✦ 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓶𝓷 ✦

【 ✧ 𝓑𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ✧ 】

┕━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ | 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.

↻. | Thank you for reading this!

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【 ✧ 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✧ 】

── .✦ #autumncorpsecore - for all masterlists and navigation posts.

── .✦ #autumncorpsefics - for all fanfics, drabbles, oneshots etc.

── .✦. #autumncorpseplaylists - for all character & fanfic playlists.

── .✦. #autumncorpseasks - for all anon asks and replies.

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【 ✧ 𝓐𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✧ 】

── .✦. | 💜 🖤

── .✦. | ♤

── .✦. To be added...

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── .✦ 🎨

You were the artsy type, doodling on your homework or notebooks with pen, scribbling on the bathroom stall walls or napkins at restaurants. You kept stacks of sketchbooks on your desk at home and stray pages of unfinished drawings shoved in your backpack. Stu had always thought it was cute, but you thought he was picking on you when he would tear your little drawings off of your homework or transfer them onto tape and plaster them in his own personal journal.

After his ex-girlfriend, Casey, broke up with him, he’d been hanging around you more and more, inviting you over for movie nights, following you around from class to class when Billy was busy.

“Hey, why don’t you draw on me? Like the stuff you draw in your sketchbooks and stuff.” He offered casually during one class period. When he saw your eyes light up with the idea of a new canvas, he smiled and offered up his arms. It was a habit now; he would let you hang over his arm, using a fine-tip Sharpie or marker to doodle designs on his biceps and forearms. Flowers, foods, shapes, words, whatever crossed your mind in whatever color you liked. He didn’t bother wiping them off for a long time, and he didn’t bother to hide them either.

After getting a bit tipsy at his house one night, you were sitting in his lap, sunk down into the couch cushions as the rough seam of his jeans pressed against your core. You brushed a fresh drawing onto his bicep with a marker, a mix of roses and bleeding hearts, with a ‘father death’ mask centered among them, intricate lines trailing down his forearms. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you were coloring it in. It had been his request this time, to your delight.

A cheesy horror movie was playing in the background, a bowl of buttered popcorn, and a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

“Looks great, babe,” he murmured into your ear, petting your sides, before pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek, his hands sliding down to your thighs. You could smell cheap beer on his breath, mingling with the smell of a certain musk from his skin. His lips drifted down your cheek, and you paused, moving your marker away for a second. He reached up, gripping your chin with one hand and turning you to face him directly. His eyes were half-lidded, a spark of mischief swimming in the depths of his light blue eyes.

“Lemme thank you properly…” He added with a smirk, leaning forward suddenly and pressing a playful yet clumsy kiss to your lips. His tongue pressed at the seam of your lips, he tasted like. You made a muffled sound of surprise, but he took the opportunity quickly and wriggled his tongue past your lips. He ran the flat of his tongue along the tips of your teeth, his hand dropping down from your chin to squeeze your thighs through the fabric of your sweatpants. You dropped the marker you’d had in your hands somewhere against the couch as he pressed forward, urging you to reciprocate.

You got a little handsy with him in return, your hands slipping underneath his sweater to grope at his chest. You both finally parted for air, your lips red and puffy and a string of saliva connecting you. His face was red, but he had a toothy grin. He was quick to help you work off your sweatpants until they were discarded to the side of the couch, leaving you clad in only your underwear. He grabbed your hips and forced you down. You panted as he deliberately rolled his hips against yours, drawing a light moan from your lips when he found a sweet spot that rubbed the seam of his jeans perfectly against your clit.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna let me fuck you?” he asked in a breathy murmur against your ear. “C’mon baby, tell me you want it…”

Your face flushed red, and it suddenly hit you that maybe things were going too fast. The thought freaked you out. Casey had only broken up with him a few weeks ago- you didn’t want to just be rebound sex for him.

“I— I’m not ready-” You stammered out, and Stu paused, his hands stilling on your body as he processed your words. For a brief moment, frustration flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a calculating look—part disappointment and part understanding —before it smoothed out into an almost practiced, neutral look.

“Aww, hey… It’s cool,” he replied, his tone carefully controlled despite the tension in his jaw. “We don’t gotta rush into anything, you know?” Stu let his hands drift back up to your hips, somewhere neutral. But his pupils were still dilated with desire.

“We can just… chill, watch some movies… Maybe make out a little more, if you want.” He almost looked like a kicked puppy, his gaze drifting awkwardly to the side as a pout settled on his face. It made you cringe in discomfort.

“No, I just uhm… We can just…” You were embarrassed, your muscles tensing and your face getting even hotter than before— god, you just wanted to crawl into a hole right now.

“We can keep going, I just… I don’t wanna go all the way,” you admitted.

A wolfish grin spread across his face as he planted his hands back down against your thighs. “We can do that, baby; we don’t have to do anything you're not ready for,” he cooed, his hands already rubbing at your thighs again, trying to get you to warm back up to his touch, to relax.

You nodded and swallowed as he adjusted your position, slotting you against him, where he had a better angle to roll his hips against yours.

You took a shuddering breath, and it seemed to stroke his ego, considering he did it again, but firmer, more confident now that he had so much control over you. You could feel every inch of his erection bulging through his jeans.

You squirmed in his lap, giving an experimental roll of your hips against his.“That’s it, baby, find what feels good.” His voice was thick with lust as he watched you struggle to find what felt good. You finally ground down against him, and he groaned at the friction, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Fuuucckk…” he moaned, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

He ducked his head down to your neck, unceremoniously sucking hickeys onto your skin. You could feel your own wetness soaking through your underwear now, leaving a damp spot against Stu’s jeans. Your thighs began to clench— you couldn’t believe you were already so close to an orgasm just from grinding against him, but it just felt perfect. Your body fit against his perfectly, and he never stopped sucking hickeys up your neck as he bucked his hips up to meet yours.

Your release hit hard and fast, radiating from your spine to your thighs, causing you to tremble. He got a little rougher with you, jerking you down against him by your thighs as he buried his face in your shoulder, chasing his own release. But he came in his own pants shortly after with a groan against your neck and a squeeze to your thighs again.

You took a few minutes to recover, panting as you lay limp against him. For the time that you lay against him, your eyes began to wander until you got a mischievous idea when you spotted the marker you’d had in your hand earlier, discarded between the couch cushions. You snatched the marker from across the couch. You had a cheeky smile on your face as you quickly doodled a heart on his skin, above the waistband of his jeans. Stu yelped and almost immediately sat up. “I just gave you the ride of your life, and you start bullying me-” He whined, feigning hurt.

“C’mon…“ You huffed and playfully shoved at his chest.

“Ugh… now I want another beer…” he continued to whine, and you rolled your eyes; no wonder Billy constantly looked so annoyed with him. He was dramatic, but he was lucky that you thought it was cute.

“I’ll go grab us a couple more then,” you said, sliding off him as he lounged on the couch, making your way over to the door to the garage. You didn’t think anything of it as you padded over and down the hall until you pushed open the door. You froze at the top of the steps when you saw a pile of bloody clothes in a heap on the concrete floor.

── .✦ thank you for reading! all comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

── .✦ 🐇

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

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎

── .✦ 🩸

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

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

── .✦ 🐇

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

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎

── .✦ 🐾

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

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎

── .✦ 🩸

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

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

[|✧ 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

── .✦ © autumn_corpse, all rights reserved. please do not repost. ✦ .ᐟ

── .✦ back to masterlist. ✦ .ᐟ

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆ ₍^. .^₎⟆ ✎