┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | You can call me whatever you want, I’m fine with appropriate nicknames— but to make things simple you can call me Autumn.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Please refer to me with She/Her pronouns.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Feel free to message me, I don’t bite.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | All of my works are for mature audiences. My work is directed towards adults and deals with various darker topics (NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Toxic Relationships, etc.) suitable for that audience. I am not comfortable with minors interacting with my work.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Don’t like don’t read. All of my works will be tagged appropriately, it is up to your discretion to read the tags and decide if you want to read it. I will not respond to harassment or demeaning comments, I will not argue with puritanicals over my shipping preferences, likes or writing. My comments will be monitored.
Can you show the updated WIP/Draft lists please :3
Absolutely!!!! 💜✨ Here’s the link:
【 ✧ Current W.I.P/Drafts List ✧ 】
For reference: I try to update this post as I get new requests and every time I post. (Which is usually when I get an influx of new requests lol). Also, if you’ve recently requested something Bunny!Hybrid Reader related and it’s not on this list, please keep in mind that I’m compiling all of those requests together, they are also in my drafts so I can link a related work to them once it’s finished. ^w^
ugh, thinking about Habit ruining me completely, saying shit like "stupid bunny, you already finished" in the most condescending way as I rut against him anyway -♤
Hi again!! And omgsh I loved this idea!! I wrote it and combined it with a similar request from a mutual: 💜✨
࣪ ִֶָ☾. - [|✧ Malicious Compliance ✧|] (HABIT x Reader)
AUGHH Habit and edging. The only thing thats been on my mind these past few days, I know he'd be so so mean about it too dude, most definitely having us wrecked and sobbing. (HOTT) who said that...
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count: 0.9K // Summary: Habit's doesn't like letting you have anything you like for free, it all comes with a pretty cost.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | A/N: Must’ve been the wind- But hell yes, this fucker is mean as hell lmao. Why is he so sexy, but so mean, so unfair. I got another ask similar to this and it fired the neurons in my brain, so I combined them. So behold: Malicious Compliance Habit ™️ ✨. I hope you like this!!!
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Rating: NSFW // Content Warnings: N/A
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, AFAB Reader, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Wet & Messy, Over-stimulation & No Beta We Die Like Jeff.
You were soaked with sweat, panting and drooling against the bedsheets, leaving wet puddle stains on the fabric as you white-knuckle gripped the sheets. He had been pounding you into the mattress for almost an hour, he let you cum once— then never again. Instead, he was dragging it painfully out, bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, only to pull out and leave you aching with want, walls clenching around nothing.
You sobbed when he stopped yet again, wiggling your hips against him to try and milk away some sort of friction out of him, but he held your hips firm, denying you pleasure right at the precipice of your release as he completely pulled out of you. He pinched your inner thigh, causing you to jerk harshly and whip your head over your shoulder. You had frustrated tears in your eyes, silently pleading with him.
“You look so fucking adorable, Bunny…” He sighed, leaning against your back, his breath prickling the hairs on the back of your neck. “You want more? You want me?” He cooed, dragging the tip of his leaking cock through your dripping folds, before roughly grinding against your clit, causing you to spasm against him again, choking on your own saliva. You hastily nodded, sniffling as you buried your head back into the pillows.
“Then be good and say please, hm?” He growled as he yanked your hips up, exposing your sex to his hungry gaze as he nudged your thighs a little further apart. He wanted you to beg for him, to plead with him to give you exactly what you wanted, and you were inclined to oblige.
You swallowed, trying to straighten your thoughts just enough to stammer out a sentence. “P-please— I need it, I need you—“ you whimpered into the pillows.
He cruelly leaned back, his middle and index fingers rubbing at the slick between your reddened folds. “Need what?” He punctuated his sentence with a dull thrust of his fingers, enjoying the way your walls spasmed around them. You were so overstimulated, yet still completely needy for his touch.
“N-need you to make me cum—“ you gasped, arching against the curl of his fingers. It was too much and not enough all the same time.
"Stupid Bunny, you already finished once…. You gonna be greedy?” He mocked, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smug grin. You nodded again, unable to hide the needy little smile spreading across your face.
“Whatever you want, Bunny,” he said with a breathy laugh, shoving you up roughly until your shoulders and cheek bumped the headboard. Your chest was cushioned with the pillows you had previously been drooling against. He grabbed your hips with bruising strength, his warm fingers digging into the fat of them. You were so wet it was almost obscene. He slid into you with barely any resistance, thrusting forward and spearing you on his cock. He groaned as he buried himself to the hilt inside of you, your slick heat enveloping him.
He slammed upward and into you with a sharp, punishing thrust, forcing a breathless whimper from you. He watched with predatory satisfaction as your expression flickered between pleasure and the sheer overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely. His sweat-slicked chest pressed flush against your back, fitting almost seamlessly against you, the hard planes of his muscles compressed between the two of you. He adored the way you felt under him, soft, yielding, and completely and utterly trapped against him. It got him hard again, and you could feel his cock swelling up again inside of you.
He pulled out slightly, and you braced yourself as he slammed right back into you. His pace was fast, rough, and completely unyielding as you gasped and moaned, punishing you for your greediness. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep inside of you, grinding against your cervix and making your thighs writhe from the pleasure-pain and the strain. He didn't stop, thrusting into you again and again, until you were practically seeing stars, the wonderful sensation of a tight heat curling up deep in your abdomen. The slap of wet skin on skin reaching your ears as you mewled, the force of his thrust shoving the headboard back, banging it against the wall.
When you finally reached your climax, it was completely cathartic, downright blissful. You let out a visceral moan that you couldn’t hold back, a white-hot searing sensation crawling up your spine as your vision damn near went black. But he just kept going, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own pleasure. How he could go on this long was something you could barely understand, especially when you were already wrecked and exhausted.
He groaned as he rode out his own orgasm, his hips jerking harshly against you as his weight settled more heavily over your back. His cock throbbed as he emptied himself into you, but you could barely feel him inside of you anymore, let alone his cum dripping down your thighs. Your entire lower half was almost detached from the rest of your body, prickling from overuse. By the end of it all, your body was completely limp and aching, slick with sweat that soaked the bedsheets. Habit only looked cocky, pressing a messy kiss to your cheek. “You made such a mess…” He teased, you whined at him, shoving at his face.
“Your fault…” You mumbled back at him.
“Yeah, but you loved every fuckin’ second of it, didn’t you?” He laughed, leaning down again to latch onto a sensitive spot of your neck, sucking a dark purple hickey into your skin.
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
Join us in July for Darth Maul Appreciation Week, a time to celebrate our favourite not-quite-Sith-Lord! Starting on the fifth of July and ending on the twelfth, a variety of prompts will be given to inspire your Maul-centered fanworks. If you choose to participate, post your contribution on the day of and tag us @maul-appreciation-week so we can reblog your work or add your fics to the MaulApprecation2026 collection on AO3.
What’s allowed:
SFW or NSFW
Canon compliant, Legends, or AU
Physical or digital media
Fanart
Fanfiction
Edits or fan videos
Meta or headcanons
Playlists
Gifsets
Moodboards or collages
Cosplay
Reposting/reblogging your old fanworks that fit the prompts
Any and all ships (or non-romantic relationships)
Anything else your two Zabrak hearts desire!
What’s not allowed:
Being mean to other fans :(
Late submissions are also allowed, so don’t worry if you can’t get things in right on time. Better late than never! If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to send an ask our way. We hope to see you in July!
Prompts:
1 (5 July) - piercings // chains
2 (6 July) - nightmare // Holocron
3 (7 July) - Mandalore // oversized hoodie
4 (8 July) - pretty in pink // wounded
5 (9 July) - rainstorm // Crimson Dawn
6 (10 July) - chastise // enemies to lovers
7 (11 July) - leather gloves // Jedi Maul
8 (12 July) - you should see me in a crown // prosthetic
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count: 2.7k // Summary: Bleeding your kyber crystals and the aftermath from Maul's perspective.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | A/N: The transition to the dark side is no joke and I sort of believe that Kyber crystal bleeding has to be a deeply emotional process. I do hope if Devon falls to the dark side we get to see a bit about lightsaber bleeding (and not the crap we got in the Acolyte. TwT) We’ve gotten to see Jedi apprentices being trained in the light millions of times, even had a million and one redemption arcs from Barriss to Ventress!!! Let one semi-traditional Sith apprentice survive, goddamn. The Jedi have a future, but there can’t be Jedi without Sith. We need to even the tide here. Also, I left the readers kyber crystal color up to interpretation!! But personally, I’m a big fan of purple. ^w^
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Rating: SFW // Content Warnings: N/A
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kyber-Crystal Bleeding, AFAB Reader, Dyad Shenanigans, Canon-Divergent, Dual POV, Second Person POV (Reader) to Third Person POV (Maul), Mish-Mash of Canon & Legends (because canon is lame sometimes), Mentions of "Wrath of Darth Maul", Savage Lives AU, Mandalore Era & No Beta We Die Like Half the Cast.
You were kneeling down in the dark, cradling small glowing kyber crystals in your hands. They were cool against your bare palms, like icicles that never melted. You were connected to the tiny things. You could hear them whispering, hear the light, enchanted humming calling to you like a siren’s song, like the first time you found them in the ice caves of Ilum.
Maul was also kneeling down in front of you, his leather-gloved hands cradling yours. He knew what was to come, and he was guiding you through it, a comforting shroud as you let every single negative emotion well up within you like a tempest, building until your chest felt tight and your eyes stung.
The crystals pulsed weakly in your palms, and you mourned, mourned who you used to be, the quiet life you used to live. You missed the days of wandering, of hunting the strings that connected you to the dark, of destroying Sith artifacts that no one else could. It had been solitary work, but peaceful, methodical, a challenge and a trial every day. Yet now, you called upon those strings again, to guide you deeper down this pit you had fallen into. You were no stranger to shadow, to the dark side, but for all these years, you had resisted the temptation of it, always toeing the line and bordering a point between light and dark.
But now, you were giving in.
You were giving in to all of those terrible feelings, and all you felt was blinding hot white rage; the empire had taken everything from you. Your home, your family, your entire life, it had all slipped through your fingers so fast you’d barely had time to process it. You’d barely managed to scrape by and survive, only for the force to guide you to Maul.
Your crystal crackled against your fingers, fighting you viciously, pressing against your mind. Flashes of memory filtered through your mind, of good things, of the days you spent in the creche, of battles won through patience, all the joy and fulfillment you had felt serving the Jedi, the people you had grown to love and care for. Your duty had been to protect and now…
What would your master think of you now? You wondered in your head. Knowing what you were willingly giving into, knowing the desperate choice you were making.
“Don’t let up; it will fight you. Don’t let it win,” Maul murmured to you, sensing your brief hesitation, a growl in his voice as his fingers curled tighter around your hands.
And so, you fought the crystals, pushing and pushing— until something cracked and shattered like glass. You let out a guttural, choked scream, squeezing and pouring every ounce of hate you had left in your heart, every grievance, every time you felt alone, abandoned, cast aside in favor of another. Grief, it was all-consuming grief and anger that finally did you in, your shoulders slumping and your body doubling over, curling in around your kyber crystals.
A bright flash of light swallowed the room, engulfing your vision despite the fact that you had squeezed your eyes shut in the chaos of it all. You heard Maul’s breath hitch, and you felt an unsettling sensation wash over you.
When you opened your eyes, it almost looked like the crystals were smoldering in your hands. All of the color seeped from them, bleeding into a deep, viscous red until they were throbbing, yet solid. The crystals weren’t fighting back anymore; instead, it felt as if they were mourning too. Now beating with new life, with the same thicker, darker energy that had been dwelling in your heart, encapsulated in such a small form.
You were heaving by the end of it, fingers trembling. Your crystals were no longer cool against your hand; instead, they were achingly warm. They no longer hummed; instead, they screamed in pure grief, as if they were in agony. Like you, these crystals would never be the same, forever changed and irreversibly altered. You had harmed and corrupted something sacred, and the thought greatly unsettled you. Before you could even realize it, you felt tears dripping down your cheeks. You sobbed, salty tears dripping onto the crystals still clutched tightly in your hands.
Maul finally shifted, cupping your hands together in his own and pressing them to your chest as he dragged you forward onto his lap and into his arms. You trembled in his arms at first, listening to the eerie cries of your kyber crystals echoing through your mind. Was all of this really worth it? You wondered. You had corrupted this last small piece of you, completely ruined the last bit of light you had been clinging to in an effort to adapt to your new circumstances, to adapt to Maul.
It was a necessary evil, he would say.
“This will pass. It will wash over you, and you will hone this hate and anger into a weapon against those who wronged you.” He soothed, his voice low against your ear as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, rocking you back and forth gently as you struggled to breathe, clutching tightly at the fabric of his robes. You didn’t want him to let you go; you wouldn’t be able to bear it in a state like this.
“You will not fail. You will have your revenge,” He murmured, but the words were deaf to your ears. Maul had damaged you, seduced you with promises of sweet revenge and the ineffable power to carry it out, then dragged you down to the depths of his own corruption. But at the same time, he had built you back up, swept up the shards that remained of you, and forged them into something sharper, molding you in his image.
Somehow, you still loved him for it.
He had held you together by sheer will, refused to let you break beyond his tedious repair. Even after harsh training that left you bruised and bleeding, after scathing remarks meant to break you down, after excruciating. needling, constant pain, all meant to innately connect you to the dark side. He would hold you in his arms, praise you for your strength, your bravery, the wonderful weapon you were becoming. He would ensure your wounds were mended, that no unnecessary damage or defilement came to you, that no permanent markings were left upon your skin unless you chose it.
He claimed that this all had a grand, glorious purpose, that the actions you made now were a necessary evil to defeat the Empire. You didn’t believe him, even if the lie was honeyed and sweet, luring you into false security. In the aftermath of it all, you felt your bond was stronger, your heart racing against his own dual hearts, as he rubbed soothing circles over your spine.
You could feel him more keenly than before; you had finally crossed the line you had been edging for so long, and the connection between the two of you was clearer than ever before. You could feel it in him: the feeling of pride, of changing you in such an irreversible way, and then something much deeper, much further down the depths of the psyche.
He didn’t feel alone anymore.
Despite it all, the feeling made you feel that maybe there was worth to this entire endeavor, that at the very least, you had cemented yourself at his side. You had given him hope in a way that, for once in his life, someone would stay with him, not out of duty or requirement, but out of genuine want.
You were falling further and further into him, but you couldn’t see yourself anywhere else but here.
With him, always.
── .✦ 🩸
When you fell asleep in his arms, Maul sighed, rolling his shoulders back, his muscles tense and sore from holding you so tight, simply to keep you from shaking. He rose from the ground, keeping you firmly in his arms, one arm under your thighs that were now wrapped around his waist, while his fingers were spread out against your spine, holding up your back as you were nestled into his neck.
He carried you out of the room, navigating through the darkened halls of the palace. He brought you to his own bedroom; you had your own, of course, nearby, but more often than nought you simply slept next to him anyway. He entered the room as soundlessly as he could, aside from the light whoosh of the metal doors opening and shutting behind him.
He tugged the pair of bled crystals out of your hands before tucking you into the silken bedsheets. He turned away from you and toward the moonlit, arched window. Looking down at the glowing red crystals in his gloved hands, he felt a twisted sense of pride in corrupting the innocence and kindness you once possessed— now turned into complete grief and anger.
You were almost unrecognizable now, maybe not in appearance or demeanor, but in the force that surrounded you. Like your crystals, the pure color had been bled from you and siphoned into a new part of a bigger machine. The gentle light that had once followed your every step was gone, replaced with a mourning veil that lingered like smoke. The pure agony of your grief, of the life taken from you, outweighed any sense of hatred or anger you could feel, but it was enough for you to fall.
It was only then, maybe, he decided, that he felt a pang of guilt.
He had once held the warm, purifying glow of your light in his hands, the compassion and gentle nature you once possessed, all encompassing, until he made sure it was snuffed out by his own hand. He had never laid a hand on you, never forced you onto this path, but he had also assisted you every step of the way, guided you further and further, deeper into the dark until you were drowning in it, helpless.
Only then did he give you the tools to rise again on your own two feet.
His feelings on the topic were deep, yet internally conflicted. The force had called him to you, bonded him to you inexplicably over a very great distance. He felt that it was no coincidence, something of fate, you were meant to fall to the dark, to him. But you still felt so out of his reach like this, when the light still clung to you in little ways, in the way you cared for him, for others close to you, in the honor and grace you still possessed. The light was trying to guide you back home.
Away from him.
Maybe it was wrong, but he needed you in this way. At his side, dependent on him, willing to allow him to drag you to the depths of any abyss in exchange for only the promise of his word and the reassurance that he needed you just as much.
But yet, he knew as much as he was to cling to you that you would be ripped away like most things in his life. He was hesitant to attach himself to you, when everything he ever got close to was mercilessly burned.
He liked you.
He had realized some time ago now, but hadn’t dared to confront the feeling head-on yet. The affection he felt for you wasn’t very subtle anymore, not just something he could chalk up to misplaced feelings of protectiveness or happenstance. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt a feeling like this, at least not since Savage.
He didn’t want to see you crumble into ash.
His clenched hand dropped to his side, and he turned back to the bed, chancing a glance at your sleeping form, before pacing over to the other side of it. He debated placing your crystals in his bedside drawer to return to you in the morning for a moment, but he found he wasn’t quite ready to relinquish them.
He watched for a few moments, then he carefully lay down on his side next to you, trying his best not to jostle you and wake you. He watched your subtle breaths as your chest rose and fell; your face was still tearstained, but your expression was delicately peaceful. He sighed, his eyes half-lidded while he held your kyber crystals in one hand, the other reaching over to you. His fingertips brushed against your warm skin, his thumb petting over your cheek tenderly as he drank in every minute detail of your face. How lucky, he thought, that the force would bring you to him in this way.
“Oh, poor Maul, all he ever wanted was a friend.” The lecherous voice crept into his thoughts, completely unwanted and unwarranted. He hissed quietly as his fingers flinched away from your skin as if he were burned, jerking his hand back to his chest, his hand clenching into a tight fist.
He swallowed and rolled over onto his back, his nose scrunching as he stared at the ceiling above instead. From failure after failure in finding an apprentice— an equal. He had found you. And in some way, you adored him, even if he had trouble comprehending why sometimes. But passion was a fundamental of the Sith, he supposed, and it was something you possessed, even if that passion seemed only reserved for him. He could hear your unfiltered thoughts regarding him, and it drove him mad sometimes. It was… flattering, sometimes, but he couldn’t help the way he pushed you away.
There was a lingering feeling that one day you might feel the call to the light again, that you might chase it and leave him behind. But he resolved then and there that he wouldn’t allow it, that he would do everything in his power to keep you where you belonged.
With him.
In his arms.
At his side.
Sharing his thoughts, his mind, his body, all with you.
Only you.
The very idea was an intoxicating fantasy he hadn’t stopped thinking about since he met you, since the force called him to you.
If Maul had learned anything from Sidious, it was that for the simple pleasure of ensuring your loyalty, there were certain lines he would never cross with you.
When he first found you, hidden away from inquisitors and the meddling of the empire, he had initially presented himself to you on neutral ground, offered you aid when you were injured, extended every courtesy toward you— and to his surprise, you had taken it well despite your initial wariness.
He knew you needed to have hate in your heart in order to truly be immersed in the dark, but he had a revelation that the hate you needed needn’t be directed toward him. You could hate the Empire, his business associates, and everything else, just not him. You could be angry with him all you liked, too, feel enough rage to wish to claw his eyes out if you wanted, anger was temporary— hate was not.
He had hated his master with his entire being, almost painfully so, and he still did. But out of all the things for you to hate, Maul didn’t want it to be him. He had decided shortly after he received you that he would try something different; he wanted you loyal, he wanted you strong, he wanted your trust, and above all, he desired your affections, your love in the purest form he could manage.
He had spent years of his life lamenting in a cold, metal room, raised in cruelty and brutalized— then used as a tool and discarded as one. In his entire life, no one had ever shown him affection like this, and he had barely ever reciprocated. He had come close, a time or two. But never so strongly like this, never to the point that he could feel such an overwhelming connection across the galaxy.
He was determined to ensure that he would never feel the gaping ache of being alone again. Never feel as if he were alone in the galaxy, waiting for someone like you, he realized.
He had an epiphany that night, lying next to you while you slept so soundly.
He loved you more than he would ever be able to express.
And he would give anything, do anything, to keep you at his side.
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
hiya! can you write like.. a kinda fluffy fic with HABIT regarding Valentines Day, since its coming up fairly soon? love ur work, ive been binge reading most of the day lol!!
࣪ ִֶָ☾. - [|✧ Be Mine ✧|] (HABIT x Reader) Drabble
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count: 0.9K // Summary: A complete summary of maybe the weirdest date of your life.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | A/N: Happy Belated Valentine's Anon! Spending it with my fifteen fictional husbands this year lmao. I already had this planned when you requested it!!! Sadly plenty of complications hit afterward, chalking it up to author’s curse lol. I was thinking about Red Flags by Tom Cardy the entire time I wrote this. It's not fully fledged out, so I apologize for the quality. TwT
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Rating: SFW // Content Warnings: N/A
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, AFAB Reader, Fluff-Adjacent?, Evan Myers is Mentioned But It’s All Habit & No Beta We Die Like Jeff.
You squirmed in your seat, tugging the hem of your dress down your thighs a bit as your date across from you, unashamedly staring at you through his eyelashes, hands folded underneath his chin, and a sharp grin on his face.
Evan was... strange, to say the least.
You met him by chance when you stayed late at the gym one evening. He was sweet, quirky, and a bit of a health freak. He gave off golden retriever energy, and he was almost flustered when you started talking to him. So when he asked for your phone number and asked you on a date, you jumped at the chance.
But now that he was on a date with you, you were completely and utterly creeped out. Everything about him screamed uncanny valley or serial killer waiting to catch you off guard.
You were almost half sure that he might murder you by the end of the night, but at the same time, he was hot. Really, hot, so for every reason against the gods or your own self-preservation, you were entertaining the ordeal.
The first thing you noticed when he showed up was that he hadn’t bothered to dress up at all, in ripped jeans and a flannel with dark stains on the edge of his sleeves— and had he always had such dark blue eyes? They almost bordered on purple. Not to mention he smelled like mildew and wet dog, it wasn’t even raining, but it was the first strike on your list of red flags.
Secondly, he showed up late with a bouquet of dark red roses, wilted, red roses to be precise, and practically shoved them into your lap. Which made you cringe when you found ants clinging to the petals— not a good sign.
Then, finally, to the point you were at now, you were sitting across from him, watching him tear into an oozing, bloody steak. Your stomach churned a little. There was nothing wrong with the steak being a little bloody, but what he ordered was basically raw. ‘Blue Rare,’ you think he said. You scrunched your nose a little, trying not to focus on it too much. He didn't have any qualms at all, cutting into the steak as you cringed, trying to focus on your own order of alfredo pasta, picking at it with your fork.
Whether this date would be worth it or not remained to be seen.
“So… uhm, what do you do for work?” You asked sweetly, trying to coax him into light conversation, pushing around the pasta on your plate. It was almost eerie, sitting in a secluded corner, only dim candlelight lighting the table and the chandelier off to the side.
“I do contracting,” his eyes shifted from side to side as he said it, which made you raise an eyebrow.
“What kind?” You asked tentatively, still trying to drag any sort of personable conversation from him.
“…Private security,” He mused, but the smirk he gave you in return sent shivers down your spine.
“…Okay…” You muttered back, glancing back down at your plate. Awkward silence settled between the two of you, or at least on your end, he seemed perfectly content tearing into his damn near raw steak. Like an animal.
You leaned back in your chair, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap, debating whether or not you should flag down a waiter for the check so you could run.
“You um… like knives?” You asked warily, pointing out the knife holstered to his hip.
His eyes lit up a bit, his grin spreading a little wider. “Yeah, I do. I’m a collector.”
Maybe he was just odd then, you thought, as he almost adoringly described what model knife he was carrying— and then about a few that he had back home. You wondered if you were overthinking this. Sure, he had some odd behavior, but maybe he had done a few things right. He pulled your chair out for you, brought flowers (even if you were almost positive he had stolen them from a grave on the way here), and at the very least, he had been sweet enough to foot the bill early on during the date. He was a gym-freak, maybe the steak thing was similar to eating raw eggs for protein, it was still gross, of course, but gave you a perfectly rational reason to reconsider whether or not this date was a bad idea.
You spent a little while chatting after that. He had macabre interests, but he was much more personable when he was talking about them. He was… sweet, in a way. Charming when he sleazily complimented your outfit and how you cleaned up for the date, then asked a few questions about your background- where you lived, your first nightmare as a child, and your first pet, or if you’d ever had one.
It wasn’t until the end of the date that he reached across the table, putting his hand over yours and giving you probably the most charming smile, when he leaned forward and whispered to you.
“You know… This was nice. How about another date? Your pick,” He offered lowly, eyes glinting in the dim light.
You hesitantly accepted, and all you knew was that when you walked home that night, after thanking him for dinner, you were keenly aware of the eyes following you from somewhere in the dark.
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
So neat that you got to 1K!!! And so many good prompts, it’s almost hard to pick just one! You are such a good writer and it’s nice to see you getting recognition for it. ^w^
But here’s a request based off the prompts list: Prompt 14, Pre-Phantom Menace Era, Darth Maul x AFAB!Reader.
Well wishes! - 💜🎱✨
A/N: thank you for the kind words!! 🤩 and YEEOUCH! star-crossed with Pre-TPM maul is like... ultimate doom and despair 💔 definitely not a relationship for the faint of heart, that's for damn sure 😭
Prompt 14.) Character and Reader, star-crossed lovers, meet in secret.
content: 18+, afab!reader (can be read as gn! tbh), angst, established relationship, maul is hardcore sith in this but he never says the word, almost break up, impending sense of doom
word count: 2,039
bad moon rising | darth maul x reader
The chrono clicks above your head, each second as unrelenting as the next. Your palms are sweaty from clenching your hands into fists, so you force yourself to open them, pressing them flat against your thighs. Somehow, your apartment doesn't feel like yours, and everything feels foreign. A crash from somewhere out in the city makes you jump. Glaring lights and neon signs from adjacent skyscrapers are interrupted by passing airspeeders, tossing multicolored silhouettes on your quaint walls.
He should have been here by now. He said he'd arrive before midnight, and now it's a quarter past one. You've been up since he notified you on the secure comm. A day and a half ago. You'd barely been able to eat.
The doorbell chimes, and you lurch at the sound. As if possessed, you race to your front door like its the light at the end of the tunnel. There's the deadbolt you unlock with shaking fingers, the chain you slide to open and let dangle like a shimmering metal tail. It takes everything in your power to still your pounding heart. You throw open the door, revealing a cloaked, dark figure.
Eyes like twin flames meet yours.
"Maul!" You gasp, throwing your arms around his shoulders and into the tightest hug you can muster. He breathes your name in an exhale, his arms wrapping just as tight around you, the black fabric of his cloak falling around you like a shade. Immediately, you feel at home. You dig your face into the crook of the Zabrak's muscled neck, the rough material of his hood somewhat scratchy. He smells like cedar and the nighttime air of Coruscant, an artificial, metallic scent that can linger on anyone outside long enough.
"I apologize for being late." He rumbles into your hair, tenderly kissing the crown of your head. When Maul pulls back ever so slightly to rest his strong hands on the curve of your hips, you're able to see his face up close and notice his weary disposition. His work— Whatever it is— must be pulling him thin in all directions. But he offers you a smile, small but meaningful, and it is as warm as the sun.
"It's okay. You're here now." You reply with ease, returning his smile, and kissing him when he leans in. His lips mold to yours, his mouth hot and passionate as he greedily gulps down your soft whimpers, tongue sliding against yours. Maul steps into your apartment, all but walking you with him as he deepens the kiss, and the door shuts autonomously after him. For a wonderful amount of time, Maul and you simply enjoy each other, relishing in the mutual warmth of your bodies, hands gripping wherever they wander. It'd been too long since you'd last seen your lover in person, too long since he's held you firm by the waist. Maul lifts one gloved hand, gliding it up your heaving sternum, your neck, until he cups your jaw.
"Your heart is racing." He purrs after he breaks the kiss, and you'd normally be reduced to a flushed mess after he ravishes you, but his words lack their usual bite. More so, past the relief and adoration you see in his tired eyes, there is a distant, permeating pain. The warm contentment that had bloomed inside you starts to fade as doubt takes its place.
"I was worried." You confess, feeling your heart sink into your gut as the sad look grows more significant. Maul's small smile slips from his face like sand being blown in the wind, his dark tattoos making his deep frown more prominent. His hand still cradles your face, so you lean into his touch and he hums in appreciation. Still, it doesn't seem like its enough.
"You needn't worry for me, my dear." Maul's response is oddly morose, which only adds to the sick sensation in your core. His thumb glides over your kiss swollen lips before he swoops in for another, this time tender but brief. It feels like the kisses he'd give you before leaving for a long stretch of time, distinctly like a Goodbye.
"You're worth worrying for." It's meant to tease, meant to uplift, but unfortunately only seems to upset Maul further. He pulls away from you almost entirely, tethered only by his hand that clasps your wrist. You allow him to guide you to your couch, and you sink into the plush cushion when he bids you to do so. Maul remains standing tall and stiff, a pillar of shadow against the window of your balcony doors.
On any other night, you'd find his presence equal parts imposing and intriguing: Maul is nothing if not a mystery only you were permitted to solve. However, tonight feels different. Things have been different. It was only a matter of time, you think bracing yourself for the bad moon to rise.
"These dalliances—" He begins, and you just know what he's going to say. To spare yourself any more heartache, you muster up what's left of your shaky fortitude to interrupt immediately, even if your eyes sting and your voice trembles.
"If you've come to break up with me: Just leave." Maul almost flinches at the sorrow in your words, his upper lip twitching before he shakes his head.
"No— No!" Maul's indignation is quick, a bolt of hot fury dissipating his somber mood long enough to make him appear more normal. He crosses the living room in few long strides until he's dropped to his knees before you, nestled between your thighs. The Zabrak finally tosses his hood from his head, his crown of horns glinting in the lights from outside. He looks less dour with his crimson face fully exposed, and his eyes wide and glowing faintly in the dark.
"I do not seek to forsake our relationship." Maul says hastily, taking your hands in his again, raising them to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He continues, red and black lips hovering over your hands, "You misunderstand. I... I need to tell you something of utmost importance."
"What?" You croak, trying to blink back the tears that have gathered at the edges of your eyes. Again, Maul's expression becomes closed off, soured. He clenches his eyes shut and curses, then opens them again, his amber eyed stare faraway.
"I have not been entirely honest with you." He says slowly, after a stint of internal deliberation, and at the spark of worry and skip of your heart, he reaches up to cradle your face again. His gaze pierces yours with a decidedness reflected in his tone. Maul's touch is slow and thoughtful, his warm fingertips skimming your cheek like he would fine china.
"Oh, Maul..." You rue, wanting to shake your head of all the possibilities, wishing it to be something easy to swallow, and you look away. Maul turns your face back to him, watching vibrant colors from neon signs paint the mournful look on your face into something beautiful.
"I cannot stay long. I leave for Naboo in mere hours." Maul whispers, his thumb smoothing back and forth across the soft skin of your cheek. You swallow at the intense look that turns his expression, dread sitting heavy in your belly like a stone. The Zabrak's next words are brisk, like he recoils from a poison as he spits, "And it is for wretched business, my love."
"Tell me." You demand, "Tell me, Maul."
Maul is silent, emotions you have no words for playing openly across his face. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, and the tortured look in his fiery eyes is as alarming as the shudder that possesses his entire body. Part of you wonders what could possibly unsettle him so, but the other part of you has an inkling. More than once he has returned to you battered and bloodied, incensed with the fury of a madman. Those days, deep down, he frightened you. It forced you to acknowledge that long-hilted lightsaber on his hip.
Tonight, the acknowledgement is laid bare.
"I will not lie to you, my love." Maul's voice drops to a low whisper, "It is to kill the Queen."
Oh. All the air is stolen from your lungs in an instant. A coldness wraps around your heart, confirming many of the thoughts you've ignored for so long. The man you've let into your heart morphs from the single dimension you know him in, and suddenly Maul— whose eyes pierce with their sheer resolve— is not as he seemed to be. You wonder about the promises he'd made to you; the home he wished to build with you, the children he sought to have. You wonder how many he's killed and will kill to ensure that future.
"Why?" You ask shakily, though not jumping when Maul suddenly seizes your hands in his. His stare is profound, unrelenting like he looks straight into your soul and then some. Maul is normally very serious, but this is a level near grave. Lights from outside oscillate between blue and red, and in the intermittent darkness, his eyes flash.
"Control." He growls, emphasizing by squeezing your hands, the leather of his gloves squeaking, "The galaxy is lawless, unruly. Too many planets and their systems do as they please, allowing dissent and piracy. Unchecked. Chaotic."
Maul's eyes are somehow both wild and focused, and he seems almost frantic, like you're a fretting bird he's caught in his grasp. He smiles, a humorless laugh passing his lips in an exhale. It looks like a strange excitement. You've never seen him like this.
"Please understand that what we do is for the best. The Republic has lost all credibility, the Senate is weak, and in the shadows my Mast—" Maul cuts off his own words, silencing himself to a jarring degree. Aside from the city noises and your own heartbeat, the silence is deafening. Maul stands, looking down at you with that unrecognizable emotion again.
Who are you, Maul?
A soft ping. Maul fishes his comm device from his cloak, expression steeling as reads the notification of whoever is contacting him. Like he has before when he's gotten this call, he pulls so abruptly from you its as if you've burned him. In long strides, he steps out onto your balcony, but even with his back to you, you can see the harsh blue of a holo projection peek around his shoulders. Whoever he speaks to seems to be synoptic, as the conversation only lasts mere seconds and Maul makes his way back inside. Just as the glass door slides closed behind him, you stand. The two of you stare at each other.
"I do this for you. Everything is for you." Maul murmurs, extending a palm to you. As you had early, your body moves on its own volition, each step drawing you like a magnetic pull to the Zabrak. When you take his hand— warm and chivalrous— you understand. With you, he can afford to be the person he can't in any other context. Maul brings you in close, his forehead touching yours as his lips pause just before yours, hesitant. You answer him with a kiss, eyelashes fluttering shut as his mouth devours you. Parting from him to catch your breath feels like surfacing from an ocean.
Maul unfurls himself from you, setting his shoulders as he straightens up, becoming that unflappable, poised man again. The sickness in your core hasn't gone, but has dwindled to an ache you can ignore. Though, maybe you've been ignorant for too long. Maul dips his head to you, parting slowly, finger by finger. You can't help but feel he is gone in more ways than one.
"I will return." Maul calls from in front of the doorway, throwing his hood over his head once again. You nod, a silent Okay. He returns it with a small, sad smile that is masked with shadow. Neither of you necessarily believe him.
He pivots on his heel, cloak fluttering, and just before the door closes on him, a beam of headlights from an airspeeder crosses the width of the room, unimpeded as it bisects Maul at the waist as a thin, blue line.
I GET SO EXCITED WHENEVER I SEE A NOTIFICATION FROM U YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDDDD ❤️🩹❤️🩹 thank you sm for the meal we’re eating good tonite 🥹
Thank you so much!!! TwT I get really excited when I hear from people like you who enjoy my writing. It genuinely makes me feel so happy. I’m so glad you liked it!!! I have a few more things coming this week now that I’ve got a lot of time to write! I hope you’ll like them too! 💜✨
heya! I read all your HABIT/Evan stuff and I'm absolutely in loveeee ^^ could you do habit x hyena hybrid reader? W/ the ears, tail, same teeth and spots random places? :3 maybe something with fluff or smut, or both, you choose hehe
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count: 0.5K // Summary: Being Habit's pet isn't all bad.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | A/N: Thank you! Your request is granted!!! This is such a cute concept! Since I couldn’t choose, you are getting a little amalgamation of both! A little spice and a little sweetness.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Rating: SFW // Content Warnings: N/A
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, AFAB Reader, Fluff, A Little Bit of Spice, Extremely Mild Bloodplay & No Beta We Die Like Jeff.
You were lounging on the bed, back to the door, your tail flicking from side to side as you scrolled through social media on your phone, tapping to read something every so often. It wasn’t all bad being a house pet; you were mostly free to do as you pleased, with the exception of leaving the house. Maybe the collar he had stuck onto you was a bit of a pain, but it was barely noticeable when you were preoccupied.
Habit had a certain appreciation for you, maybe for your uniqueness; it wasn’t every iteration that a hybrid like you came along. So, he didn’t particularly bother to hide his truer form from you, his own tail and ears full on display when he was around you, his pincers hidden underneath his shirts.
He came up behind you, flopping down on top of you and caging you in his arms, bulging forearms wrapped around your neck.
“Watcha doin’?” He cooed, mockery oozing from his tone. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes in exasperation. He seemed to be in a pleasant mood for once, so you tilted your phone screen to him so he could see what you were reading.
He glanced over your shoulder to peer at what you were reading, before simply snickering and burying his face in your neck.
You continued to read while he petted the small, soft patches of fur at your neck, blending into your hair, and each of the little dark spots that faded into your skin. Your tail wagged a little, hips squirming as he petted you; you weren’t exactly above this particular brand of affection from him.
Suddenly, he nipped at your neck, drawing blood and startling a laugh out of you. You growled playfully back at him, elbowing his side just hard enough to make him shift off of you. He winced theatrically, pretending to rub a bruise on his chest before grinning and leaning closer again.
In a playful gesture, you bit back at his cheek, leaving a small, barely noticeable, but still bleeding mark. But he only shook his head with a grimace, but couldn't help but smile at your mischievous expression.
“Rabid fuckin' thing...” He said, half-jokingly, as he playfully tugged at the collar around your neck. You knew it was a game, a way for him to assert his dominance, but you also enjoyed the thrill of it. He gently guided you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, and you felt his erection through the fabric of his jeans. You licked at the little bit of blood on your lips, your eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Ahhh, I forgive you,” he said, his voice filled with affection. His tail was wagging as he dragged you down with him, wrestling you down with him as you lightly laughed, claws digging into his shoulders.
“But you’re gonna regret that,” he muttered low into your ear, sensing a thrill through your body as his hands found your hips and locked you against him.
Today would be a good day.
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
I hope your doing well!!! I have arrived with another song rec ofc ^^
Evan needs more love and attention uahghg, and recently ive had this song stuck in my head n I think it really gives evan x reader vibes xd
"I Think I Love You" by The Partridge Family
I’ve actually never heard this song before! >:O
And yeah, the lyrics really scream Evan to me too. TwT
“I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream, Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain”
Like right off the bat it reminds me of his sleep study videos at the beginning of the series. And:
“This morning I woke up with this feeling, I didn't know how to deal with and so I just decided to myself, I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it”
This part aughhhhhh so much angst potential. I hope you know I’m slowly banking all your song recs so I can use them for fics. X3 But damn, yeah there so many Habit fics but none of Evan! It’s a shame.
And I’m doing well!!! Just busy, more time for schooling and work and less time for smut and fanfics sadly. Break time should be coming up so I’ll have a bit more time to indulge. I hope you’re doing good as well, I’m still enjoying your art and fics!!!
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count: 1.5k // Summary: Maul's palpable stress leads you to a bath with him.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | A/N: I'm trying to find my creative rhythm again, I feel like a lot of what I write feels objective now, not very symbolic or as 'flowery' as I'd like. So bear with me while I try to find my voice again. Also, EP 8 - 10 fucking killed me, so give me 4 - 5 business days to recover lmfao.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Rating: SFW // Content Warnings: A little bit of blood.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, Slight Angst, AFAB Reader, Dyad Shenanigans, Fluff (to heal my soul after episode 8), Domestic Fluff, Casual Intimacy, Chronic Neck Pain, Canon-Divergent, Feral & Savage Live AU, Mandalore Era & No Beta We Die Like Half the Cast.
Sparkling moonlight filtered through the tall latticed windows, bathing the halls in iridescent light. You could feel him from across the palace, his slow, steady breaths, the gentle laps of water brushing against his shoulders. You followed the sensation like a string, pulling it taut and letting it guide you to him.
The doors to your shared private chambers slid open as you strode inside, kicking off your rugged boots and socks at the door and placing them neatly against the wall. You ran your fingers through your hair as you wandered fully into your bedroom, glancing over to the right.
He hadn’t bothered to shut the door to the bath, and you could smell something akin to amber and spice lingering in the air, soothing you. It was an open invitation that you accepted eagerly; you missed him dearly, even though you slept in the same bed and brushed against his presence in the halls; it wasn't enough. You needed to see him, to feel him, to fill the ravenous, empty pit that you felt when your other half wasn't around.
You peered into the bathroom, your fingers curled around the rough metal door frame. The entire room was covered from floor to ceiling in glossy black marble tile, a large, deep tub in the center of the room, and a tall, tinted window behind it that overlooked the courtyards below. It was elegant, ornate, and distinctly regal; never in your life could you have imagined residing in a place like this, with creature comforts that had never been afforded to either you or Maul. You were sitting in the pinnacle of luxury now, and you could've never dreamed of it.
Maul was sitting in the pristine porcelain tub, his eyes closed and his body fully submerged up to the bridge of his nose, the water still enough that his reflection was clear against it. His coloring noticeably stood out against the muted colors of the room, blood-red skin harshly contrasting against the ceramic. You waited for a moment, not quite entering his space, instead lingering right at the edge of it, almost toeing at the edge of his perception, waiting for permission.
You could hear the rasp of his voice curling into your mind like fog, then piercing through your thoughts as clear as a sharp-edged dagger.
“Enter.”
You didn’t wait, padding into the room, bare feet against the cool tile.
You shed your garments into a small pile on the damp marble floor, stretching your arms above your head as your gaze shifted over to the tub where he was sitting. He didn't move, didn't even bristle as you straddled the edge of the tub, carefully dipping your toes in. The water was lukewarm now, but soap suds still clung to the thin surface like film. You sank down into the water until it encompassed your shoulders, careful not to disturb him too much. When you settled in between his legs, the metal of his calves brushing against your thighs as you sat on your knees, the water steadying, he opened his eyes.
“It’s late.”
“We barely see each other during the day anymore.” You murmured back, running your fingers through your hair. His eyes almost seemed to glow, reflecting the minimal light in the room.
“I wanted to see you,” you added, leaning forward slightly. His gaze flickered, his shoulders tensed, his eyes narrowed. As gentle as your tone was, he still seemed to believe you were scolding him.
“It has not been by choice.” He replied briskly, a tinge of disappointment coloring the echo of his voice.
“I know.” You reassured.
His tattoos almost seemed to glisten in the low light, a thin sheen of water clinging to his skin and dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he slowly sat up with a sigh, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, cracking his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders. His muscular build blocked the moonlight cascading from the window behind him, casting a looming shadow over you.
“…Let me help you,” you gently offered, reaching out to him with one hand, fingertips brushing over the skin of his arm.
He was stiff and weary in a way that felt like his bones were aching from the inside out, emanating to you through your inexplicable bond. He let out a huff of air, scowling as your fingers grazed along his bicep.
“I’ll be fine.” He muttered, brushing you off gently, tugging your hand away from his arm before he simply glanced away, his hand falling back to his side as hurt flickered across your features. He was being resistant again, pushing you away when it was clear he was in pain. You frowned, scrunching your nose. You couldn’t push him far, but you knew how to drag him right back to you.
“Don’t push me away.” You leaned forward again, whispering into his ear, soft, pleading. You reach back out to him, dragging your nails up his chest before resting your hands firmly on his shoulders. He tensed on instinct, but slowly eased into your ministrations as the pads of your fingers prodded for the tight muscles of his shoulders. He leaned into it, even as your fingers inched up his neck, still rubbing deep, soothing circles into tight muscles and taut tendons.
His breathing grew heavier, quickened at the sensation, and you swore you could feel his skin heating up against your skin.
You prodded gently at the barriers he kept tightly wound over his mind, guarding himself. He was hesitant, but gave you reluctant entrance. Sheer stress oozed into your skin from his, dripping into your thoughts as you closed your eyes, navigating the familiar sense of darkness that connected you. On the surface level, hiding his truer thoughts was unbidden memories of years of training and war- the acrid tang of blood, smoke, and anything raw and unsavory filling your senses and taste. It was simply a mask, an obstacle that you dipped around. Because below it at all, in the depths, behind the layers and barriers, was more of his core, his worries, his stressors.
The stressors of training his brothers and the Empire’s forces slowly closing in on Mandalore were prominent. Then you felt… fear, pure creeping fear. Fear for your safety, fear for the safety of his brothers. Fear that all led right back to the root.
Sidious.
All encompassing, encroaching on his thoughts like a nightmare that neither of you could seem to truly run away from. You grimaced at the mere thought, but you knew how his mind went in circles. From the root of the past, to the present, to the endless future, constantly and without end. Sometimes you felt like your head might explode, sharing a mind with him like this when he was so deeply afraid.
But you gently coaxed him forward, until you were pressed chest to chest, damp skin squishing together, your hands drifting down to glide over the ridges of his spine. Maul’s apprehension was palpable, his fingers twitching below the water. You took each pulsing memory, each distressing, paranoid thought, and began to unravel them like a rusted, tangled chain. It was a gift, to have his trust in this way, to be entrusted with something so fragile as his very thoughts. He was so prone to shattering like glass, only to meld back together by the fires of his rage as something messy and new. But each time you were there, to bear witness to the change, to watch him rise and inevitably fall again. But each time you were there to pick the pieces of him back up again, to shelter him until he could recover.
“Things will be on our terms this time.” You whispered to him. Desire simmered in his gaze and drifted freely through your thoughts. It wrapped around you both, steady and certain. Forehead to forehead, his lips mere inches from yours. For a moment, the world narrowed to just this—just him. Your breath mingled in the narrow space, warm and unsteady. Neither of you dared to move, savoring the fragile moment and too scared to break the fragile moment.
“…Thank you.” He mumbled, calloused thumbs rubbing circles into your hips beneath the surface of the water. The words sounded rough, dragged out of him against his pride, yet there was something distinctly vulnerable about it, something carefully unguarded. But it meant everything to you. You returned the affection in kind, your hands drifting up to rub at the base of his horns. A low growl rumbled from his chest, but you didn’t mind. He was relaxed now, as much as he could bring himself to be.
Your nails dug into his back as he pressed messy kisses along the curve of your neck. He grabbed you more firmly by the hips, dragging you forward until you were sitting on his thighs. His teeth bared, blood beading up from the wound and dripping into the water below. He lapped up the remnants from your sin before muttering into your ear, mirroring your statement.
“Things will be different this time.” He echoed it softly, a vow meant only for you.
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Please Note: This tracker will be updated periodically as I make progress on the requests/projects I'm working on. The tracker is simply to show where I'm at with certain requests and whether or not I'm presently working on them.
🐇 | Cry Me a River Part 3 (Habit x Reader) | IN PROGRESS
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . | ■■□□□ 40%
── .✦. | Anon Request: (Cut Down Slightly.) This takes place probably a few months after reader hears HABIT’s confession before she dozed off to sleep. So reader is basically minding her own business, HABIT allows for her to be outside and reader is slowly but carefully accepting HABIT. And then the operator shows up and does his static thingy and she ends up in the candleverse and tries to hurt her. And then HABIT shows up in his TRUE FORM (yes ik 🥹⭐️) and saves her. And then that moment where she sees his true form is basically like a bonding moment and the reader truly comes to see how true his words were (from second part of cry me a river) and then they go back to normal universe and from than on HABIT becomes more comfortable with her.
── .✦. | Anon Request: hiya! can you write like.. a kinda fluffy fic with HABIT regarding Valentines Day, since its coming up fairly soon? love ur work, ive been binge reading most of the day lol!!
🐾 | Unnamed (Habit x Hyena-Hybrid!Reader) | ON HOLD
𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . | ■□□□□ 20%
── .✦. | Anon Request: and I'm absolutely in loveeee ^^ could you do habit x hyena hybrid reader? W/ the ears, tail, same teeth and spots random places? :3 maybe something with fluff or smut, or both, you choose hehe
── .✦. | Anon Request: AUGHH Habit and edging. The only thing thats been on my mind these past few days, I know he'd be so so mean about it too dude, most definitely having us wrecked and sobbing. (HOTT) who said that...
I’ve had this idea for a while but have never seen any other writer do it. And the way you perfectly portray Habit is so perfect! So I was thinking that the reader and Firebrand are friends and without HABIT’s permission he travels back in time with her (cause yk how Firebrand time travels back in time to like help Noah or like gain info and what not) so he takes her to Germany in the 1940s, and maybe this could be during the events of Sebastian’s journal if you ever read it, if not that’s perfectly fine and you can make up whatever timeline they go back to (Also I just want to note that I do not support Nazism at all I promise to you, I am just proposing this idea because I think it would be cool and I’ll tell you why) so like it’s pretty obvious if one knows HABIT that he has a lot of past vessels, and like cause the reader is aware of the fact that he used to have past vessels but it’s still weird to her cause she’s so used to seeing him in Evan all the time. Especially cause since HABIT’s a demon I feel like he would know she’s automatically his mate even if she’s from a different timeline. But yeah that’s my idea but feel free to do whatever you want with it lol
Again I will say this I DO NOT SUPPORT NAZISM AND I DEFINITELY DO NOT SUPPORT ADAM ROSNER AT ALL. I just like Tribetwelve and HABIT and I would really like to see something different other than the same Vessel reader always sees HABIT in. Especially because when they come back I know that HABIT will be pissed off Firebrand could have put her in danger but yeah 🥹
Hey again! I took a little bit of time thinking about this request and sadly I think I’m going to decline this one. :(
I’m not very good at writing historical pieces past like, the nineties, not even historical-adjacent stuff. And I’m not really experienced in writing Firebrand/Noah, I’ve watched a good chunk of Tribe Twelve and read the lore but I never particularly got a good feel for his character.
This is a really neat ask! But I don’t think I’m very equipped to do it justice. TwT I really liked the idea of writing something where Habit’s in a more unfamiliar vessel and sort of scares or maybe surprises Reader with it. But ahhhhh I’m not sure I’d be very good at writing the rest of it.
── .✦ 🦌 | A/N: Don’t ever be worried about me getting bored!! I always figure out how to spice things up lol. I did a mix of gender neutral and somewhat AFAB & AMAB features in deer since there wasn’t any specification, but some of the AMAB sfw headcanons can technically be AFAB headcanons because female caribou/reindeer have antlers too. Just a matter of how you imagine yourself/oc/self-insert. I’m sorry if these are starting to get repetitive, I try to make the headcanons unique to each hybrid-species asked for, but there’s a lot of overlap. TwT
── .✦ 🦌 | Tags/Warnings: HABIT x Reader, Mentions of Threats & NSFW headcanons.
[|✧ 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 ✧|]
── .✦ 🦌 | Loves tugging you around by your antlers or gnawing them (somewhat affectionately, in whatever capacity he can be affectionate).
── .✦ 🦌 | Depending on the size of your antler, navigating his dimension/home will be ridiculous. The house is in a fluid state, but that doesn’t mean it’ll accommodate you unless you force it to. More than likely, your antlers will get caught on something, or you’ll bump them into a low doorframe once or twice.
── .✦ 🦌 | You can try all you like, but you’ll never get far if you try to hurt him with your antlers; he’ll sooner grab them and redirect you quickly or simply threaten to cut them off.
── .✦ 🦌 | Sleeping with Habit becomes oddly inconvenient now that he has to dodge your horns, his makeshift solution is to just sacrifice pillows and basically just
── .✦ 🦌 | Considering all of the above, at least filing the sharp points of your antlers down might be a sound compromise, before he threatens to just chew them off of you.
── .✦ 🦌 | Keeps all of the antlers you shed and either displays them somewhere on the living room wall or starts making shit with them, like those deer antler chandeliers or fashion them into knife handles for his collection.
── .✦ 🦌 | Thinks your kicks are cute in a way, at some point or another, he’ll goad and taunt you into it. He’ll dodge most of them, but sometimes he’ll let one land, then grab your ankle and drag you closer to him.
── .✦ 🦌 | Enamored with that deer-in-headlights look you get when you're scared or in shock, he’ll pop out around corners or grab you suddenly to get you to freeze, then tease you relentlessly for getting stuck.
── .✦ 🦌 | Begrudgingly allows you to be vegetarian, but similar to the bunny hybrid headcanons, he’ll have no qualms cracking jokes and eating venison in front of you; he might do it more now that he has a craving.
── .✦ 🦌 | Has mixed feelings if you have hooved feet, on one hand, he hates the noise it makes in the house, but on the other hand, it’s oddly reassuring that he can hear your footsteps from just about anywhere. If he gets too annoyed, he might try to put padding on your hooves in one way or another. Oddly enough, he’s not too concerned about any damage to the floors; he just puts down rugs in the areas you’re usually in. He’s got a particular soft spot for seeing your legs wobble when you try to scale stairs or anything uneven.
── .✦ 🦌 | Calls you Bambi or alternatively Rudolph if it’s around Christmas time, he cannot help himself, and he has zero impulse control when it comes to teasing you. Addresses any emails, letters or anything adjacent written to you with deerly beloved for the rest of your life.
── .✦ 🦌 | Your herding instinct can be inconvenient at times, but Habit isn’t entirely opposed; you have an intrinsic, instinctual need to be in a group. It just so happens that Habit is the only one around, which just means you tend to hover around him a lot. But it’s right where he wants you to be.
── .✦ 🦌 | Genuinely will not let you around roadways if he ever takes you back into public. He has a weird, irrational paranoia that you might get run over, despite the fact that you’re only a deer hybrid.
── .✦ 🦌 | Teases you about your dull teeth constantly, he finds it hilarious that you can bite or tear into meat as he can.
[|✧ 𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 ✧|]
── .✦ 🦌 | When you go into a rut, he’s instantly there, pawing at you and getting handsy, he can almost smell it when you get that way.
── .✦ 🦌 | Doesn’t really like it when you rub your antlers against the doorframes , he might spray you with a spray bottle like a cat.
── .✦ 🦌 | You’ll have to hope and pray that Habit doesn’t knock your antlers against the headboard of your bed, the floor, or the wall and knock them off, especially after your rut.
── .✦ 🦌 | He will chase you if you run, likes to hunt you down like prey, sets you loose in the woods, or in his dimension just to chase you down like prey.
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Word Count: 5.5k // Summary: Your boyfriend breaks up with you on the single worst day out of the year, but now you're fair game.
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ |A/N: Happy Extremely Late Valentine’s Day! I think Stu needs a little more attention in fanfics. Kind of sad they didn’t do more with him for Scream 7, but the Stu Macher lives truthers are the butt of the joke again. A few vague references to (My Bloody Valentine - 2009 Remake) & (Heart Eyes - 2025), surprisingly there aren’t very many Valentine’s Day themed horror movies, which is sad in my opinion. I know I usually write EMH fanfics, but I decided to switch things up a little and write something indulgent for myself since I'm single af this holiday season. (I promise I’m not dead, just busy lol.)
┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | Tags: Oneshot, Slight Angst, AFAB Reader, Billy x Stu, Reader Reminds Stu of Billy (even if he doesn't fully realize it), Reader Is Given a Favorite Scary Movie, Reader is a Little Crazy Or At Least Morbidly Curious, Subtle Brat-Taming, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus/Oral Sex (Female Receiving), & No Beta We Die Like Billy Loomis.
“Tell me why you’re dating this dude again?” Stu drawled, looking almost bored as he leaned against a metal shelf of canned goods while you vigorously mopped the sticky linoleum floors. He was fidgeting with a can of beans on the shelf, but he was oddly languid about it, always fluid in every movement he made but never quite holding still, always fucking with something.
“I honestly don’t fucking know anymore,” You sighed in complete irritation, taking up your pent-up frustration on the dubiously sticky, grubby floors. You vigorously scrubbed the floors with your mop, leaving murky streaks of soapy water on the tile, slowly and painfully removing the caked-on grime despite the dull ache in your arms. You had one simple expectation for your boyfriend on this accursed day, and it was to show up to dinner after you got off work, but here you were, still awaiting any sort of confirmation that he was going to meet with you after work.
“…I guess I’ve just got bad luck with guys,” You muttered bitterly as you practically threw the dirty mop back into the bucket at your side.
“Yeah… Last one wasn’t really a looker, was he?” He scoffed, almost sneered, but when you glanced over at him with a knowing look, he only plastered a charming smile on his face, playing it off as a harmless joke. “Oh, c’mon, you said it yourself, he had an ugly face and an ugly heart, how unlucky can you get?” He teased.
“…It was just a fling,” You replied with a shake of your head.
You turned away from him and kicked the mop bucket along to the other side of the store with the heel of your foot, weaving past the shelves. Stu pushed off the shelf and slinked behind you, hands in the front pockets of his pants and his shoulders back.
You fished your phone out of your back pocket and checked it again for the umpteenth time as you shoved the mop and bucket into the janitor’s closet beside the front counter, slamming the door shut.
You braced yourself against the door with one hand, leaning over your cellphone as you unlocked your phone and read over the text messages.
✉️➤ | Boyfriend - 5:33 PM | ✉⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧˚
hey… happy valentines day. i know this is probably the worst timing ever but i’ve been thinking about this for a bit and i don’t think the relationship is really working for me anymore
✉️➤ | Boyfriend - 5:33 PM | ✉⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧˚
anyway i’ve been thinking a lot lately and i just feel like things between us have gotten kinda… idk weird? like not bad exactly but also not really what I want right now. i feel like you expect a lot from me and i’m just not in a place where i can do all that relationship stuff every day i think it’s better if we just go our separate ways for now
✉️➤ | Boyfriend - 5:34 PM | ✉⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧˚
i hope you understand. and i do hope you still have a good v-day
Your shoulders dropped, your expression going blank as you read over the texts a second time, gripping your phone tighter. “He broke up with me. Over text. On Valentine’s Day - seriously?” You were in disbelief. Stu sauntered over, glancing over your shoulder, nosily peering at the text messages, analyzing them critically. “Ye-ouch.” He muttered, staring down at your cellphone, before stepping back and shrugging.
“Well, fuck him. If he can’t appreciate what he’s got, then he deserves to lose it,” he replied casually, languidly stretching his arms above his head, his button-up shirt riding up as he sat down on the front counter.
“Yeah… I guess.” You deflected wearlily, shoving your cellphone into your back pocket and running a hand through your hair. You grabbed your jacket and your wallet from the basket tucked into the corner behind the counter. “Just can’t believe he picked fucking Valentine’s to break up with me.” You rubbed at the bridge of your nose in frustration, tension thrumming in your fingers. What you would give to wring your ex-boyfriend’s neck right now, to watch him suffer just a little to ease your simmering frustration.
But you quickly waved those thoughts away, making your way to the front doors.
When he saw you strolling over to the door, he perked up, hopping over the counter, almost tripping over himself, and cornering you before you could leave the store as he moved to block the exit.
You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him.
“But I mean…. You’re single, I’m single, I’m hot, you’re hot, how about dinner?” He offered casually, tapping his fingers against the counter as he held his head up with one hand. He was surprisingly smooth when he wasn’t fucking around.
You shot him a smile. “I’m only freshly single, and you’re already coming in for scraps, like a vulture? Pervert."
“I never deny it, baby,” he whistled back at you.
You cracked a smile; he always had a way of cheering you up a bit. He was handsome and charming, with a smile like a golden retriever’s and a good sense of humor, even if it sometimes came across as insensitive. He was so much like a puppy sometimes, you could barely stay frustrated with him for very long.
You only shook your head, sighing. “Alright, alright, you shot your shot now move.” You waved him off; you doubted he was serious. He flirted and hit on practically anything that walked. You thought he was simply joking around, but for a moment, he didn’t move at all.
He leveled you a more honest look, shifting and tilting his head slightly. “I was being serious, y’know, I wouldn’t mind taking you out sometime. You like that one restaurant on the edge of town, right?” You paused; you were a little surprised by his invitation. You wondered how he knew that was your favorite restaurant, but you figured you must’ve mentioned it at some point. You almost felt like it would be wrong to move on so fast, but when you thought about the last time you had genuinely felt love, or even affection towards your now ex-boyfriend, you realized that you had been fed up with him for longer than you might’ve readily admitted.
“I… Maybe tomorrow night.” You offered. You wanted to give him a chance; you’d had plenty of banter with him over the past few months that he had been working here, and the chemistry was there.
He smiled, stepping away from the door and dramatically offering you passage through. “Tomorrow night it is.” You gave him a soft smile as you pushed through the door, making your way out into the parking lot.
── .✦ 🥀
Your boyfriend-- ex-boyfriend-- breaking up with you definitely hadn’t been part of the plan-- what kind of deadbeat breaks up with their girlfriend on Valentine’s day? He was almost in awe. Every time he thought your ex-boyfriend couldn’t sink any lower, he carved another layer out for himself in hell. This was just the cherry on top of it all. It was just like your shitty ex-boyfriend to throw a wrench into his plans. But then again, maybe it was just fate.
He decided he was going to make the best of the situation anyway; he’d been planning this all year, and he wasn’t going to let his carefully thought-out plans go to waste. Especially now that he had a particular craving to gut your boyfriend, maybe string him up by his intestines. The image brought a brief smile to his face as he locked the shop up, twirling his keys on his finger and whistling as he walked out to his car.
He made a slight change to his plan, deciding that he would track your ex-boyfriend down to whatever hole he had crawled into for the night before he would pay you a visit. It was another thought that brought a pleasant smile to his face.
He had a soft spot for you, in an odd way. Watching you get shoved and pushed around by your deadbeat boyfriend had made him pity you at first.
Earlier in the year, a few months after you got hired, he decided he wanted to put you out of your misery. He wanted to watch and laugh as he slit your throat, watch your boyfriend have a sudden change of heart, to watch him beg and cry for you. It was amusing how people never truly appreciated what they had until they lost it, and he took pleasure in spreading the misery of his message every year. A few months ago, he had a change of heart.
He thought he wanted you dead; he had almost been eager to kill you, but things were different now.
When he thought back to why he started all this in the first place, it all came from his grief and anger. When Billy died, his world had ended, and Sidney and all her stupid little friends being dead just wasn’t enough. He didn’t have anyone else to vent his anger on, no one else to hunt down in Billy’s name, until that first Valentine’s Day, when he blacked out and killed a couple on lovers’ lane.
He didn’t remember the kill itself, but he remembered the satisfaction he felt afterward, the sense of unrivaled catharsis when he examined the wreckage afterward. He never felt closer to Billy than when he had some poor soul’s dying heart in his hands, surrounded by a bloody mess. He resolved to make it a tradition. Why did other people get to have sappy little love lives when his soulmate had gotten ripped away from him? Somewhere in his mind, it seemed only fair. It was a twisted homage to Billy’s work. Love and broken hearts were what had caused all this in the first place, what set everything into motion.
It all seemed so fitting.
So, every year, he tracked down and slaughtered a happy couple somewhere around town, watched the news reports the next day, and then moved on. He’d spend the day at Billy’s grave telling him all about it. And more recently, during a few of his visits on the weekends, he had told Billy all about you. All about this crush, this weird crush that he couldn’t stamp down. He hadn’t had a crush in years, not since Billy. But you were just so much like him, that deep-dark look in your eyes, that languid demeanor you had around him, the barely restrained anger you kept under wraps.
You didn’t bat an eye at the deep scars on his face, didn’t pity him, but didn’t treat him like a freak either. But beneath it all, he could tell what made you tick, that deep you had to be as sick as he was.
You were subtle, the way your pupils dilated when he got a bloody nose or a cut, when he told you he kept a pocket knife on him, and spotted that light red flush crawling up your neck. But he really couldn’t resist when you would tell him exactly how you would gut a particularly vile customer or stage a well-thought-out accident for someone just as annoying, all while muttering under your breath. You would try to laugh it off as a dark joke, but he could tell there was a little more truth to it than you liked to admit, that maybe if you could get away with it, you would at least try.
He would kill to see that, to see you snap, bloody and raw, maybe with one of his knives in your grip, the blade buried in some poor sucker’s ribcage. He would be downright ecstatic to catch it on camera. You were just adorable, sure, you were bossy, a little mean, but it was all the things he liked about you that reminded him so much of Billy. You could be so sweet, loving-- almost gentle-- and he knew that if he got his hands on you, he could crack through the ‘rough and tough’ exterior, peel it back to see you for what you really were, what you would be if you hadn’t had your heart broken so many times.
It was the first time in years he had felt flustered around someone. Sometimes it made his heart hurt, made him wonder if Billy would be angry that he had fallen for someone new. He asked a few times, with no response, of course. But considering he wasn’t struck by lightning from the sky or didn’t spontaneously combust right at Billy’s grave, he assumed that maybe Billy was okay with it.
He couldn’t resist calling you every other night, listening to your pretty voice, listening to you snark off to him before hanging up. Other times, you’d talk, try to goad him into speaking, but he never replied. It made it all the more when he would come to work the next day and hear you tell him all about the ‘pervert who wouldn’t stop my house phone’. One way or another, he was settling everything tonight; he could be patient, but right now, he didn’t want to be; he couldn’t be without some sort of sign that maybe these feelings that had been festering inside of him for months could be reciprocated.
Now, he was sitting in front of your ex-boyfriend’s house, his breath fogging the rubber of his mask, watching him through the dirty window of a suburban house tucked away in a quiet little neighborhood, watching him make out on the living room couch with some tall blonde he didn’t recognize.
Maybe this small change of plans would work out in his favor after all.
── .✦ 🥀
You couldn’t believe it, really.
You’d had the whole night planned, a reservation for a decent restaurant and a nice change of perfume spritzed clothes packed in the trunk of your car. You had even worn the scratchy black lace lingerie under your work clothes all day, with makeup to match. You regretted it now, having planned so much shit with the simple expectation that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend would just show up and give you the time of day.
You flopped onto the couch, not even bothering to strip out of your work clothes yet. You were exhausted; you’d spent the entire day on your feet at the front counter, dealing with crappy customers and trying to ignore the fact that your now ex-boyfriend was a complete deadbeat. But you settled in, a glass of deep red wine in one hand and a box of Valentine’s heart-shaped chocolates on your lap, the kind without the fillings inside.
Just as you were truly settled into the couch cushions, sunk down, and scrolling through Netflix leisurely. You startled, your home phone on the side table started loudly ringing, vibrating the side table. You were quick to scowl as you glanced over to the offending object. You had been getting these calls at least once a day for half the year. The calls came from an unknown number, and usually, when you asked who was calling, you would only get heavy breathing on the other end as a response. Probably a pervert, you guessed, or maybe at worst, you had a stalker.
“If you’re just going to breathe on the phone again, I can tell you I’m not in the mood. So either say something, or fuck off.” You muttered into the receiver as you leaned back on the couch, indulging in the chocolates you had bought for yourself, licking your lips.
“All alone on Valentine’s? That’s pretty sad,” the voice drawled, raspy and low, languid, like he had nothing else to be doing, all the time in the world to harass you.
“Not as sad as a guy with enough free time to bother me every night,” you quipped, tilting your head as you finally settled on a movie you liked, a horror movie you had watched over and over again.
“Yeah?” He replied.
“Yeah.” You whispered back.
“Well, maybe I just like to hear your voice,” It was pure charm oozing from his voice, smooth, but manipulative at the same time. You wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t affect you just a little, but the idea of entertaining a random stranger, possibly a stalker, over your date with Stu tomorrow, was something you couldn’t think about.
“…Cute. But I’ve got a date.”
“Really? Who’s the lucky guy?” It was almost as if he was feigning surprise, but there was a slight undertone of excitement, maybe anticipation.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you retorted, a hint of amusement creeping into your tone of voice. If you couldn’t get anything out of the guy, you would at least entertain yourself.
“Fair enough,” he replied easily enough, you could almost hear his shrug over the line.
You frowned, almost dissatisfied with his reply. You had expected a little bit more pushback. “Who are you anyway? You’ve been calling for almost half a year.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he parroted back at you, teasing you.
“…I guess I should’ve expected that,” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you shoved another chocolate into your mouth, picking up your TV remote and starting to scroll again.
Things got quiet for a minute, but you could hear the sound of fabric shuffling over the other end of the receiver, until you heard a light knock at your door. “I got a gift for you~!” He cooed in a sing-song tone, something thudding against the carpet at your front door. “Open it.” His tone dropped to a deadpan again, sending a small shiver up your spine.
Your eyes widened, but you didn’t move from your spot on the couch, simply set your tv remote and the box of chocolates in your lap to the side. Instead, you slowly turned and peered over the back of the couch, spotting a dark red heart-shaped box tied in a glittery red ribbon, culminating in a bow on the top. Somehow, he had managed to slip it through the mail slot.
You slowly got up, padding over to the front door. You knew it was a stupid move, one of the first rules of a horror movie you were recklessly breaking, but you couldn’t help your morbid curiosity.
You stepped closer, crouching down to examine the box and gently tugging the ribbon undone. It was leaking something dark and viscous onto the doormat, sticking to the threads of the rug. You stood up and backed away slightly, gently nudging the lid off of it with your foot. Inside, nestled in delicate dark red tissue paper, was an oozing, bloody heart, surprisingly fresh, almost as if it were still pulsing. You didn’t even feel a pang of shock when you saw it, only a vague intrigue.
“I think it’s pretty fitting… You wanted his heart, now you’ve got it, baby.” He giggled over the phone, the voice changer causing it to echo oddly. “Alllllll yours.” He paused and sounded eerily excited when he added, “You like it?”
In a way, it was almost cute; he seemed oddly eager, almost overjoyed to have dropped something like this practically at your feet— it was familiar in a way you didn’t want to think about. “Sweet… But disgusting,”
“Everyone has their kinks, baby,” he mocked before his tone dropped to some deadly serious. “Now guess which door I’m at.”
You stood up abruptly, backing away from the front door. “It doesn’t matter; all the doors are locked.” You weren’t bluffing; all of the doors were locked, but you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of doubt lingering in the back of your mind. When was the last time you had even checked to make sure everything was locked?
“Are you sure about that?” He was trying to get you to falter, to doubt yourself, to wander around and start checking all the doors and windows, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction. You glanced around for a moment before you slowly started backing yourself up the stairs, keeping an eye on the front door.
By the time you made it to the top of the stairs, you quickly dashed down the hall, shoving your bedroom door open and then firmly shut. Your breath hitched as you fumbled with the door handle and locked yourself in your bedroom, listening to breathing over the phone,
“Alright, I’m done playing. Tell me who you are, or I’ll call the cops.” You deadpanned, clearly the guy was lingering somewhere around your house, you were hoping the threat would scare him off and give you a small piece of information in return, but you didn’t get to finish that train of thought.
Your closet door lurched open, a shocked scream bubbling from your throat as he grabbed your shoulders from behind and jerked you backward against his chest. You jerked and thrashed in his grip, the phone falling from your grip and cracking against the floor, the hard plastic pieces shattering and skittering to the far corners of the room.
His arm wrapped around your neck, and you immediately kicked at his knees, causing him to stagger. He shoved you forward with a growl, and you lost your balance, grabbing handfuls of his black robe in your hands as you began to fall backward. You yanked him down to the ground with you, his heavy weight crashing into you. Your back hit the floor, knocking the wind out of you, and you saw the glint of moonlight reflecting off something metal in the corner of your eye, coming down as you quickly dodged sharply.
The knife was embedded in the splintered wood floors, mere inches from your face. You glanced over with unsteady breaths, noticing the sharpened edge reflecting in the dim light of the house, and noticed a small heart engraved on the blade and a name you couldn’t make out in the dark.
You fought to get back up, your hands jutting out and clawing, but not before he grabbed your wrists and yanked you back down to the floor with him. You trashed against him, but you couldn’t quite get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried. He pinned you down, your wrists gathered in one of his hands as he shoved you down onto your back, his weight coming down to straddle your hips, his knees pressing against either side of you.
He reached over with his free hand and pried his knife from the floor, pressing the flat of it against your cheek in a triumph that made you scrunch your nose in a sneer.
“Thought you were clever, huh?” He spat it out before he sighed. He couldn’t be disappointed; he surely expected you to be a fighter.
You squirmed, but you couldn’t help the bright red blush that settled over your skin.
“Thought you were just gonna lock yourself in here and call the cops on me?” He taunted, “C’mon… did you think I was here to kill you?” His tone was almost amused, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to laugh at you or if he admired the effort you had put into fighting him off.
You breath hitched as he slid the blade down your cheek and settled the sharp edge of the blade against your throat.
“Nah… C’mon, I brought you a gift, like a gentleman. Y’know?” He mused, carefully unbuttoning your top with one hand, his fingers twitching. You squirmed with each button he managed to work off, feeling your frustration mounting when you couldn’t find any wiggle room with the threat of his knife lingering against your throat.
“Not very gentlemanly to break into my house-“ You snarked back at him, even in your precarious position, you couldn’t help but argue.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re my Valentine this year,” he cooed at you, your top halfway unbuttoned now. And at that, you felt your temper flare, your blood boiling, and before you could really think about it, you reared back and lurched forward, anger overriding your fear for a split second as you head-butted him.
“Ah— Fuck!” He hissed, he regained his composure, quickly gripping your wrists tighter, his empty hand grabbing you, forcing your cheek down to the floor, holding your head down. He growled, ripping his mask off and tossing it to the side. “Can’t breathe in that thing anyway…”
Your eyes widened, and your breath hitched as recognition suddenly hit you. He had definitely been more familiar to you than you originally thought.
“Stu?” You hissed, itching to strangle him for the struggle.
“Surprise, baby!” He chirped, before giggling at your expression of sheer irritation. But it was all on him, every single bit of your attention just for this moment; it almost made it worth it.
“You… you…“ Your tone was tinged with disbelief, then soaked in pure annoyance. You were almost irritated, less that he had almost stabbed you and more that he had caught you off guard, causing you to falter— to even scream in shock. All things you would’ve been damned to ever let anyone see or hear.
He leaned down with a smug, self-satisfied smile, hovering mere inches from your pursed lips.
You swallowed hard, staring up at his blown wide pupils, then lazily drifting down to his lips. You almost wanted to punch him in his smug-ass face, but you were confronted with the uncomfortable sensation of throbbing heat building up in your core, radiating down your thighs. The whole ordeal had turned you on, the chase, the fight, him hovering above you, keeping you pinned to the ground with his weight perfectly settled against your hips, where you could feel the press of his length against your abdomen.
Stu’s eyes widened in surprise when he felt you flex your thighs before squeezing them together, then he simply looked strangely giddy. But he didn’t point it out, in some attempt not to scare you off, maybe, but he switched gears quickly, holstering his knife somewhere at his hip underneath his robe.
He finished unbuttoning your cheap black top with his free hand, tugging it open and pulling it above your head, then balling up the fabric and tossing it to the other side of the room. He pressed his gloved palms against each side of you, rubbing your ribs with his thumbs and gently prodding at the fat of your breasts.
“Cute…” he mumbled, taking in the lacy black bra you had on. “Did you wear a matching set?”
Your face went red, heat prickling across your neck and cheek. “Why don’t you check for yourself?” You challenged, squirming underneath him.
He only smiled, taking it as full permission to start unbuttoning your pants, lifting himself off of you, and pushing your knees to your chest as he worked them down your legs and tossed them in the same direction as your top.
“Dumb fuck was missing out,” He laughed, finally releasing your wrists as his hands wandered down and groped at your thighs before he hoisted you up in one smooth motion, settling your ankles at his shoulders, lifting your hips and cushioning them with his thighs.
He pressed a kiss to the skin of your left ankle, dragging his lips down your leg until he was pressing kisses to your inner thigh.
You took the opportunity to reach up and plant your hands in his hair, now that he wasn’t pinning your hands down. You ran your fingers through his dirty blonde hair, groaning and tugging him down against you as he pressed messy lines of kisses up your abdomen and between your breasts.
He tugged your panties down your legs and off of your ankles, twirling them on his fingers before shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans underneath his robe.
“Those are expensive, prick, I want those back,” you griped. You had paid more than you were really willing to admit for that particular pair, especially to have the matching bra to the set, so you couldn’t help but be a little salty about it. But Stu only shook his head.
“No promises. You might not even want them back after I’m done with them, baby.”
“Gross,” you muttered, but the thought of him jacking himself off to the thought out you, into your panties, sent a thrill through you.
He only laughed, moving back down to bury his head between your thighs. Your hands fisted in his hair, your grip tightening as you felt his warm breath against your folds, then his warm, wet tongue slowly circling your clit, drawing an unceremonious, but pleasurable gasp from you.
He didn’t stop, quickening his pace before he moved down and began to lick between your folds, his surprisingly long tongue plunging into your depths and curling into a sweet spot that made your toes curl. You gasped in surprise, squirming away from him on instinct, but he only tugged you back down roughly against his tongue, plunging into you deeper.
You were so, so close, your orgasm coiling in the pit of your stomach, your walls clenching around his tongue. But once you were right at the precipice, he withdrew from you, licking his lips.
You hissed and hit his shoulder in frustration.
“Ow! Hey, just gimme a second- “ he whined, adjusting you and sliding you down a bit until your ass was settled at the edge of his thighs, almost at his knees, giving him a bit more wiggle room. “So bossy…”
You heard the metallic grinding of the zipper of his jeans getting yanked down, but you couldn’t quite look down enough to see. Instead, you felt the leaking tip of his cock press against the seam of your thighs, slicking them with pre-cum. You could feel his cock throbbing as he gave shallow thrusts against your thighs. He was already painfully hard, and in a way, it stroked your ego.
After he had prepped himself, you felt the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, your thighs flexing in response. He didn’t even wait, impatient now as he thrust himself into you, not giving you any time to stretch or adjust, chasing his own high now.
“F-fuck!” You yelped, squirming against him as you hissed at the stretch.
He set a quick pace, his hips snapping against yours as he started fucking you into the floor.
“Shhh… Shhh…” he hushed you, nuzzling against your calves and kneading your thighs.
He was panting, sweating, sweat dripping from his hairline as his back arched into you. It was a pretty view, his deep blue eyes darting all over your body, every twitch of your muscles, and every hitched breath.
You let your hand wander up, slipping beneath his robe and the sweater underneath and pushing it up his chest, revealing his scarred chest. littered with scars of almost every sort. You ran your fingers over a particularly jagged, faded white scar on his side. He shivered, then keened as you gently prodded at it.
He looked almost lovesick when his hand shot down to grab your hand, pressing desperate kisses against your palm. “You’re perfect…" he panted,
With a few more strong, sharp thrusts, your orgasm hit you in a sudden barrage of white, your body twitching as you involuntarily jerked and ground against him, keeping that rough stimulation until it all subsided.
He watched you closely and only seconds later, he pulled out at the very last moment, his cum spilling across your stomach in spurts as he let out a low moan. You had both finished embarrassingly fast, but you were still left panting, a dull afterglow settling over you as your pussy throbbed.
He gave you a sly, cocky, fucked-out smile, and somehow it was the most charming smile you had ever seen on a man.
── .✦ 🥀
You turned on the news the next morning, freshly showered, a steaming cup of coffee in your hand, and wrapped in a fluffy white robe as you lounged back on the couch. When you thought back on your night, it all felt like a hazy fever dream, but the evidence was everywhere you looked, from the dried stains on the rug by your front door to the cut-open window screen in your bedroom.
But for once, you could say you’d had a nice Valentine’s Day.
They were airing the latest news report on the heartbreak killer, a lovesick couple found dead in their home, one with his heart ripped out. Your ex-boyfriend and what you could only guess was his mistress, left in a bloody heap. You felt zero remorse, only a slight pang of bitterness as you changed the channel to whatever daytime television was airing, taking a sip of your coffee as your gaze shifted to the side.
On the coffee table was a light pink Valentine’s card, covered in red hearts and flaky red glitter. You didn’t hesitate to pick it up, crossing one leg over the other as you carefully glanced it over. On the inside of it, a message was scrawled in messy glitter red pen:
“8:00 PM, Woodsboro Diner. <3
Call Me ;) - XXX-XXX-XXXX”
── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ
Holy hell dawg PLEASE continue Even Rabbits Bite that was SO GOOD!!! <3
Thank you!!! And ahhhhhhh I'd love to but I feel like it's already so similar to Cry Me a River and I think I'd kinda struggle with coming up with a continuation of it . TwT But I'll consider it if I think of something cool to do with it! I'm really glad that you enjoyed it. 💜 ✨
