first, he knew it would take something special to put those three in the ground where they belonged. And right now, he desperately needed to just get back to his usual self.

But that was what he had you for, didn’t he?

He dug a cell phone out from a niche in his dashboard, having to squint against the noxious bright light of the screen as he sought your last conversation. He loathed these little omnipresent rectangles, truth be told, but he was grateful for them at moments like these, where he couldn’t bear to be seen. 

Beat the hell out of having to find a payphone, anyway.

When he hit the call button, he could see a soft pinpoint of light begin to glow in the dark of your room. He could always depend on you to keep your phone close at hand.

It took you a few rings to answer, and your voice was sweetly sleepy when you finally did. “Hello?”

“Aw, cupcake,” Seth cooed, his voice completely at odds with his ragged appearance. “I’m sorry, sweetness, did I wake you from a good dream?”

He saw the little light you used on your bedside table click on, the room bathed in a gentle luminescence that barely penetrated the dark. “Nothing special,” you said quickly, and he smirked a little as he heard you clear your throat to sound more awake. “Nothing I don’t mind being interrupted by you, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pretending to pout for effect. “I couldn’t bear to bother my baby if they’re tired.”

But he knew you. You would say yes.

You were always so sweet. So pliant to his every little suggestion.

It really made things easier than he’d expected.

“No, not at all,” you insisted, muffling a yawn as you did so. “Are you nearby?”

“Closer than you think.” Seth got out of the car, closing the door to punctuate his point. 

“Oh!” He heard the hurried rustling of your sheets on the other end. “I’m sorry babe, I didn’t hear you pull up, I’ll be—”

“No, no, no, angel, don’t trouble yourself,” he cooed again, eyes on your window as he headed for your porch. “You’re right where I want you. Trust me.”

“…Oh.” The sound was softer this time than your previous squeak of surprise. “Are you sure? I mean — I could get up and make some coffee—”

“Perish the thought. You stay right there and don’t move a muscle,” he said, an edge of a command creeping into his tone. “I’ll show myself in.”

He heard a breathy exhale on your end, and the sound of you settling back onto your mattress. “…Okay,” you managed at last, when you must have realized you hadn’t spoken for a minute. “I’ll be… right here.”

Seth smirked again, despite the way it hurt his face. “That’s a good doll.” He nudged the flower pots on your porch aimlessly around with his shoe, enough to make it sound like he was finding your spare key. “Tell you what — keep the lights off for me, hmm?”

“Um — sure.” A pause. “You’ll find your way in okay?” A bit of concern crept in to your voice. It was cute, how you still thought he was human. He wasn’t sure at this point if you genuinely didn’t know yet, or if you were just explaining things away as misunderstandings, odd coincidences.

Either suited him just fine.

“Call it my first trick of the night.” He couldn’t help a painful grin at the way he heard you swallow. “See you soon.”

He hung up, then gestured lazily with his fingers so the lock undid itself. No one in a town this small used deadbolts. It was… quaint.

He let himself in as he promised he would, kicking off his shoes and folding up his frayed suit jacket to place on your front table. If you noticed it before he left, he’d make up a story. It wouldn’t be difficult.

 You were so trusting, so generous of heart, he almost felt bad about how easily you took him at his word.

…Almost.

He gestured again to lock the door behind him — this was a private party, after all — and turned, stepping into and through the shadows of your house -

To appear just outside your bedroom door.

It’d be too quick, logically, for him to have walked all that way in just a few seconds. But you were sweet, forgiving. You might just think you’d spaced out, lost track of time.

At any rate, it wasn’t his concern what you thought.

He nudged your door open, letting the squeak of the hinges announce him as he lingered in the doorway.

In the dark, he saw you bolt up where you were waiting for him on top of your covers - how sweet of you, to be so convenient, and in one of his ‘borrowed’ t-shirts too. “Seth?” You did, indeed, sound surprised. Maybe you were more awake than he thought.

“Hi, doll.” He took his time walking in, letting you hear each step as he crossed your room (careful to avoid the discarded dirty laundry on your floor as he did so). He unbuttoned the top of his shirt for the first time since he’d put it on that day, the ache beginning to return to his cheekbones and his shoulders. He was going to be greedy, he could already tell. “You have a good day?”

“Fine. Pretty ordinary — my coworkers are sniping at each other, as usual, but they left me out of it.” You moved as he moved, spooky action at a distance or whatever it was called, drawing your legs closer on your bed to make room for him. “How about you?”

“Ugh.” He let himself tip forward onto your mattress, climbing up with his elbows so he laid there on his stomach. “A nightmare.”

“Aww, no.” You instinctively reached forward to card your fingers through his hair, and he hoped that whatever blood might be congealed there, you just thought it was pomade. “I’m so sorry, babe - what happened?”

“Mmf.” He let himself crawl again to rest his chin on your bare thighs, and didn’t miss the soft inhale you tried to hide. “New collaborators didn’t really want to… collaborate, as it were. It was a very frustrating rehearsal.”

“That sucks,” you said, all sympathy. It was so funny how such a benign phrase now would’ve scandalized his mother a century ago. You said it without thought or pause. “Do you have to work with them? Can’t you just tell them to fuck off, and hire someone else to work with?” 

As you continued to stroke his hair, one hand reached towards his face — he caught it just in time, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Mmno,” he mumbled. “I need them, if I’m going to take my act in this new direction.” He held your arm, kissing the bones at the base of your hand and up your wrist. “But at the end of the day, I get to come home to you, so who cares about them?”

He felt you shift slightly, shy; he’d train you out of that yet. If he was going to keep you, there would be no shyness when he acknowledged that claim. 

When everything was ready, he’d make sure you wore it like the crown that it was.

“Come here,” he said, cutting off any further protest.

Like the good little creature you were, you moved closer immediately, lying back on your mattress like he preferred. Underwear already gone, though he wouldn’t have minded doing that himself.

He sat up on his knees, discarding his shirt and the bloody undershirt beneath it. Part of him acknowledged it didn’t make much sense, keeping around a human consort when there were plenty of eligible practitioners among They Who Decide. Possibly someone from the River family, the Guillemettes, would’ve made a more strategic choice. 

They who kept the river under their thumb controlled most of the country, after all.

But as he pulled you closer to him, gripping a plush thigh with each hand and pushing them apart, he disliked the idea of having to… get comfortable with someone else, all over again.

You were just how he wanted you, save for that lingering doubt in yourself. Eager to please, not jaded or cynical…

And sweet, he thought, as he pressed a kiss to the inside of each thigh. Almost too sweet. You were starting to become an indulgence, a habit.

He snaked the very tip of his tongue along your slit, listening for your telltale gasp, the way you twitched hard underneath him. He held your thighs even tighter as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, before using the flat of his tongue to part them.

“Seth—” 

You were already so wet, he wondered if he’d interrupted a particularly scrumptious dream when he’d called. As his tongue slowly grazed your clit, he could already feel you soaking down the line of his jaw, searing the skin further.

It was too soon to pull from you, but his wounds were thirsty, waiting.

Poor thing, you were going to have a hell of a time getting up in the morning.

“Oh, god.” 

He pulled you flush against his mouth so you had no room to escape or try to wriggle free, and he pushed your thighs onto his shoulders, circling your clit to make you squirm against his face. He loved when you couldn’t take it, when you tried to move because you felt it too much. It made such a mess, and it was all the more fun to hold you down until you tearfully begged for mercy.

Your hands curled into his hair as you gasped, stuttering nonsense as you tried not to buck against his face. He let your clit press against the bridge of his nose for a moment as he slipped his tongue inside you - still a bit longer than it should have been in a human, but he was counting on you being too distracted to notice.

He heard you whining, your resolve dissolving as you ground yourself against him, and he met your movements with his own, lapping at the center of you.

Already, he could feel something tightening in him like a stringed instrument, followed by the sharp ache of things preparing to knit themselves back together. 

“Come on, doll,” Seth whispered against your cunt, laving your clit again with a new desperation. He needed you to come for this to work, but you were also so close, he could taste it on you. “I got you. Just let go.”

You audibly moaned, and he shoved his tongue against your clit, moving your hips hard against his face with his hands to encourage you to ride it out.

“Oh, fuck.” Your nails dug into his scalp, but you followed his bidding, dragging yourself against his tongue as the sounds filled your empty room. At last, with a shudder and pulling his hair to the point where it ached, you came undone with a sound like a sob of his name.

There it was. He took the energy you gave, the light under your skin scattering into his as he pulled it down like a black hole. Flickers of white sparks found the parts of him that needed it most: The skin of his face was sealing itself closed again as he drank you down, feeling your hips jerk more harshly against his mouth, and he felt his wrists as he held you begin to melt the bruises underneath the skin.

Just the one would’ve been enough to put him back together, but he was as greedy as he thought he’d be, lapping at you well after it became overstimulating and your sobs continued. He wanted more, he couldn’t help himself. You just made him feel so good.

“Seth, please,” you whimpered, and he was happy to oblige, roughly manipulating your body so he could move underneath you and fall onto his back. He was less afraid of you seeing him now that his face was fixing itself — his less visible wounds would take longer, but he could power through those.

He set you on his ribs as he reached down to undo his belt, and you ground yourself down on his torso impatiently, soaking the skin there. He hissed through gritted teeth as you rode a bruise you couldn’t see, but if anything, he angled to better position you on top of it, loving the way your mouth fell open as the pain seared him from within.

Before he could ditch the rest of his clothes, you took the opportunity, pulling the offending garments away leave his cock leaking against his stomach. 

You straddled it before he could move, grinding the heat of you against it, soaking it with the remnants of your first orgasm that he hadn’t managed to lick away. He couldn’t help a groan, his hands falling to your hips and squishing the flesh there covetously between his long fingers, until he knew there would be marks there the next day. 

He secretly loved the idea of you walking around with his hands on you underneath your clothes, going about your day while he continued to cling to what was his. As his own jaw fell open from his tip pressing against you, he planted a spell on your skin, making it so tomorrow you would abruptly be transported to exactly this moment whenever your clothes brushed the marks. And a little something on his end, too, so he would feel it in his gut whenever you had to relive it in front of whoever else was in the room.

He already couldn’t wait to hear about it when you got home from work. He’d have to fight not to grin like a cat that got the cream the whole time.

His hands still guiding your hips, you began to settle onto him, having to stop every so often to breathe and try to relax so you could slide further down. 

Even if he wasn’t a bit of an outlier - which he was, he’d gathered that through word of mouth over the last century or so - you were just so delicate. It was almost precious, how you had to breathe deep before you could keep him in you. How he had to coax and kiss and plead while your lip trembled and your voice hitched, so he could have you from the inside out.

He hoped he ruined you for other people. It was selfish. He could own that.

But he salivated over the idea that after all the fussing and whispers and pushing, anything less than him would leave you achingly empty.

“You’re doing so well, doll,” he murmured, tracing the skin of your ribs, watching you bite your lip and tears threaten at your lashes as your body fought to hold him in. “Come on, angelface, you can take more. I know you can.”

“I’ve told you, you’re big for me,” you protested, the tears creeping into your voice now. “It takes - ah- time.”

“I know, precious, but you’re such a sweetheart to be so… accommodating.” He pushed himself up so he could wrap his arms around your waist, kissing lightly at your shoulders, along your collarbone. He rolled his hips against yours, which caused an open-mouthed whimper to escape you. “Please, I just want to give a good doll what they deserve. Make sure they have sweet dreams.”

You took another breath, your hands sliding up his chest and resting on his shoulders. He kissed up one side of your neck as he felt you try to relax around him, push yourself down further onto his shaft.

He lingered there, kissing your pulse, the soft skin above your chest, letting you take your time. He traced a fingertip up and down the column of your spine, gathering the small beads of sweat he found there and rubbing them into the tooth marks that creature had left in his fingers.

He felt the wounds close as you shifted in his lap, and he had to fight not to let his hips move against the feeling. He didn’t want to hurt you so much that it wasn’t fun anymore, after all.

“…Do you want help?” he asked after a moment, using his nose to push your hair away so he could nuzzle your cheek. “Just a little?”

You were panting slightly, and for a brief second, he wondered if he’d played his hand too early and worn you out —

But then you nodded, and he grinned.

He took your chin in his hand, turning your head to shove his tongue in your mouth, make sure you could taste yourself. You were ravenous, your nails already catching at his shoulders, his upper arms. You were receptive, he could work with that.

He manhandled you again as he moved to his knees, pushing you back against your mattress but keeping your hips parallel. He returned your thighs to his shoulders, leaving you nearly bent double underneath him. “Okay?”

You nodded mutely, and he settled his hips against yours, enjoying the push there of your flesh against his pelvic bone.

“Alright, we’re going to go slow,” he soothed. He kept almost nose to nose with you, pushing his hips up and into yours, having to bite his lip to muffle a moan at the resistance. 

He heard you hiss underneath him, felt you writhe against it, your mouth falling open again with soft little pants.

He pushed into you with an aching slowness even as you began to whine, only stopping when your hand suddenly came to rest against his chest — your agreed upon signal. He had to mask his frustration, almost teeth-gnashingly close to being all the way inside the heat of your tight cunt.

“Good hurt or bad hurt?” he whispered, his dark eyes searching your face even as yours were squeezed closed. When you looked like that, it could go either way, and both left him with a certain kind of hunger.

You caught your breath, your eyes eventually opening to meet his, and you nodded once. “Good,” you said, your voice only a touch unsteady.

He grinned, and the lightning outside made it flash in the dark. “That’s my baby.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Hang in there for me, we’re so close.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath, and your hands settled again between his shoulder blades. “Come on,” you urged, tentatively rocking your hips against his.

Well. If you insisted.

Seth pushed you back into a full mating press, slamming his hips against yours to at last have you completely. He heard you cry out, but felt your nails dig into his skin, your legs lock around his hips even as they shook.

Bracing himself against your mattress, he didn’t bother to hold back, feeling the way your cunt drooled and coated him down to the base even as you repeated his name as a plea, then as a sob. 

But your hips moved against his, you were just as greedy, and he felt himself grinning at just how feral you felt in turn.

He was pleasantly surprised, even, when you shoved your hands hard enough against his chest to push him over. You moved with him so you were on top again, your hands pinning him now as you rode him into the mattress.

Seth actually laughed through his groan, and he watched with wide eyes as you fucked yourself on him, your voice less a sob now and bordering on a breathless cry.

He watched you come again, and your nails digging into his chest were what sent him over. He fucked his own orgasm up into you as you shivered, coming down from yours, and when you finally collapsed onto the mattress next to him, he made a point to push you onto your back to pin you beneath him. He ground against you with the last of his aftershocks, licking the sweat from your neck, kissing your swollen lips with a marked greed.

It was only then that you made a noise of concern, pulling back slightly to reach up between you. “Is that blood?” You swiped your hand against his lip, finding the last remnant of the cut there from earlier. You looked at him, eyes wide. “Seth, did you get hurt?”

He laughed, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes as he looked at your sweet face. “No, angel, don’t worry. I just bit it earlier, when I got frustrated during rehearsal.”

You frowned, tracing the spot again with your finger. “Are you sure you can’t work with someone who, like… gets your vision?” Your eyes met his, and he’d almost swear his chest fluttered. You were so keen to take his side, it was adorable. “Is it worth trying to make it work with jerks who can’t appreciate you?”

“Oh, doll face.” Seth chuckled, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your mouth in slow succession. He lingered a while on the last, enjoying the taste of you on your own lips, the way you echoed the orgasm he gave you back to him. 

You bit down on his, reopening the wound, and he didn’t miss how your eyes glinted in another lightning flash from the window.

There was a fierceness in you yet, and he would be the one to pull it into the open.

He pulled away, his tongue grazing the wound as he saw you lick the blood of your lower lip. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He kissed your forehead again, then brought you down to the mattress with him, running a hand over your hair. “They’ll see it my way. I can promise you that.”

You were sleeping on his chest only minutes after, drained in more ways than one.

In the dark of your room, he decided having a human consort as a new necromancer would just be something that They Who Provide would have to accept.

If the Morvants could flout the rules, he didn’t see why he couldn’t break just one, after all.

Epilogue:

Down the second darkest hallway on the second floor, and in the furthest bedroom, Rora was curled in a out-of-place wingback chair that sported the telltale bleached white fabric of Mathilde’s sick room. It had clearly been dragged from there and shoved, with no small difficulty, into the corner closest to the head of the antique wooden bed –

Where Hector had lain in the center, in clean pajamas and perfectly motionless, for the last seventy-two hours. Breathing, but only just, eyes closed to the world.

That uncomfortable too-comfortable look of someone on the precipice of the Veil.

Standing guard next to him was an IV stand that Maxi had hustled up from the old séance room in the sub-basement, the metal part semi-rusty with disuse. Two bags of fluids were rigged to a hastily-set port in his elbow, now nearly empty, but with regular alarms on Maxi’s phone to come and change them out.

In her hand, Rora scolled through a phone of her own that she still barely wanted to touch, looking through her own history of search engine queries:

Hit by lightning no hospital

Cardiorespiratory arrest symptoms

Barotrauma definition

Acoustic injury definition

Intracranial hemorrhage definition

Keraunoparalysis definition

Dyspnea definition

Hit by lightning direct strike coma

Hit by lightning direct strike coma how long

Hit by lightning direct strike coma how long NO AI

She was typing yet another - Fucking hit by lightning direct strike no hospital coma goddammit - when Hector sitting bolt upright and sucking in as much air as his lungs could hold made her drop the phone entirely.

“Oh, shit!” She threw herself out of the chair and onto the mattress, holding him upright while he sputtered and coughed.

“Just breathe,” she begged, resting his back against her chest and doing her best not to squeeze him against her heart like she wanted to. “Just breathe, Hex, breathe for me.”

“I– Que?” Hector looked over his shoulder in her direction, speaking in between hacking coughs.

“Breathe,” Rora repeated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Ow, what?” Hex winced, shrugging her off a little and turning further to see her– but then suddenly seizing the sheets and leaning hard to his left. “What the fuck, why am I dizzy?”

“I don’t know, hold on,” Rora jumped to her feet, trying to support him before he leaned too far and fell off.

“Girl, oh my god, quit mumbling and help me, would you?” Hector was beginning to sound a bit frantic, continuing to fall sideways despite trying to right himself. “Holy shit, why do I feel weird? What’s wrong with gravity?”

“Goddammit, Hex, hold still!” Rora was crouching next to him to keep him away from the floor, trying to push him back onto the mattress even as he keeled over. “Sit up, will you?”

“No, you shut up!” Hector said, hurt creeping into his voice. “I already feel like I got hit by a fucking truck, don’t tell me to shut up!”

“I’m not– just– MAXI!” Rora yelled towards the door, trying to pull Hector back onto the mattress even as Hector winced.

“What fucking taxi?!” Hector moaned. “We’re inside, I know because the room keeps spinning!”

The sudden rushing of feet up two flights of stairs served as a soundtrack to the two dangerously teetering and un-teetering towards the edge of the bed, Rora trying to keep Hector still even as he was seemingly drawn towards the floor, mumbling in English and Spanish that he felt sick and wanted off the ride.

When the door flung itself open, Maxi was out of breath and in his embalming scrubs, with his mask, gloves, and face shield in a trail on the floor behind him. “Okay, I’m here, what’s happ–”

He paused, analyzing the strange pulling backwards and forwards of the other two. “Are you… throttlin’ him slowly?”

“Would you help me?!” Rora snapped, glaring at him. “He keeps falling over!”

“Okay, okay, one sec!” Maxi ran over to Hector’s other side, helping support him from there. “Like this?”

“Nope, no, don’t like it,” Hector shook his head, sounding miserable and making a sound like he was about to be sick. “Down, would like to get down please.”

“Buddy, you’re in bed,” Maxi said gently, keeping Hector’s shoulder propped against his chest. “Where else you wanna go?”

“Flat.” Hector fell forward some more, trying to get there himself. “I wanna be flat.”

“Oh, so he can hear you fine,” Rora grumbled.

“What?” Hector turned to look at her, then made another retching sound. “No, stop talking, make me stop moving first.”

“We’re not moving!” The twins said in unison, shooting each other a perplexed look from either side of their cousin.

“Well, somebody either make it stop, or give me the good drugs so I don’t care about it anymore!” Hector snapped.

After some quick geometry of moving bodies, and trying to find a direction that didn’t make him want to puke, Hector was laying flat on his bed with his head facing the left side of the mattress, one ear pressed against a hot water bottle that Maxi had run to fetch from the now only semi-haunted bathroom between their bedrooms.

The twins were seated on the floor on either side of his head, Rora holding an antique porcelain washbasin that was now entirely for being sick in, and Maxi flipping through his own phone with a slight frown.

“…Yeah, bud, I think he blew clear through your eardrum,” he said at last, looking back around at Hector. “But I might be able to get it to fix itself, if you can lay still for a few days.”

“Cool,” Hector mumbled, looking sick and annoyed at the same time. “Perfecto. Love that for me.”

“Could be worse,” Rora said, shooting Hector a dark look. “We thought you were dead for a hot minute there.”

“Girl, I thought I was dead. Abuelita thought I was dead, too, I was over there all of a sudden with the white light and shit and she was like ‘Mais la, child, it’s not your time, you!’” Hector said, in an oddly accurate impression of their Cajun grandmere despite his own accent. “God. Who the fuck drops a whole fucking lightning bolt on somebody?” he went on, frowning as he nuzzled his head further into the warm container before adopting an expression eerily close to Seth’s. “He’s all 'Ooh, look at me, I can summon the weather, I can prove all the conservative nutjobs right and act real smug about it with my stupid hair.’”

“He does have stupid hair,” Rora agreed, she and Maxi nodding.

“Too much product,” Maxi added, wrinkling his nose. “It looks like he’s keepin’ things in it. Like toothpicks, or mints, or spare change.”

At this, Rora snorted, elbowing her brother.

“I can’t believe I got my ass handed to me by a guy who still wears too much hair gel in 2025,” Hector groaned in frustration, lightly punching the mattress.

“No, that was pomade,” Maxi said, looking around. “Historically, it precedes gel by–”

“Don’t care,” Hector and Rora said in perfect unison, at which Maxi only rolled his eyes.

“Hey man, you’re the one who got your ass beat by a fuckin’ stage magician,” he pointed out, nudging the side of Hex’s head as gently as he could.

“Hijo de puta, you’re right,” Hector said, shaking his head as much as he could while Rora burst into a wild cackle. “I knew he had a weird vibe, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Ugh, fuck, that just makes it worse.”

“'For my next trick, I will hand this man his own ass by zapping him like a fucking bug,’” Rora said in an impression of their foe’s dulcet tones, which caused Maxi to burst into a manic giggle.

“You watch,” Maxi added, barely managing to get the words out. “He’s gonna be out there on the front lawn like 'Is this your card?’ before he slaps you with it.”

“Hey, fuck you both,” Hector said, with no real venom in it as the twins broke down laughing again. “He was just taking out the only real competition; at least he’s smart enough to do that.”

“Bitch, please, you wish,” Rora said, but also with no real conviction.

For a moment, the three of them sat in silence – Rora leaning her head on the mattress, Maxi staring up at the ceiling, Hex moving his head as best he could to lay equidistant between them without spiraling all over again.

“…So that’s a new problem, I guess,” Hex said quietly, breaking the silence after a long pause.

“Fuck 'im,” Maxi said, just as quiet. He kept his gaze on the ceiling, though some exhaustion was beginning to creep into the corners of his eyes. “People before us dealt with assholes like that back when.”

“Look at you, being all historical about it,” Rora said, lifting her head just enough to see her brother around her cousin. “Normally, you hate doing what anyone else did.”

“Yeah, well.” Maxi shrugged, then turned to look at his cousin and his sister. “We got enough goin’ on without some showboatin’ asshole comin’ in to make a mess. If we have precedent to put his ass on the backburner, I say we take it.”

Rora shrugged back, playing with a bit of Hector’s hair. “Fair.”

Maxi sighed, long and tired, before turning his eyes specifically to Hector between them. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“He’s not allowed to not be okay,” Rora mumbled, twirling the strand of hair around her finger now. “He knows that.”

Hector smirked at Maxi, shrugging. “You heard the lady.” He still winced even at the slight movement, resettling on the hot water bottle. “So, what else did that asshole do to me?”

“Not much, from what I can tell.” Maxi sighed, getting to his feet with a crack of his knees and his own wince.

“Old,” Hector said, pointing a finger at Maxi from where he lay.

“Old,” Rora agreed with a nod.

“Man, shut up, you’re older than me.” Maxi reached down, swatting Hector so gently it barely counted. He looked at Hector’s IV bags, sighing again. “I gotta change those out just to make sure you stay hydrated, maybe keep you on 'em another day or two. We’ll see how your ear’s doin’ after three.” He put his hands on his hips, looking around as though cataloguing what needed doing in the room… before looking down at Hector’s shirt. “You might look and see if you, like… have any marks or anything.”

“What, you didn’t look when you were taking my clothes off?” Hector joked, looking up at him.

“Your clothes were practically smolderin’, I was just tryin’ to make sure your ass wasn’t burnt to a crisp,” Maxi said with a frown.

Hector lay there a moment, thinking, before looking back to Maxi and hopefully opening his mouth to ask a question.

“Fuck, yes, fine, I’ll go put some bacon on,” Maxi sighed, turning and heading for the door. “I hate that I knew what you were thinkin’.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Rora said, sitting up to watch him leave. “I’m ravenous.”

Hector turned to look at her, slowly and carefully not to set himself off again. “What, you haven’t eaten?”

“No, dumbass,” Rora said, nudging him just as gently. “Someone had to sit here and make sure you were still breathing.”

“Oh, please,” Hector rolled his eyes – or tried to, before he realized it would be a bad idea. “I can handle a little lightning, I’m tougher than that.”

“Sure.” Rora rolled hers in return, laying her head back down next to his on the edge of the mattress. “Just don’t make it a habit. I don’t need you lightin’ up like a Christmas tree whenever we get too close to magnets, or somethin’.”

Hector chuckled, wincing despite himself. “That is not at all how any of that works.”

“Shut up,” Rora mumbled, but grinned still. “You’re annoying enough with the powers you have, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, that’s totally what you meant.” Hector stuck his tongue out at her, then paused, laying there for a moment as he seemed to think something through.

“…Do you want me to check for you?” Rora asked, sounding almost bored by the idea.

“Just my shirt,” Hex said, frowning. “I don’t know how far I can tilt my head without feeling gross again.”

“Yeah, okay. Hold on.” Rora stood up, her own knees popping loudly. “Hush,” she said immediately, cutting off Hector’s smirk with a glare.

There was an awkward moment while she knelt on the bed next to him, rolling up the hem of his shirt to check his stomach while he stared at the ceiling –

…And then a pause, while she rolled it up further.

“What?” Hector said, his gaze immediately finding hers.

Rora sat there with her lips pursed. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Hector groaned, closing his eyes. “Is it gnarly?”

“No,” Rora said, snapping a photo with her phone.

She held it where Hector could see it comfortably, and for a moment, he stared, his eyes roving over the image.

“…Fuck,” he mumbled at last, his brow furrowed. “That looks sick as hell. Goddammit.”

“And the guy you got it from totally sucks,” Rora agreed, nodding. “Sorry, Hexie.”

“Fuck,” Hector repeated, staring at the ceiling again – only to look confused when he heard Rora’s phone make a 'sent message’ whooshing sound. “Wait, what’d you do with that–”

A second later, Rora received a text, and she checked it instantly. “'Unfortunately, it does in fact look sick as hell,’” she read in a monotone, then showed him the message itself.

Hector squinted at it, then sighed. “Maxi’s only saying that because now he’s not the only one with a scar.”

Rora received another message, and read aloud, “'And I’m not just saying that because I’m the only one with a chest scar.’” She looked down at Hector, shrugging. “Take that as you will.”

“Fuck.” Hector picked up his pillow, covering his face with it. “I fucking hate that fucking weather boy."

if you made it this far, I hope your next thunderstorm is an exceptionally pleasant one. <3