#the gender vibes are excellent

[andthebeanstalk]

What up I'm married to a tall person who is basically Milo Thatch but agender, and uhhh, basically, yeah, everyone should be jealous and I LOVE MY CUTE TWINK NERD WIFE!!!!! 😤😤🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤👌👌

[snowshinobi]

thinkin bout the time I joked "being a losergirl is like. my aesthetic" and cos politely responded "you should consider other aesthetics"

[blameitontheanon]

Don’t mind me, I’m just getting emotional about the (parasocially projected) potential of this dinner table.

[sunflowerrboyy]

watching bill and ted for the first time

[mstase]

— VENUS ASPECTS & your attractive features 🦢

these are just based on my observations and experience. don’t take it seriously, and take what resonates. [more applicable with the easy aspects]

☀️ sun-venus: you have an easygoing and likeable aura that makes it easy for people to connect with you. your sincere love for making connections with others is evident, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. the natural charm you possess is a noticeable aspect of your personality, adding to your social popularity. when interacting with others, you show tolerance and acceptance, always striving to maintain a harmonious environment for everyone. also, your graceful manner and excellent sense of style are prominent, leaving a lasting impression on people you come across.

🌙 moon-venus: you have a motherly, comforting energy, regardless of gender. you are kind and nurturing, making the atmosphere around you calm and peaceful. there’s something unique about how you make others feel safe and cared for, showing that you naturally understand and respond to their needs. you are known for being warm and loving, making connections with others through friendliness and genuine affection. you work hard to have positive relationships, and your charming personality makes others feel comfortable around you effortlessly.

🗣️ mercury-venus: you have a calming voice, and you’re skilled at speaking with the right words and have a good sense of how language flows. your way of communicating is marked by being polite and diplomatic, and you express your ideas thoughtfully. your sociable nature and excellent social skills make it easy for you to connect with others. also, your artistic talents are evident, and you’re good at giving compliments and advice. your expertise in literary works adds depth to your communication skills, making you a well-rounded and engaging communicator.

🔥 mars-venus: your allure goes beyond mere appearance; it’s genuinely charming. the way you move, whether it’s dancing or engaging in sports, adds to your appeal. you possess a pleasing figure and athletic prowess, showcasing noticeable muscles. your enthusiasm for connecting with others shows a vibrant and fun-loving personality. adventure is a constant companion as you actively seek it out. there’s a natural inclination for artistic endeavors in you, passionately engaging with them. overall, there’s an intriguing quality about you that captures attention, making you popular.

⭐ jupiter-venus: your upbeat and friendly personality has a way of making people feel drawn to your positive energy. you warmly welcome others with your generous and honest nature, and your big-heartedness leads you to give a lot to those you care about. what makes you even more charming is your great sense of humor and love for fun, which make you naturally attractive to those in your social circle. your ability to share positivity and connect with others, combined with your giving nature, creates strong and memorable bonds with the people around you.

🪐 saturn-venus: you carry yourself with composure and respect in your interactions, demonstrating maturity and creating a sense of security for others. people place their trust in you due to your reliable and grounded nature. you are loyal and dedicated, making you a trustworthy and committed person. your sense of elegance and sophistication is evident in your appreciation for aesthetics and good taste. there is a blend of grace and softness in your beauty, marking you with a distinctive and appealing charm that sets you apart.

🌀 uranus-venus: your natural inclination for spontaneity and unpredictability brings a lively and dynamic vibe to those around you. this ability to embrace the unexpected not only keeps things interesting but also injects excitement and different perspectives into situations. your love for change is another aspect of your character, enabling you to infuse a sense of freshness into people and spark their curiosity about you. your personality, marked by its erratic nature, adds to an electrifying and eye-catching presence, making you stand out easily.

🌊 neptune-venus: you are a talented person who thrives in a variety of creative pursuits. your gentle and kind nature has a calming impact on those around you. imagination and sensitivity play crucial roles in shaping your character as you perceive the world through a dreamy and idealistic lens, consistently recognizing the best in everyone. your compassionate and empathetic nature makes you approachable, and you often go out of your way to help others. your energy is particularly captivating, exuding a soft and tender beauty that reflects your personality.

🕷️ pluto-venus: your character is marked by passion and depth, as you wholeheartedly give, creating an unforgettable presence. your intensity is palpable, and your emotions resonate strongly, impacting not only yourself but also those you encounter. you may naturally come across as upfront and confident, leaving a strong impression on others. your distinct and captivating features shine, especially when embracing a fierce and darker style. very charming; there’s a magnetic quality about you, surrounded by an aura of mystery that captivates and entices those around you.

[abyssal-debonair]

“Masculinity and patriarchy are one in the same” is one of the ideological pillars of patriarchy. It frames masculinity as something that can only be affirmed via a dominance relation and renders all forms of counter-hegemonic masculinity invisible. Ceding that territory to patriarchy only serves to erase the butches, trans mascs, trans men, nonbinary people, etc. who explore and live out subversive forms of masculinity. We would be far better served by understanding masculinity as something that patriarchy attempts to capture, rather than something it inherently owns, therefore shifting our understanding of masculinity away from seeing it as a component of the enemy and towards understanding it as continuously contested territory. Patriarchy attempts to enclose masculinity, rigidly define it, tie it to domination and control, and punishes all unsanctioned expressions of it. This capture is not inherent nor is it complete. Trans and gnc people have been undermining that project since it began! Many of the positions explored above take for granted that masculinity is a real and consistently definable phenomena: invented, made material, and defined by patriarchy alone. They assume that patriarchy’s word on masculinity has been the only real word, cis men’s understanding of it the only real understanding of it, its deployment in rigid gender roles its only possible manifestation. Cis men have been at the wheels of centralized power and thus have had more means to make their own voices drown out the rest of us, but subversive masculinities have always been here, have always been a threat to the patriarchal narrative. Many also assume that when queer and trans people refer to masculinity we are always referring to a masculinity that at least gains its meaning from patriarchy. It is time to inform you that your imagination up until this point has been disastrously stifled. Certainly, popular conceptualizations of hegemonic masculinity are inherently patriarchal and gain their meaning from that system. However, it is too far to assume that trans people are always referring to the same framework of masculinity that cis men do. We create our own meaning even as we expand masculinity to the point of meaninglessness. I take testosterone and am seeking top surgery to affirm my womanhood. Glitter, dramatic eyeliner, platform boots, and extremely slutty deep-V shirts validate my sense of my masculinity as much as work boots and button-ups do. Some of us are simply not referring to patriarchal masculinity when we are doing masculinity and what we’re doing is not new. Not only is masculinity not inherently patriarchal: masculinity is not inherently anything at all! Masculinity, femininity, and all gendered terms are vibes-based only and vibes are always changing with people and context! They are not real! Their utility is in play and self-exploration and any insistence of inherent reality beyond that will itself necessarily refer to patriarchy.

read the entire essay by Lee Shevek (@butchanarchy) — she does an excellent job breaking down the problem with conflating masculinity with patriarchy, especially how that leads to vilifying masculine people who are harmed by the patriarchy.

[hillbillyoracle]

For those with home related New Years Resolutions:

I’ve been a disabled homemaker for 5 years now so I wanted to share the resources that have helped me take our home from complete chaos to reasonably functional and enjoyable.

If you’re not functioning...

If you’re constantly tripping over things and getting injured, eating food that makes you sick, dealing with pests in the home, and struggling to complete basic tasks like feeding, clothing, and bathing yourself, then you should start with...

KC Davis aka StruggleCare aka DomesticBlisters

TikTok

Book

Podcast

Website

I recommend KC Davis’s stuff with a big heaping dose of “keep what works and leave what doesn’t.” She’s one of the few people I’ve seen talking about compassionate care focused on maintaining a level of personal functioning rather than maintaining a home. Her stuff has been very helpful to me during some very challenging times. 

I think her some of her best work is probably her videos on the 5 step tidying process, the ones on setting up bedside hygiene and food kits, and the ones on dealing with DOOM (Didn’t Organize Only Moved) boxes. 

That being said she has a tendency to use neurotype as a shield for not reckoning with other dynamics in a situation (gendered, narcissism, etc) when asked for advice by viewers which can lead to this “all people with neurodivergence are good” vibe which I find off putting (especially as an autistic person). I mention it because her bleh stuff was all I was coming across and I missed out on her good stuff for a while. It’s worth picking through though. 

Her book is a little better on the whole. 

If you’re functioning but still very overwhelmed...

If you can complete your daily activities of living pretty regularly but you’re still losing papers you need, rebuying items you didn’t realize you had, or looking around your home at a mess that feels impossible to clean, then check out...

Dana K White aka A Slob Comes Clean

YouTube

Website

Podcast

Books

I love Dana K. White’s stuff. Honestly, I recommend her to every level on this list but I think she probably shines brightest in this category. 

Her 5 step decluttering process is pure fucking gold. It’s a decluttering process that doesn’t rely on feelings at all - really helpful for those with trauma or alexthymia generally. She has multiple videos explaining it and even more where you can watch her go step by step with someone over the course of an hour and make a huge dent in some very overwhelming mess. Its the process I’ve used to go through over 50 moving boxes to declutter so we could fit in this much smaller space we moved to in April. 

Her day to day cleaning advice is also excellent. Her concept of dishes math has really helped me make decisions about what chores to focus on when I’m low energy. Her 14 Days to Opening Your Front Door series is amazing if you’re having to host for a given occasion but your home is a wreck. 

If you’re not painfully overwhelmed by your stuff but there’s still a lot of friction in your home...

If your stuff doesn’t overwhelm you but your home still doesn’t feel that good to be in, you’re still not finding things when you need to or it’s taking you a long time to find them, you create homes for things but they look terrible or they never seem to stick, then you’d love...

Cassandra Aarssen aka Clutterbug

YouTube

Books

Website

Podcast

Clutterbug types were kind of a game changer for me. It’s what really opened my eyes to why the systems that worked for me did not work for my partner. She is a Bee - lots of small categories that are all very visible - and I am a ladybug - big bucket categories that aren’t visible. When I reorganized our space according to the compromise between our types, Butterfly - big categories and very visible - all of a sudden the systems just worked so much better. There were many fewer fights sparked by things not getting put away or not being able to find things. So I really recommend her videos on the different types and examples of each. 

Quick word of warning, she does have regular videos about diet and exercise that I personally find pretty triggering to my disordered eating habits so I’m not subscribed to her and just check her channels every now and then so it’s easier to skip over videos where that might be a topic she talks about. 

Cliff Tan aka Dear Modern

TikTok

YouTube

Website

Book

Cliff Tan’s work is the most recent of these resources that I’ve come across but holy shit I cannot recommend it enough. 

Because my parents didn’t originally intend on my partner using the room she wound up using, there’s simply not space to keep some of the furniture and items in there anywhere else. Meaning she just kind of has to keep a fair bit of junk in there. But after watching (read: binging) the Dear Modern YouTube channel and seeing him completely change spaces by moving furniture around, I redid my partners room over the course of about 2 hours and it’s a completely different room. Way more comfortable and she’s already mentioned she’s getting much better sleep. 

So I really really recommend his stuff. Sometimes what you really need isn’t new stuff but just rearranging what you already have. 

If you’re pretty content with your home but want to streamline the process of caring for it...

If your home is pretty functional but regular tidying, deep cleaning, and maintenance tasks specifically keep falling through the cracks, then you might like...

FlyLady System

Website

The Secret Slob - YouTube

Diane in Denmark - YouTube

There are lots of systems out there for house keeping but I’ve yet to try or see one that seems to do better than FlyLady for me. Since with my illness my energy varies wildly, I don’t necessarily do things when her system recommends but I do them according to the priority her system ascribes to them as I’m able. 

FlyLady is a notoriously convoluted website so I really recommend learning from a secondhand source. The Secret Slob and Diane in Denmark are my favorites. 

Maintenance Lists

This Old House

There a lots of maintenance lists out there and honestly finding one and doing what you can is better than nothing. I personally like the ones from This Old House because they’re broken up into annual, seasonal, monthly, and some weekly tasks - which are essentially priority categories, similar to FlyLady. I’ve linked the winter one here but there are many others to pick through depending on what you want to work on. 

Bonus: Paper Clutter

My System

Link

This is what I’ve arrived at after years of experimentation. It’s an amalgam of a few different ideas from different systems in one place. I keep mind on my fridge but put yours where ever you’re dumping paper anyways. If you’re in a room or live in a car/backpack - I have ideas on how to organize it for those in this post too. 

Sunday Basket

YouTube Video

The Minimal Mom’s Video

She’s in Her Apron Video

Need something a little more robust? The Sunday Basket is probably be best version of a paper (and other stuff) system I’ve seen. Got something that needs dealt with? Chuck it in the Sunday Basket. The creator also has videos on long term paper storage ideas if that’s something you need as well. But her videos usually run an hour long so I recommend starting with either the Minimal Mom’s video or She’s in Her Apron’s video. 

Bonus: Digital Clutter

PARA System/Building a Second Brain by Tiago Forte

YouTube Channel

Website

Book

Essential Video

The branding on this system can be very productivity tech wonk which is off putting to me but when I finally started hearing what was at the core of it and applying it - my digital life was changed. I’ve linked my absolute favorite video he’s done here. Ignore the bit about it being the last in the series, most of us are already using some note app and if you like it you can always go back and watch the rest. But just applying what’s in that video to your digital systems will make things easier to find. 

Hope this helps someone out there! 

[writerblue275]

Ranking the Heartsteel members from least to most romantic (with some explanation).

Inspiration: A post from @strawberrydoesthings discussing the fact that (confirmed by Riot via Twitter) Sett is the best cook in the group. Not that I didn’t think Sett could be romantic beforehand, because I ABSOLUTELY thought he could be, but this definitely got me thinking about who in the group being romantic comes easy to.

Genre: Ranking? First time I’m doing this style so we’ll see how it goes!

Category: Fluff

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader

TW: Swearing

Important context: I fully believe all Heartsteel members have the ability to be romantic for their partners. So even those I rank “lower” could definitely still make your heart flutter. It just might come more naturally for others.

Least

- Ezreal

Ez’s vibe is a little….chaotic? I just can’t see most romantic gestures being a natural everyday thing for him, and definitely not at the beginning of your relationship.

But I do believe that he’d really make an effort for you on special days (birthdays, Valentine’s Day, etc…). It’s clear to me Ezreal is a very passionate person. And when he has an occasion or a person to focus all that passion on, he doesn’t half-ass things (especially when it comes to you).

LOTS of planning and stress though because he doesn’t want to disappoint you. He’d definitely ask the members and Alune for their opinions on things.

The first time he asked for their opinions, everyone stared at him for a few seconds in surprise because they truly weren’t expecting it. Then of course they helped him plan you the best surprise party!

One small romantic gesture I do think Ezreal would be very good at is playing with his partner’s hair (if his partner is cool with that of course). I feel like he needs something for his hands to fidget with at almost all times (fucking mood). He’d love brushing your hair and, if it’s long enough, braiding it.

- Kayn

Kayn is another member who has a bit more of a chaotic vibe. Definitely can’t see him surprising you randomly with your favorite flowers or slipping little notes into your pockets.

BUT!! I do think Kayn’s another member who would really send it on special occasions. Like when this man goes all out, he goes ALL! OUT!

Fully have a headcanon that one of Kayn’s love languages is physical touch (both giving and receiving). So if you’re someone who likes physical contact, this is a way he’ll inject a little romance in day-to-day life.

I’m talking hand holding, arm around your waist, hand in your back pocket while you two are in line, hand on your thigh while he’s driving, or a shoulder massage if you’re really tense (why do I think he’d be so good at those omg). And there’s also another reason he likes to have contact with you at all times.

He’s sweetly very protective of you. Definitely NOT in a toxic way (fuck toxic relationships), but in a “fans of my profession don’t always take the news of a relationship the best. And while I’m not hiding you, I’m definitely not letting anything happen to you,” way. Along with physical contact he’d do things like walk on the sidewalk side closer to the road if you’re walking with him. (Old-school rule I know but I still find it very sweet.)

- Aphelios

I feel like Aphelios hasn’t had a lot of relationships in his past. So it’s not that he’s unromantic, he’s just a bit inexperienced at the start of your relationship.

I don’t think he is necessarily the “big showstopper romantic gesture” kinda guy, but he’ll show tf out for you on special occasions. (Song just for you, anyone? Can you imagine the lyrics he’d come up with? I’m melting! 😩)

The quiet ones are always the most perceptive (#1)! And our man Phel is hyper perceptive when it comes to those he loves. And of course he loves YOU.

He would really excel in the small day-to-day romantic gestures department like sweet good morning and good night texts without fail (and regardless of the time zone he’s in).

Aphelios definitely LOVES how your face lights up when you find the sweet little notes he snuck into your pocket or bag. And how delighted you get when he randomly brings home your favorite takeout for dinner. And when you sent him a text thanking him for the beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers he had delivered to you? He literally fist pumped and surprised the hell out of Sett.

- K’Sante

(I know he uses the yellow heart on his tweets but TUMBLR doesn’t have that so pink it is.)

I’m gonna start sounding like a god damn broken record, but I get such amazing vibes from Heartsteel K’Sante. He’d be a truly excellent life partner. Great listener, gives great advice when you ask for it, and knows when you just need to vent your frustration out.

Life with him would be safe, but never boring!You know where he’d thrive when it comes to romance? He’d be excellent at spontaneous romantic gestures.

Dancing/kisses in the rain/snow, turning chores around the apartment into a little dance party/jam session (mentioned in my first headcanon), or buying you flowers randomly because they made him think of you, are some things I think K’Sante would truly excel at. His ways of showing romance would be sincere, but fun.

The KING of spontaneous dates. Stuff like driving to the middle of nowhere to star gaze/have snacks or a picnic or driving up to a random out look because he heard the view of the city at night was amazing. (Spoiler alert: It absolutely was.)

I think K’Sante loves spontaneous gestures even more than full out planning things for you. It doesn’t give him a chance to overthink things!

(A/N: Holy shit deciding how to order these final two was WAY WAY harder than I anticipated. I switched them multiple times and honestly I feel like either could go #1.)

- Sett

Please repeat after me because I’ve said it before: “Mama didn’t raise Sett to be a jackass of a partner.” This man has damn good manners. Car door, opened for you. Your seat, pushed in once you’re sat. Walking w/ him on the sidewalk? He’s taking the side closer to the street.

And ESPECIALLY now that we know he’s the best cook in the group?? Oh my god I think soft Domestic!Sett is a go!! Fully believe acts of service (giving) is one of his love languages.

Due to his schedule, it’s very likely he’s out the door before you in the mornings but even then, he’ll always make sure to set up another pot of coffee/hot chocolate/boiling water for tea so that it’s ready for you when you start your day.

Always has a designated date night with you every week. Doesn’t matter if he’s on tour! Discord/FaceTime exists as do watch parties on streaming platforms. Fuck distance, all that matters to him is spending quality time with you in some way.

And I really think he’d be excellent at planning bigger romantic gestures for his partner. He loves you and he has no issues showing that fact off. (Could absolutely see him getting a tattoo that symbolizes you. Especially one that you help him design so it’s even more meaningful.)

- Yone

I don’t care what sort of scowl-y and hard persona Yone presents to the public. With you? That’s your Koala. (Lmao I will die on the hill that he is secretly a cuddle FIEND. Fight a wall.)

He gives me low-key old-school “gentleman” vibes. Always holds the door open and will push your chair in once you’ve sat down at dinner. Will ALWAYS offer an arm for you to hold. Protective (not toxic) of you. And while he’s not scowl-y with you, this is where his public-facing demeanor can come in handy.

*Clears throat* THE QUIET ONES ARE ALWAYS THE MOST PERCEPTIVE (#2)!

Within a month or two of you starting your relationship Yone knows all your favorites. Will gladly surprise you with them at random times, or especially when he senses you need a pick-me-up. Another member who would write love notes and sneak them into places you’ll find them (I feel like he’s heavily involved in lyric writing so this man is a fucking POET).

His favorite way to grandly express his love for you is through music. He has a list of songs that make him think of you and he’s made a whole mix of them. Would surprise you with it and dance with you around the apartment. (Omg slow dancing around the living room with Yone sounds so cute! 🥹) And little do you know but the very last song on the mix is an original he wrote all for you.

Most

As always, thank you so much for reading! I think I might need to do some more of these rankings because this was so much fun to write! I can definitely think of a few other ideas that would fit with this format!

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

hunny it was amazing but i do want a Dom gender neutral with sub brothers and over stimulating them~ your choice if you want to do it

Writing for all the brothers would be a pain in the ass so I'll just write for my favorites/the ones i have a very clear idea for!♡

Reader x Lucifer/Mammon/Leviathan

General Warnings: Overstimulation, butt stuff lol, double dick levi💪🏾

Section Specific Warnings: Handheld vibrators, bondage/Anal fingering and hand+blowjob, swallowing cum/Tons of cum, dildo usage

Lucifer

A chronic over worker. The moment you set eyes on him, you knew breaking him would be easy as-

One...

Two...

Three.

A sly smirk crossed your face as the eldest demon brother arched his back, eyes rolling and tongue lolling as he released a silent scream. His hands, stuck uselessly above his head, clawed at the mahogany frame of the bed, deep scratch marks accompanied by an ear-splitting noise almost covering the sound of his broken moans.

Almost.

As the final spurts of his fifth orgasm covered his torso, you drag the vibrator through the filth, up to his lips. Still cloudy minded, he licks his own fluids off the toy, and you laugh. "Faithful as a dog now aren't you? You'd wag if I asked right about now, huh?" Your laugh resembles a cackle this time; the ease of which you brought the avatar of pride to his knees is almost as amusing as the fearful look that unfogs his gaze when you turn the vibrator back on.

Slowly, you drag it down his lips, his neck. Unexpectedly, vibrant red swallows the black of his pupils, leaving two ruby like eyes gazing at you from beneath dark eyelashes wet with unshed tears. He gulps when you stop, right above his navel. The vibration slowly gets stronger; you boost it, one setting, then the next.

You dip ever so slightly lower.

He closes his eyes- you wish he wouldn't hide that excellent ruby color from you.

Another inch down, and it's powerful enough to reach the beginning of his cock now. He clenches his teeth, and you move slightly farther away as his wings begin to twitch more violently than before. Big as they are, getting hit with a feather or two is inevitable, but at this rate the whole wing would smack you in the face.

Its not a bad thing though- it's proof of his pleasure.

Teeth clenched so tightly they could break, you drag the vibe head in teasing circles around the base of his cock. The choked gasps drive you on as you watch his thighs twitch. His dick, spent as it is, still manages to produce tiny beads of precum that slide from his soft shaft onto the stained sheets.

Heavy breathing and the toy are the only sounds in the room.

'One last time, for good measure,' you think.

He seems to read your mind, and a panicked no turns into a screaming moan as you drag the max setting vibrator back up his cock, holding his stuttering hips down as you hold it to the head, letting precum splatter a bit more before he blanks, breaking the bindings that held him all this time in the process.

"N-no more. I under- fuck." It sounded suspiciously close to a weep.

You blink, rather innocently for your current position. "Do you really?" You twirl the toy in your hand.

A slurred flurry of yes's meet your ears, and you smile. "Wonderful." You tap his dick head again, all cheer and wonder now. "Now then, let's get you cleaned up! Shall we?♡"

Mammon

He finds it overstimulating when you so much as look at him. Touching him with purpose? He feels like he's-

"-gnna' die."

You stare up at him sweetly, the combination of two fingers in his ass dragging steadily over his sweetspot and you pumping him fast and hard making his legs a weak, shakey mess.

When you first sat him in your lap, a blush laid heavy in his cheeks. By now, the flush had spread to his quivering thighs, his leaking dick, everywhere you could and couldn't see. A glance at the clock behind him shows it's been an hour, and you smile.

Gaze drifting back to him, you say sweetly, "What was that, hon?"

He chokes on a moan, hips twitching up into your hand as another orgasm threatens to spill over. "I'm gonna die!"

You chuckle at his dramatics, but just in case, you check his body language.

Tanned skin slick with sweat and hot as a summer day pressed against you, close enough you could feel the push of his chest when he breathed. Short, heavy gasps on the shell of your ear sent shivers down your back. When you listened close, you could hear him whisper.

"Please, fuck, yes!"

Butterflies in your stomach. Your own eyes flutter shut, and you listen more. To his pleads for you to keep going, to the wet sound of him bouncing on your fingers, to the squeak of the couch that he'd drowned out long ago.

Fuck, he sounds so good. You need him- more of him.

"Louder, baby." You sound as breathless as he's left you.

He doesn't seem to hear you, though. In an effort to get his attention, you move to release him-

New found strength allows him to grasp your hand, his grip tight and desperate.

"No, no, no, no...." he cries, music to your ears, "please, please don't stop. I'm so close. I need you."

Emotion warps his voice, but you hear him perfectly clear. You chuckle, "If you still want more, I haven't fucked you hard enough yet." He gasps as you add a third finger.

He allows you to stop your administrations to lay him down, though not without whining.

Your eyelids flutter to halfmast, and in a voice silky and soft as the brand name clothes covered in his cum next to you, you say, "Watch me, Love."

He shivers.

Your tongue glides up his thigh, picking up some of the cum that sprayed there. Despite your directions, his eyes roll back as you lick his tip, and when you swallow him to base, his last thought before releasing down your throat is lost.

Leviathan

He's so easy to tease. Too easy, in fact. You've gotta catch him off guard, add a challenge to it! And while you're at it, why not add in a game?

"You're losing, Leviathan."

Headphones lost, controller strewn across the room somewhere, the game-loving demon had forgotten what game he was even supposed to be playing.

In your hand was a tentacle dildo, purple, long, and covered in rounded bumps that dragged against his tight walls in the most delicious way.

All fours in his tub, the drain was struggling to handle the massive amounts of cum his twin cocks produced. It had started to gain some height, his fingers being completely covered by this point. Each new shot splashed more onto the sweaty, exhausted demon's body.

"Did you hear me? I said, you're losing. For each loss-"

Cupping his throat, you drew his head backwards to look you in the eyes. The black of his pupils was void like, irises an unsettling orange ring around them that seemed to pulse with something dangerous. You swept his sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead, kissing the cleared spot and licking the salty taste from your lips. "-is another orgasm."

Fast; so fast you almost miss it, his pupils devour his irises total, and his tail unravels from his leg for your waist, damn near dragging you into the puddle of cum he sat in. His arms tremble hard and collapse as his cocks twitch once, twice, and release his heaviest load of the night. You watch with slitted eyes as his muscles spasm, enjoying the half-formed moans and squeaks that reach your ears.

Even as he cums, you don't stop your movement. Even as he sobs as his prostate is once again abused through his orgasm. The weak movement of his hips to meet your hand betray the fat tears that drip from beneath dark, pretty lashes.

You pause for the first time in what seems like hours, ignoring the desperate noise that leaves him as you get up.

Half formed thoughts wonder what you're doing, where you've went.

He's alerted of your return when you grasp his neck lightly to pull him up, leaving him sitting on the fat dildo you left inside him. "Here, Love. Play your game- your teammates were getting mad at you." He blinks slow, uncomprehending, before you put his controller in his hands. His sticky, cum-covered hands. He looks up at you again, at the smirk on your face, then back to the controller and the game being played.

And the only thing he can think is...

Fuck.

------

A/N: i had something planned for Belphie too, but i couldn't execute it the way i wanted:((( this turned out way longer than i expected in the end though. Maybe its cause im writing at my usual time again! (Cough two am cough) anyways, sorry for the wait @lazari-zalgoid but i hope you enjoy anyways♡ love yall, happy new years!!

Also the way i wrote these you'd think Mammon was my favorite lmaooo

Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡ and this isn't spell checked lol its two am

[ingravinoveritas]

Following up on this excellent post from @nightgoodomens, it really is astonishing to see so many people in the GO fandom misunderstanding the characters/personalities of Aziraphale and Crowley. While I by no means am against people having head canons or differing interpretations, it has become frustrating to see people pushing their ideas about Aziraphale and Crowley onto others and declaring them to be official canon, leaving no room for any kind of discussion.

One of the things spoken about in the above linked post is the denigrating of Crowley, which seems to be a near constant in the fandom at this point, particularly in relation to the "apology dance" scene. (Which, to be fair, is chock full of soft!Dom Aziraphale vibes--thank you, Michael Sheen.) What seems to keep getting missed is that the entire apology dance routine is something that Aziraphale and Crowley do to each other. There is just as much of a possibility that Crowley sat there with a similarly smug look on his face and let out a guttural, snakey "Very nice" when Aziraphale did the dance in the years he listed off, because they play this game together.

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is one of equals, and I think this is also something people seem to not understand well. It seems as though a lot of fans who project themselves onto Crowley want to be taken care of, and so they want to believe the same of Crowley, and that the reason he wants to be taken care of is because he is broken. But someone doesn't have to be broken to want someone to take care of them. Sometimes the people who are a shambles on the outside can be dominant, just as sometimes the most buttoned up, put together people can also be submissive. And sometimes the people who look in control on the outside can feel not at all that way on the inside.

But this nuanced thinking seems to increasingly be difficult for many GO fans, particularly those who spend a great deal of time on social media, a place where people are either blindly praised or denigrated and torn down, and where such behavior greatly reinforces that binary, black-and-white mindset. We so badly want the world to be clear-cut--good vs. evil, heroes vs. bad guys--but very often that just isn't how things work. And it is exactly what Terry and Neil were trying to speak against in the GO book (and subsequently, the TV show).

The other thing that I think influences a lot of fans' perceptions about Aziraphale and Crowley is their chosen corporations (i.e., Crowley being thin and Aziraphale being plump). There is an automatic assumption that thin somehow equals more vulnerable, and for all of the emphasis that is placed on Aziraphale and Crowley being genderfluid/nonbinary/not subscribing to traditional gender roles, it's Crowley who seems to be viewed as more androgynous/femme, and is therefore looked at as inherently vulnerable. Meanwhile Aziraphale is thicker and viewed as more masculine, and therefore he is somehow inherently not vulnerable. Yet if the body types were reversed, it seems highly likely that fans' attitudes toward them would be much different.

(It also saddens me that this seems to mirror the fans' treatment of Michael and David, where Michael serves as a target for the fans' venom and is seen as less desirable/more threatening because he presents more traditionally masculine, while David is not targeted or attacked and is seen as more desirable/less threatening because he presents much more androgynously. Consequently, many fans find it easy not to sympathize with Michael, and when you can readily disregard someone's feelings, it becomes easier to see them as "less." In the case of Aziraphale and Michael, it leaves no room for either one to be vulnerable and is unfair to both of them.)

What I have always taken away from Good Omens--and from Michael and David's portrayal of Aziraphale and Crowley and how deeply they both understand these characters--is that Crowley doesn't need to be a perfect angel for Aziraphale to like him. He just needs to be a little bit of a good person. And Aziraphale doesn't need to be a perfect demon for Crowley to like him--he just needs to be enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. Neither one has to fully subscribe to the other's outlook or point of view to listen to what they have to say.

Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the middle. In the place that becomes their side, and where they take care of each other, fight with each other, and love each other. And that's more than most of us could ever ask or hope for...

[blicketdabest33]

Y'all remember that MCYT PJO au I asked for help with awhile ago? WELL HERE'S THE CABINS AND MY EXPLINATIONS BEHIND THEM!!

#1 Zeus Cabin: Jimmy, Joel Jimmy: He's a Zeus kid, but everyone somehow forgets about it. Joel: He's competitive and strong. Also, because Jimmy is his half brother through godly parent, i get to make a fun bit about him dating Lizzie. And one of his origins in Afterlife SMP was a thunderborn

#2 Hera Cabin: Scott Scott: Scott's whole thing is loyalty. Hera is the goddess of marriage and is insanely loyal to Zeus. However, I feel like Hera should get at least one affair. So now Scott can use peacocks as weapons.

#3 Poseidon Cabin: Skizz Skizz: Poseidon kids tend to be really, really loyal to a fault and heroic, both qualities I think Skizz possesses.

#4 Demeter Cabin: Sausage, Shelby, Bdubs, Stress Sausage: This man built Sanctuary in a jungle and has flowers in his hair. He sells wood. There is no other place to put him. Shelby: Mushroom gnome, spooky mangrove witch, powerful storm witch, i need not continue. Bdubs: Moss man. Stress: SHE HAS FLOWERS

#5 Ares Cabin: Martyn, False Martyn: His planet is Mars, which is the roman version of Ares. He ended Limited Life in such a violent way, i can't help it. He was also red for the majority of Secret Life. False: I just feel like False should get to kill people more often.

#6 Athena Cabin: Grian, Pix, Owen, Xisuma Grian: This sums it up pretty well

Pix: Smart man. Archeologist and definitely a nerd. I wanna see him skipping out on training just so he can read history books. Owen: He likes to explore and discover new things in Pirates. In Rats, he's a tinkerer. In New Life, he's an explorer who wants to study hybrids. In Empires, he's a Llama who's curious about how humans work. Just a very curious character overall. Xisuma: Admin. I'm not elaborating.

#7 Apollo Cabin: Gem, Oli, Lyarrah Gem: She is an Apollo kid because of her Empire in S2. She's the sunlight princess. Apollo kid. Oli: MUSIC. MAN. Lyarrah: She writes the captions for the hermitcraft recap.

#8 Artemis Cabin: Pearl Pearl: Y'know, Artemis could've just like... had a kid, even though she took that oath. It wouldn't even have to be with a guy. Gods can change to whatever gender they want. Anyway, Pearl gets to be an Artemis kid because her symbolism is moon, she loves dogs, and will commit murder and hunt at night.

#9 Hephaestus Cabin: Doc, Mumbo, Tango, Impulse, Cub, Zedaph, Fwhip, Iskall Doc: Redstone Mumbo: Redstone Tango: Redstone Impulse: Redstone Cub: Redstone Zedaph: Redstone Fwhip: Redstone AND has a red scarf (don't ask me how that's relevant) Iskall: Redstone

#10 Aphrodite Cabin: Keralis Keralis: Okay, I don't know why, but Keralis gives me the vibes of a very charming person. His voice is nice to listen to, so imagine how useful it'd be if I gave him charm speak.

#11 Hermes Cabin: Scar, Etho, Joe Scar: Trader Scar, scammer extraordinar. Etho: All i must say is Shady-E's. I get "jack-of-all-trades, master of none, often better than master of one" vibes from him. He's funny, he's mischievous, it just works. Joe: Comedy man. Excellent delivery. And, yet again, i look at this man and go "That right there is a multi-talented man with a habit for mischief."

#12 Dionysus Cabin: Joey, Beef Joey: *points at his season one empires theme* i need not say more Beef: Idk, food. I don't really have a reason. I don't know too much about Beef.

#13 Hades Cabin: Zloy Zloy: Zombie man. He writes the Hermitcraft recaps in the dark at 2am with nothing but pure spite.

#14 Iris Cabin: Katherine Katherine: SHE. HAS. COLORS. and also I couldn't put her in Demeter cabin because Shelby is already there and i am NOT excluding Nature Wives from this au

#15 Hypnos Cabin: Bigb, XB, Wels Bigb: Sleepy stuff, right? WRONG. Gaslight. Go in everyones dreams, make fake prophecies, peace out, and cause chaos. XB: I look at his fanon design, I see an alien, and I go "aha he sleeps" Wels: This guy (@dingdinghq) said so and i completely agree. Something about sleeping in S6.

#16 Nemesis Cabin: Edit: wels not here no more

#17 Nike Cabin: Ren Ren: VICTORY. I don't know much about Ren's story in the Life Series, but I look at this man and see someone who has won a lot.

#18 Hebe Cabin: 

#19 Tyche Cabin: TFC TFC: Man goes mining and gets really lucky. That's it.

#20 Hecate Cabin: Lizzie, Cleo, Jevin Lizzie: Witchy vibes. Also, Arson. Cleo: Arson. She uses her magic for Arson. Jevin: He's a magic slime. Also, Arson. All Hecate kids love Arson.

[hopecomesbacktolife]

recently read the time magazine special edition “Star Trek: inside the most influential science fiction series ever” a good portion of it is stuff a lot of fans probably already know, but there was some info in there that was still new to me, and lots of gorgeous photos that were amazing to see in print, too, so still definitely an enjoyable read! (apart from a couple instances of weirdly superiority, bro-esque writing, but that only occurred in one of the articles, thankfully)

one thing I really enjoyed about the visual aspect of the magazine though was some of the costuming visuals! For example, these crisp shots show not only the tailoring and seams but literally the construction and stitching on the TMP era uniforms 😍😍 (check out the stitching on the sleeve ranks in particular!!!)

next up, some extremely cool science things I didn’t know about and love that they exist:

this shot is excellent both for De fans (me) and also for seamstresses and costumers (also me!) because of that excellent, and rare, shot of the back of a TOS women’s uniform with seams and construction visible… positively a seamstress dream!! such a good garment structuring reference 👏🏻

also, an up close on one of Quark’s outfits that shows definitively that this outerwear jacket is, in fact, rainbowy tweed!!, a fashion statement I vote we bring back:

(it reminds me of this couch and blanket from my childhood, it was extremely 1970s and I loved it)

this little Kirk & Spock character comparison panel appeared next to an excerpt of Shatner’s writing, and to me it would fit in perfectly with those “who’s dating who” activity panels etc in magazines like seventeen, which, excellent execution, that’s such a good vibe to have considering The Premise 👏🏻

speaking of— I wish they’d mentioned slash fic, The Premise, early fanfic mail chains etc waaay more than they did (and for that matter, highlight way more just how important and vital the women Trekkies were!) but hey, at least they mentioned Spirk shippers, along with other parts of the magazine mentioning queer and nonbinary+trans rep in trek. could’ve/should’ve been more, but—

anyways! It’s still a fun magazine to read through and has lots of fun images even if you’re already familiar with the stories. (did you know there used to be an Enterprise shaped landline phone you could buy? I didn’t, and now I very much want one lol) it also highly benefits from having article writers of multiple genders, so there’s that, too. 🖖🏻

[silverzoomies]

Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands. 

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?” 

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -” 

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

 Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

 “Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

 “...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable. 

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take. 

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger. 

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year. 

[llamagoddessofficial]

biggest of brain energy re warm bread and beloved skeletons - so.... might i offer you .................. patisserie/baker au??

the boys are all rival(ish) bakers/pastry chefs on the same cute little side block of a quaint walkable downtown.

Sans has that extremely detailed, finicky pastry work down pat, on top of all the strange new versions that keep, somehow, making filo dough more difficult and yet structurally impressive. he's tried all those cool gastro-chef techniques, but just loves & excels at the fancy little pastries. absolutely the type to just close the shop when he's sold out of whatever he felt interested in making a lot of that day. surprisingly good-yet-bad social media presence. makes the jokiest videos and jankiest signs advertising when he's got a new batch of Something Tasty out, but the most beautiful shots of his pastries.

Red is one of those not-so-surprisingly charming excon-type (maybe never actually in prison, but y'know) bakers that looks intimidating but makes the best goddamn homey baked goods you ever had. pies, breads, big soft filled rolls, anything that feels ghibli as hell, frankly. has a not-so-secret love of making those really decorative lattice-style pie crusts; can absolutely make art you wouldn't want to eat if not for how damned good you know the pie is. always the most slammed during autumn, has spirited """debates""" with Sans (who is directly across the cobbled street) whenever they get deliveries at the same time, often about incredibly inane but opinionated baking nuances. accidentally best friends with all the local widows and grandmas. frequently propositioned by all genders.

Skull is a bit of the odd man out - he used to work at a little old cakeshop on the corner, but Something Happened one day and that corner store has frustratingly been turned into Insert Encroaching Soulless Chain Here. he now works at the back of the little pizzeria, making the best goddamn pizza dough anyone's ever had. seeing him flip and spin those pizzas is art in and of itself. rumor still had it that there was someone on staff at that cakeshop that could make the most dazzling wedding cakes you ever did see, but they also made the flavors involved so harmonious you could cry....

....... MC is a new arrival, perhaps opening up her own little shop - a little cafe maybe, specializing in warm drinks and a simple menu of baked goods like croissants and scones and cookies, some finger foods, and most importantly Cozy Vibes.

maybe she puts out an ad for a proper baker to help her out while she makes the teas and coffees and runs the front....

... and maybe some shenanigans ensue ✧∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

genius. absolutely genius. allow me to lose my fucking mind

Mc opens up her delightful little cafe. It's small, obviously, since she's technically the only employee- though she's great at coffee she struggles to make anything more complex than a cookie for cafe food. Her croissants melt and flatten, her pies collapse, her attempts at macarons just spread out into a sheet. So! She puts out an ad!

Sans: Ironically, his habit of only making what he's interested in and randomly closing shop without warning has made his desserts even more sought after. The incredible intricate and unique nature of his treats give them an element of scarcity, and people will come from all over to get to his next batch early. The sign out the front says 'open 10am to 5pm monday to wednesday. open some thursdays, depends how i feel. closed the second friday in the month, unless we were open thursday before. open saturday. closed sunday'.

He was a bit suspicious of her cafe, he'll admit it. He's suspicious of anything new on the street. Various chain brands have been infiltrating the previously majority monster-run area, and he hates the way his favourite place is slowly being subsumed by shitty corporate machine-made food. But it only took one visit (purely out of curiosity) for him to get love at first sight.

Since his store has such a reputation, he can afford to flunk whenever he likes to go sit in with her and chat for hours; he's a welcome presence. After noticing her difficulty with baking he starts giving her tips but quickly graduates to giving her some of his stock, instantly boosting her popularity. She thinks he's giving her leftover stock he doesn't need- she has no idea he's making stuff specifically for her.

Red: Red and Pap do have a tendency to treat their business like it's a mafia. The way they call it the 'family business' often makes people think it's a front for organised crime. And it was, once- the two of them only opened the store to cover up what was happening behind the scenes. But then they enjoyed running a bakery so much that they dropped the crime. He doesn't like the way Sans has turned baking into something snooty and highbrow; Red thinks food should be delicious and comforting, not a one-bite commodity people pay out of the nose for.

Red becomes a cafe regular, he goes during breaks and straight after work. He spends most of his time standing up at the counter flirting relentlessly, but he's so on the dot that she usually has his order ready for him. He offers to teach her to make a good pie- "payment? what're you talkin' about, doll? seein' yer pretty face is payment enough fer me." There would definitely be some scenes of him teaching her to bake... standing behind her with his hands over hers, showing her the technique to fold dough, though neither of them are really concentrating because he's grinning like an idiot and she can only feel how hot her face is.

(He'd probably ruin it with a 'wish you'd pound my dough like that'. A swift smack, and the magic of the moment is over)

Skull: He's the one that responds to her ad.

Though he didn't mind his job, per say, he misses being able to make his own stuff. Pizza tossing can only do so much to fill the baking-shaped hole in his heart. He wanted to apply anyway, it was just a stroke of luck that the cafe owner turned out to be the love of his life. Though he's a bit spooky and looks at her like he can't see anything else, she's quick to accept him, telling him he can make whatever he wants- and that's when he works his magic. All the stunning cakes lining the display case are his handiwork.

He's a man of few words, and he doesn't like being in public, so he's always in the back baking and cleaning. He wishes he had the confidence to talk to her more. She brings him coffee whenever she has time, as thanks for all his hard work... she leaves foam art, since it's one of the few things she can do. Though when she leaves a heart, the coffee usually ends up going cold. He tends to just stare at the heart until the foam is gone.

[festivalsofmargot]

You Are a Memory {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: END GAME SPOILERS!!! AGE 18+ SCENARIOS

Starts after Sebastian’s questline and goes until the two of you are in your 7th year, aged up to 18+. Sebastian has just killed his uncle, and it finally dawns on the two of you how far down the dark path you’ve gone. You aren’t good for one another, and it’s time you let each other go. 

Could be a standalone, but if you’d like some extra background on yours and Sebastian’s relationship, feel free to read these first: Pining in Potions Class, Pretty Thoughts, and Selfless. (I like to write a non house specific reader, but Gall of a Gryffindor can work too if any of you Gryffindors out there want that little extra).

Word Count: ~ 5,400 😬 whoopsies

Warnings: Kissing, Angst, Sex (first time making love, gender neutral so not crazy explicit smut level, characters are aged 18+)

Author’s Note:  Listen listen listen listen… it’s not that I don’t like you guys. I just wanna make you pretty cry a bit, okay? You and Seb have been too happy together in my short stories and I’m ready to be the drama and add a little spice. This is my first attempt at a sex scene and a gender neutral one at that. I’m happy with how it turned out, but I’ll keep pushing myself to write better. Enjoy everybody, hope you’re having a good day 😊

Songs (if interested, bonus songs because it’s a long one today, pop them on and join my sad vibes):

You Are a Memory - Message to Bears

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead

September 15, 2017: Cassini - The Grand Finale - Sleeping At Last

Light - Sleeping At Last

Falling Colour - Vanbur

You finally left the room of requirement after having spent a good amount of your Saturday there. The magical beasts you saved were always excellent company, even in a time as dark as this. When Deek had excused himself for the night, it was then you realized you should probably get to bed yourself.

You silently cursed when you saw how dark and empty the halls were. It was difficult to keep track of time with the vivariums and Deek’s room ambience enchantments. No question you were well passed curfew. Though, a detention was the least of your worries at the moment.

You heard your name called from somewhere in the darkness. You gasped and turned quickly to see Sebastian pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” The two of you hadn’t spoken since he ran from the cave. You hadn’t sought him out when you returned to the castle. You let him have his space, and heaven knows you needed it too.

“I needed to see you.” He said, not meeting your eyes.

“How long have you been waiting? I’m so sorry, if I had known -”

“It’s alright. I... needed the time to think about what I was going to say to you.”

Noticing the room of requirement’s door was still there, you pulled him back in with you. “Let’s talk in here.”

Sebastian’s eyes roamed the room. He would have been in awe at the beauty of it all. But the image of his dead uncle and the heartbroken look on Anne’s face took away any levity the room could have given him.

With Sebastian’s hand still in yours, you guided him to a nearby couch which had been your favorite spot aside from the beast vivariums, though you had a feeling it wouldn’t be any longer after your conversation that night. You sat and gently tugged at his hand for him to sit down with you.

Releasing your hand, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looked down at the floor, and you waited for him to speak first. You didn’t want to rush him.

“How did things go so wrong?” He buried his face in his hands, his voice faltering. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to -” 

Hearing his distress, you placed your hand on his back, rubbing up and down.

He took a shaky breath to right himself. He then grabbed your hand that was rubbing his back and held it in his lap. He rubbed a thumb across your skin and stared at the lines that graced your palm. “We need to end this.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and tears stung at your eyes. You also knew the two of you were heading this direction, but to hear one of you actually say it out loud still broke something in you. “I know.” You whispered.

Sebastian shot a hand up to cover his eyes, desperately trying to stop tears of his own from falling. His shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “I know.” You said again, still with no conviction. “I’m just as tempted by the dark arts as you are, Sebastian. If we stay together, I'm afraid we’ll cause even more damage.”

“I don’t want this.” He choked through his tears.

You held him tighter, the tears finally falling down your cheeks. You breathed in his scent once more, taking in everything you could of him before he would leave that night. “Neither do I.”

He gently tugged at your arms to get you to release him. He stood to his feet and made his way to leave. You knew you should let him go, but you jumped up from the couch and called for him just as he was going to open the door. “Sebastian!”

His fingers hovered over the handle, he turned slightly to look at you. He waited for you to continue, but you could only stare at him, eyes sparkling with tears. 

Digging his heels into the ground, he closed the distance between the two of you in only a few steps. He took your face in his hands and crashed his lips onto yours. You met him with just as much need and grabbed at the fabric covering his chest to keep him close. The both of you whimpered at the despair in your kiss, cheeks wet with tears. This was the end of it and there was no running from the pain.

Before you knew it, Sebastian left your embrace, speeding out of the room. Once the door shut behind him, you collapsed to the floor and allowed your sobs to consume you.

-

The remaining days of your fifth year went by the slowest. Each day you weren’t working with Professor Fig on your ancient magic and going through the keepers’ trials, you struggled to fill your time. Poppy was finally taking it easy after you had helped her with the centaurs. And Natty was still recovering from your fight with Harlow. Her mother had a closer eye on her than ever before, so spending time with her away from the castle wasn’t happening.

Every time you saw Sebastian, you did everything you could to keep your distance and avoid looking his way. At first you tried to sneak glances, but you found it hurt too much, and it only tempted you to run back into his arms. 

“Maybe we were too rash. Maybe we can be better together.” You envisioned yourself saying to him, but you knew it wouldn’t be true. It was made clear every time you left the castle and ran into poachers. They made it difficult to stray from your dark path. Seeing what they had done to so many animals, you were nowhere near done with the cruciatus curse. You weren’t good for Sebastian, you needed to accept that and let him heal. He could be better, and he would be.

-

You don’t know how you made it out alive against Rookwood and Ranrok, yet there you were. You shifted uncomfortably in your bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Aside from some deep gashes that needed stitching, a ton of bruising, and a sprained ankle, you had managed to make it out all right. But Professor Fig hadn’t, and it weighed on you heavily.

Word spread fast about how you fought alongside the professors to defend the school.  All your friends had come to see you - well - almost all of them. Even some people you didn’t know very well came to check in. 

When Ominis came in to the hospital wing, you felt yourself go stiff. Along with leaving Sebastian behind, you left Ominis as well. You panicked at the thought of facing him. If you had never entered their lives, Sebastian might not have been able to dive so deep into the dark arts. He might have listened to his closest friend and the whole mess wouldn’t have happened.

“How are you?” Ominis asked as he pulled up a chair by your bedside.

“A little roughed up, I suppose. And you?” You were afraid to ask, because the conversation could so easily move towards Sebastian.

“I’m well thank you. And a little roughed up? From what I hear you sound like you belong in this hospital bed for the remainder of the year.”

You began to laugh but then hissed in pain, grabbing at your side. “Well, I can’t really disagree with you there, can I?”

He gave a soft chuckle, and then he fell quiet. The look on his face made it seem like he was debating his next words. “Look, I heard what happened between you and Sebastian.”

“Ominis, please -”

“Let me finish. I heard what happened between the two of you but I’m still here for you. That day you took on the cruciatus curse for him, I knew you’d proven yourself to be a true friend. I understand why the two of you are no longer speaking, and as much as I’m sure it hurts, I agree it’s what’s best for the both of you. Please know, you don’t have to be a stranger when it comes to me.”

It hit you how much you had missed Ominis as well. “Thank you.”

“I'm afraid I have to get going now, I snuck away from Sebastian to check in on you. I feel I’ve constantly had to talk him out of coming to visit the second he heard what happened.”

You nodded your head, “It’s best he doesn’t come. I think I’d fall out of this bed and crawl right into his arms if he had.”

“I thought the same.” He stood up from his chair. “Now get some rest. I can grab something for you from Honeydukes later.”

“Chocolate Frogs, I’m begging you.” Just as you were starting to cheer up, the thought of Hogsmeade reminded you of Rookwood, and what he had told you before he tried to kill you. “Ominis, wait. There’s something you and Sebastian need to know about Anne.”

-

Sebastian couldn’t stand it. Though he knew full well Ominis was right about how he shouldn’t go to visit you, it had gotten to a point where he wasn’t able to sleep without having seen how you were doing with his own eyes. 

Sneaking out of his dorm, he made his way to the hospital wing. He crept in, cloaked with the disillusionment spell and stood at the entrance. Eyes searching, it didn’t take long to spot you. You seemed to be the only student admitted.

He tiptoed over as not to wake you. When he reached you, his heart crumpled at the sight. A majority of your body was covered by the blanket, but from the skin he could see on your neck and face, you were riddled with bruising and stitches. Without thinking, he brushed his fingers along your cheek. 

You let out a soft moan and Sebastian yanked back his hand, panicked he had woken you. But you went quiet again, the only sound escaping you was your breathing. He should have listened to Ominis, seeing you again like that had pulled him right back in. He needed to get out of there.

Just as he as he turned to leave, you mumbled, “Sebastian?”

He looked back fearfully, thinking he was caught. But you were still sound asleep as you murmured his name. He ached to kneel before your bedside and grab your hand. He wanted to kiss it over and over, reassuring you saying, “I’m here. I’m here. Everything’s alright now.” But he couldn’t, and before he could fight himself on it any longer, he forced his feet to move one in front of the other until he was back in his dorm.

-

It was the beginning of your seventh year at Hogwarts when the Triwizard Tournament was announced to take place. It sounded like just the thing you needed to get through your last year.

You don’t know how you made it through your sixth year, it wasn’t nearly as eventful as your fifth had been. Though you were thankful everything seemed to be going a lot smoother in the world and your friends were safe, you were still uneasy with all the free time you had. You busied yourself up in the room of requirement if you weren’t with Poppy or Natty, and would stay just late enough to make it back right before curfew.

Though it was impossible to not see Sebastian, you did everything you could to minimize the chances. By the end of the year, you had found a good routine to get you through the rest of your time at Hogwarts. And adding this tournament on top of it could really help you thrive.

You fiddled with the folded up parchment that had your name written on it as you stood in the crowd around the Goblet of Fire. You were standing side by side with Natty who was also going to put her name in, the two of you waited for your turn to walk up. It was interesting watching all the Beauxbaton Academy and Durmstrang Institute students put their name in. They all looked so confident, and with such athletic builds, you couldn’t believe some of them were only 18 years old like you were.

After Natty placed her name in, you clapped along with everyone else and threw in a special holler just for her. Then it was your turn. As you were about to let the parchment fall in and be swallowed up by the flames, you looked out to the cheering crowd and locked eyes with Sebastian. Out of everyone around you, how did you manage to spot him? Dropping your name in, the crowd erupted in applause. You bowed your head and smiled as you left the circle.

When you returned to your position amongst the crowd, you tried to shake the image of his face from your mind. The way he was looking at you when you entered your name into the fire, it was almost as if he was crushed to see you do so. But you immediately dismissed the thought. It was dark in there and the only light source came from the Goblet, you couldn’t have possibly gotten a good read on his reaction. You two were no longer in each other’s lives and it’s been that way for a while. Get over yourself. He wouldn’t care what you did any more.

-

“You? But... why?” Was all Sebastian could ask his best friend. Ominis had just informed him he was the one taking you to The Yule Ball. Sebastian had known you were going with someone after overhearing you turn down a Durmstrang student, apologizing and explaining you already had a date. He had been in a dreadful mood ever since. But his sour mood turned perplexed at Ominis’ announcement.

“Honestly? Because I’m afraid of what you’d do to anyone else who did. Also, it looks good for a Gaunt to be going to the ball with the Hogwarts champion, if I’m not going to be the champion myself. Got my family off my back somewhat.”

Sebastian sighed. “Ominis, you didn’t need to trouble yourself. I’m fine now. We’re fine. We haven’t spoken in who knows how long. The two of you should go with people you -” have an interest in. He finished in his head, unable to say the words aloud without feeling sick.

Though he’d hate to admit it, Sebastian was filled with immense relief Ominis was the one taking you to the ball. He had seen the rather large amount of people who had approached you, and he wanted to shoo off each one of them. But he had no right, he needed to let you live your life. After all, it would have been highly hypocritical of him considering he had said yes to going with Amelie Dupont, the champion for Beauxbatons Academy.

-

Sebastian and Ominis waited side by side at the bottom of the stairs for their dates. He was hoping with every fiber in his body that you would walk down those stairs before Amelie did, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist watching you come down with undivided attention. And that would be horribly rude of him with his date at his arm already.

But of course, Amelie arrived first. He shouldn’t have expected any different knowing how you were. Always off doing something until the last minute.

With Amelie’s arm linked in his, all champions and their dates stood, lined in formation to enter the ballroom, except one.

“Ah Mr. Gaunt, here is your date now.”

Sebastian shot his gaze to the stairs at Professor Weasley’s words and went stiff. In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped. You were breathtaking. He had never seen you in such formal attire. For some reason, feeling foolish about it then, he had expected you to be dressed in some variation of the Hogwarts uniform. It had been all he’d seen you in for the passed year and a half.

“So sorry I’m late.” You called down as you descended the steps, watching your step as you did so as not to trip in your new fancy shoes. You were still breaking them in and weren’t the most confident. When you looked up your eyes met Sebastian’s, and the way he was looking at you had your insides twisting.

Sebastian swallowed thickly when you looked his way, and for a brief moment he let himself live in the fantasy that you were walking down the stairs to meet him. Time slowed down and memories began popping up all at once in his brain: the first time you met, the both of you trying to hide your laughter at Garreth’s nonsense in potions class, your first kiss in the library, all your sneaky pecks to his cheek, and even the times he’d rest his head on your lap as the two of you laid in the grass under the sun.

“Alright you two, join the line here.” His thoughts were interrupted at Professor’s Weasley’s voice. You took Ominis’ arm and got in the back of the line. Sebastian made himself face forward, awaiting further instruction.

“You look very handsome, Ominis.” He heard you whisper to his best friend.

“Thank you, I’m sure you look wonderful yourself.” You and Ominis cackled.

Walking out in front of everyone and doing the traditional first dance was all a blur. Sebastian hadn’t been able to compose himself after he saw you coming down the stairs.

Once the dance was over, he excused himself from Amelie and went to the washroom. He leaned against the sink, trying to steady his breathing. How could he have ever thought he was over you? You still meant as much to him then as you had when you parted ways in the room of requirement. He was extra thankful Ominis had been your date, if anyone else had been and he had to watch you link arms with them he didn’t think his heart could take it.

Once he returned to the ball, his eyes landed on you and Ominis on the dance floor. You were talking and laughing with him easily, seeming to not have a care in the world.

Do I have even the slightest effect on you anymore? Sebastian wondered as he watched from afar. He thought back to when you put your name in the Goblet of Fire. Your eyes had met his and he silently pleaded with you not to go through with it, people died in this tournament. Though he knew you were capable, having to watch you be put in harm’s way and he wouldn’t be able to help had him petrified. But you dropped it in and turned away, proud to have your name in the running. When your name was chosen from the Goblet, because of course it was, the terror and misery that went through him was paralyzing. Ominis had to help keep him steady the rest of that day.

He had a sick hope he made you hurt at least a little having come with Amelie. But you were the one on the dance floor, happy as can be, not the one trying to keep it together in the washroom like he had just been.

Sebastian went and found Amelie. He apologized and asked her for another dance.

The night went by decently enough for Sebastian. Amelie was beautiful and talkative, so when the two of them weren’t dancing, they were surrounded by a group of people asking her an abundance of questions. He was thankful she took the reins in conversation because he wasn’t in a socializing mood. Every now and then he took glances your way, not once did he catch your eye.

It was nearing the end of the night and Amelie had asked if he wanted to go back to the dance floor. He looked out and saw you and Ominis were back out there already.

“I - I apologize, I promised a friend a dance and it’s slipped my mind ‘til now.”

Amelie nodded with a smile and went back to speaking with a few Durmstrang students who were eager for her attention.

Before he knew it, he was making his way over to you and Ominis. When he reached the two of you on the dance floor, he held out a hand towards you.

Your laughing and dancing ceased.

“May I cut in?” Sebastian asked, gaze on you unflinching.

Your insides began buzzing with nerves. The thought of your first time interacting with Sebastian again through a dance was nearly too much to handle.

“Go ahead.” Ominis said with a smile as he released you, his approval taking you by surprise. “I need a rest anyhow.” Before you could protest, he was gone, leaving you and Sebastian alone.

You tentatively grabbed his hand and he pulled you into a dance. This being your first time speaking and touching after nearly two years, you didn’t think you would be able to look him in the eyes. But that was the only place you could look.

The two of you didn’t speak, it seemed you didn’t need to. Over the course of your dance, the two of you moved in closer, dismissing the official waltz stance you were supposed to be in. Your arms found their way around his shoulders and his around your waist. He leaned his head against yours as you slowly swayed from side to side.

You had fought so hard to distance yourself from him, and all it took was one dance to pull you back in. You never wanted to let go. Because as soon as you let go, he would be gone from your life again. The way he was holding onto you made you believe he had the same worry. You breathed in his scent like you used to do when you were this close. You hummed and pulled him closer, he still used the same cologne you loved.

Sebastian closed his eyes, imagining it was just the two of you in your own little world. He relished every second of this dance with you. Having you back in his arms felt right, like this was where you were always supposed to be.

“Excusez-moi? Sebastian, I’m getting tired. Would you like to walk me back to the dorms?” Amelie hiccupped, seeming to have had some drinks other students snuck in.

His eyes shot open and you tried to pull away quickly, but he grabbed your hand with a strong hold so you wouldn’t get too far. As the two of you looked at Amelie, you shook your hand from his grasp and cleared your throat. “Of course he would! Appreciate you letting me steal him away for a quick dance. Always great to catch up with an old friend. Goodnight, you two.”

Sebastian watched as you escaped to Ominis’ side, your vanishing warmth making him feel empty. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave things there and not speak to you for another year and a half. Dancing with you and holding you close would never have been enough to hold him over.

“You’ll have to guide me.” Amelie giggled, linking her arm in his. “This castle is a maze.”

“It can be. Would you excuse me one moment?” He slipped from Amelie’s grasp and ran to your side. He touched your elbow and your attention was back on him.

Your eyes widened at the gall Sebastian had to leave Amelie’s side. You already felt terrible she had to witness the two of you dancing the way you were, but truth be told she was probably too sozzled to notice. “Sebastian, you can’t just -”

“Meet me in the undercroft, I’ll be there shortly.”

“I can’t, I -” You gestured weakly to Ominis who was aware of everything that was happening.

“Please.” The rigor in his voice made it clear he wasn’t asking, then he returned to Amelie’s side.

You looked to Ominis, dumbstruck at Sebastian’s actions. “Ominis, you need to speak with him. Get him back to his senses.”

But Ominis only shook his head, “Meet with him.”

-

After all this time, you found yourself in the undercroft again. While you waited for Sebastian, you looked around, nostalgia washing over you. You found your way next to a wooden table covered in markings you hadn’t remembered seeing. Sebastian’s, Ominis’, and Anne’s names were all over, along with some carvings of stick figures. One of the carvings was a heart with yours and Sebastian’s initials. You rubbed your hand over your chest in hopes to slow down your rapid pulse. Then you ran your fingers over it.

His heart ached as he watched you. “I did that when you were recovering in the hospital wing. I was a mess.”

You startled slightly at his voice.

“A few weeks after we... well...” He looked down, kicking the dirt at his feet, wanting to change the subject. “We haven’t bumped into each other down here since fifth year, have we? How often do you come these days?” He asked, looking back up to you.

“Oh, I... I haven’t been in here since fifth year.”

“You haven’t?” A large part of him hurt at the thought of you leaving the undercroft behind.

You shook your head, eyes continuing to roam around the room. “No. This place was always yours, Ominis’, and Anne’s. Never mine.”

“I tried to make it yours too.”

You met his dispirited gaze, and you didn’t know how to respond. You turned away and began meandering around. “What is this about, Sebastian?” You hoped he would get on with it, this whole night had been torture. Watching him dance with Amelie and barely leave her side, you were thankful you had Ominis to lean on.

He took a step towards you. “I want to be in your life again.” He blurted.

Your heart picked up its pace again and you froze. It was exactly what you wanted to hear, but as much as you wanted to run and jump into his arms, you kept yourself in place. It wasn’t what was best for him.

“I want us again.” He said, taking another step towards you.

“Sebastian.” You sighed.

“Believe me when I say I’ve changed.” He began desperately. “I have no more temptations with the dark arts. Just ask Ominis! He’ll tell you how far I’ve come. I’m better now.”

You swallowed thickly in your throat. “But I’m not.” You confessed, barely above a whisper. You released a shaky breath and met his stare. “I am so proud to hear you’ve come far. Truly, I am. But I am still no good for you.” You glanced away from him then, unable to say it to his face. “I still use the unforgiveable curses... all the time.” You went tense at the admission, “These poachers Poppy and I come across, they conjure up something so monstrous in me, I -” You stopped yourself, not eager to explain further.

“I can help you.” He was by your side then. “I brought you into the dark arts. I can help get you out. My hatred for Ranrok’s loyalists? I was able to overcome that too.” He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “You don’t know how far I’d go for this. I’m so in love with you it hurts. I can’t stand to see you and act like I don’t know you anymore.”

You shook your head at the overwhelming nature of it all, an unsteady exhale left your lips. The look on your face told him you were considering his words, and he couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Sebastian, if I pull you back to the dark arts, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You won’t.” He brought the back of your hand to his lips. “I mean it when I say I’ve changed. Have a little confidence in me, will you?”

You bit your lip, and thought through everything that could go wrong if you went back to him. But him telling you he was in love with you had taken away all your resolve. All the warnings you usually chided yourself with were falling flat, not being at all effective like they used to be even just a moment ago. You nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyes went wide, unable to believe it.

“Okay. And I love you too. So much, Sebastian.”

Sebastian picked you up and swung you in his arms, causing a boisterous laugh to spring out from inside you. He set you down and brought one hand up to cup your cheek, smashing his lips against yours. Being able to be with you like this again had him bursting at the seams with joy.

You kissed him back with just as much fervor. Your hands shot up to his hair and you gripped his locks between your fingers. He backed you up until you hit the wooden table you were looking at earlier. Without taking his lips off of yours he hoisted you up and positioned himself between your legs. He licked at your bottom lip and you opened your mouth partly for him to taste more of you. You let out a whimper, then you felt him press his front against yours. You gasped at the sudden feel of it and he made himself stop kissing you.

“I’m sorry.” He said breathlessly, forehead pressed to yours. “We don’t have to. I just couldn’t help myself. You just -” He buried his face into your neck and sighed, “Every time I see you, I go mad. I’ve missed you all this time and to finally have you here in my arms -”

You began to unbutton his shirt with delicate fingers. He pulled back and looked you into your eyes. 

“A - Are you sure?”

You smiled at him and nodded your head, continuing to undo his buttons. He helped you shakily yet eagerly. Then he began to help you undress, covering you in comforting kisses as he did so. It was nerve-racking, undressing in front of each other for the first time. But you weren’t with just anyone in that moment, you were with Sebastian, and he was with you. The two of you were hopeful for the future, but in that moment neither of you cared what happened from then on. The two of you were ready, and you wanted be each other’s first. 

You moved to the floor together, laying on your clothes, he covered your body with his. He leaned down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours, and the feel of his skin was electrifying. You could feel his hardness pressed against you as you continued to hold each other, taking your time exploring one another in a way no one else had.

He shivered as you touched him, sighing your name against your lips. He dragged his fingers from your neck, lightly touching down your body, passed your waist, until he placed his hand between your thighs.

And right then, with the urgent need about to burst from both your cores, you knew there was no other place in the world you'd rather be. This ache you felt for each other left no room for doubt, this couldn’t have happened with anyone else, you were made for one another. You both were on the brink with each other’s touches, clueless how it could possibly feel better than it already had. 

“I’m ready.” You whimpered.

Sebastian, eyes clouded with desire, nodded his head. You both adjusted until you fit each other perfectly, starting slow to get the hang of it, and eventually losing yourselves in one another in a tangle of limbs. You covered each other with kisses, licks, and even some bites as the need to melt into each other grew more and more. In those moments together, as your breaths and moans echoed throughout the undercroft, the only temptation presenting itself was each other, and it was pure bliss.

[hotvintagepoll]

I am adoring all of these polls and gif sets and just being fed so many hot vintage people. As someone who really hasn’t watched very many classics, are there any movies you’d recommend for someone just starting to dip their toes in older media but unsure where to start?

Sure! I don't want to sway any voting, but I'll put an incomplete list of favorites that involve hot men not still in the bracket below the cut.

Something to note that applies to most of these old movies—older movies have different pacing than modern movies, so some of these might seem really slow or weird to start. There are also different ways of framing gender and agency, for better and for worse. I've italicized the ones that I think are the best for starting with, but go with whatever genre/aesthetic sounds best.

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Basil Rathbone)—a circus performer working for a quasi-Robin Hood infiltrates the royal court. Fun comedy that's incredibly accessible and still so light on its feet. Swordfighting, glamorous medieval costumes, court intrigues, and silly accents.

Singin' in the Rain (Gene Kelly)—fun polyamorous musical comedy. The dancing is incredible, but so is the sense of joy and camaraderie between Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. Genuinely captures the feeling of hanging out with your best friends. 1920s Hollywood, big movie studios, backstage drama, goofy hijinks.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (Errol Flynn, Basil Rathbone)—classic swashbuckler/romance. It could read a little slow to modern tastes but the action scenes are absolutely killer, as is the sentiment of seeing little guys pull down big capitalists evil monarchs. Swashbuckling, labor activists merry men hanging out in the woods, hot men in tights, social commentary swords, a Maid Marian who really holds her own and falls in love with the socialist

Charade (Cary Grant)—thriller/romantic comedy. Audrey Hepburn's husband dies and leaves her a hidden inheritance, and she's racing some skeevy characters to find it. A little bit scary but mostly charming and gorgeous, and you can find it high quality virtually anywhere because they fucked up the copyright trademark in the opening credits. Romance, murders, Paris, 1960s fashion, chases in the night.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (Dick Van Dyke)—this movie is divisive for some reason—I personally like peace, love, and joy, so it makes the list. This is a James Bond movie if James Bond had two kids, lived in a windmill in the south of England, and was into cottagecore inventions more than martinis and racism. This is very much a kids' movie so go in with that expectation, but enjoy the gorgeous production design, the wonderfully silly performances, and Lionel Jeffries pulling out every stop as an insane old man. Dick Van Dyke has excellent DILF energy. Magical cars, big musical vibes, fun inventions, and romantic fantasy.

To Be Or Not To Be (Jack Benny)—comedy/drama. A ragtag Warsaw theatre troupe stands off against the Gestapo after the invasion of Poland. TW for Nazis, obviously, but overall this is a comedy with some heft, and kind of shocking to be this ballsy about fucking hating Hitler's guts in the 1940s. Hambone actors, Shakespeare, spies, 1930s gowns. It's been a minute since I watched it so I don't think there are any TWs here, but go forth with caution.

Witness for the Prosecution (Tyrone Power)—mystery/legal drama based off an Agatha Christie story. The performances are campy fun and the twist would be at home in something like Knives Out. Big dramatics, hambones, lots of talking, a bit of a mindbender.

The Lady Vanishes (Michael Redgrave)—mystery/suspense/romantic comedy. It's a little slow to start but roll with it—once the action moves to the train the pacing really picks up. This gets slotted as a thriller sometimes but it's much funnier and gentler than that. There's some period-typical snarkiness directed at anyone Foreign™ by some of the British characters; the British characters are also made fun of. Trains, British people, international shenanigans, mystery, and humor.

All About Eve (absolutely none of these hot men, lots of hot women though)—a legendary actress fights for her life against the rising star who supplants her. Big drama, big performances, lots of gasp! and dahling! and vicious little quips. New York, theatre pronounced theahhtah, drama queens and plotting.

The Philadelphia Story (James Stewart, Cary Grant)—talk-heavy comedy, lots of quick banter and period transatlantic accent fun. It's a bit shouty and conflict-heavy at times, but I don't think James or Cary have ever been hotter, and Katherine Hepburn is just wow. Very funny dialogue, relatable characters, incredibly hot across the board. There is one instance of a racial slur (not directed at anyone but still there) and one shove. Some people won't like the discussion of Hepburn's character's choices as a daughter and a wife. With all of these movies you'll see a a range of how female characters are presented and treated, and while some period movies fall hard for sexist tropes, I personally think the performances, direction, and subtext of many of these films actually prioritizes the experiences of the female characters and shows them as living, breathing people, even if they're not framed the way they would be today.