#uhmm yeah

The mask sits perfectly against your skin; one Hector spent months crafting for you. When you emerged from the bedroom wearing it, his breath stuttered in his throat and didn’t quite recover.

Now you’re at the Halloween party he insisted you attend together. He’s barely spoken to anyone, barely looked anywhere but at you. Every time you glance over, he’s already watching- eyes dark, jaw set, fingers flexing like he’s restraining every desire.

When someone else tries to compliment your costume, his hand finds the small of your back instantly, guiding you away with a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You shouldn’t let them see you like this,” he says low, just for you. “They don’t deserve to behold you.”

You arch a brow. “What do you mean?”

“This.” His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the mask. “The way you look right now- untouchable. Unknowable. Ravishing. Mine and mine alone.”

The word mine comes out like a brand.

You tell him you’re going to take the mask off for a moment- it’s hot, the party’s crowded. That’s when his composure snaps.

“No.”

It’s not loud. It’s worse. Soft. Irrevocable.

His hand catches your wrist before you can reach your face. “Don’t take it off. Not tonight.”

“Hector…”

“I’ve been pondering about this since I first placed it in your hands,” he admits, stepping closer until the wall presses against your back. His voice has that desperate edge that increases your heartbeat dramatically. “How you’d look, knowing I can’t see all of you. How it would make me ache.”

His fingers ghost over the edge of the mask, not quite daring to lift it. “You have no idea what this does to me. You could keep me like this forever, begging to see you again.”

When you don’t pull away, his head bows, lips brushing just under the mask’s curve at your cheekbone, down to your jaw, to your throat. “You want me to lose control, don’t you?”

Truthfully, you do. You wouldn’t want anything less.

The rest of the night, he doesn’t let anyone else near you. Every touch is lingering, claiming. In the car home, you try again to reach for the mask- he catches your hand and kisses your knuckles as if you’ve offended him.

Back at the house, he’s on you before the door clicks shut. Velvet coat discarded, curls mussed, eyes glassy.

“You keep it on,” he murmurs, voice a rough command. “I want to forget your face tonight. I want to worship the mystery. And when I’ve earned it-when we’ve…” His tone falters, then firms again. “you’ll take it off for me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already steering you toward the bedroom, his palm spread firm over your lower back. Every step feels choreographed, like he’s already wrote about this exact scenario.

In the bedroom, the candles he’d left burning earlier throw gold against the walls, shadows shifting like restless specters. He moves you to the center of the room and stops just short of touching you fully; his dark eyes are circling instead, dragging over you as if committing every angle of the mask to memory for creating more erotica.

“Turn,” he says softly. You do, and he watches you from behind, the tension in him coiling tighter with each second. When he steps close enough for his chest to brush your back, you can feel the unevenness of his breathing.

As you face him again, one gloved hand rises to trace the mask’s rim, his knuckle skimming just beneath your ear. “Do you know what this does to me? To see you like this- half hidden, half mine, and all untouchable?” His other hand slides down to your wrist, gingerly guiding it until your palm rests over his chest. His heartbeat is pounding like it’s trying to bruise bone.

“You know I can take it off anytime? How terrible that would be, right?” You tease.

Something unsteady flashes in his eyes. “Try,” he whispers, and when your fingers so much as twitch toward the ties, his grip locks around your wrist, unyielding. “Not yet. Don’t you dare.”

He pulls you into a kiss, then deep, anchoring, his free hand tilting your chin just so while the other stays wrapped around your captured wrist. When he breaks away, your breath is ragged, your body already melting into the rhythm of his control.

He walks you backward until the bed catches you behind the knees, guiding you down but never letting go of your arm. Only then does he strip off the glove, revealing the warm press of bare skin as his fingers trace from your wrist to your elbow, lingering to map the veins.

“Lie back,” he murmurs. You do, the mask still perfect on your face as he looms above you, the picture of a man who wants to devour something but refuses.

For now.

Hours later, you’re tangled together in the dim light, your mask still in place, his touch both desperate and careful. Every kiss, every gasp, is him trying-and failing- to get his fill of something he’s not allowed to see.

And when you finally reach for the ties, he grabs your wrist one last time.

“Not yet,” he whispers, almost pleading. “Please… let me want you a little longer.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Ummm tha Light Nerds or something because I went swimming in a lake with the Deltarune braineating amoeba and now I can’t stop thinking of them…Went lineless for the first time in like six years too? Wild..it was fun for sure!!

I might be lying, don’t quote me, but I want to make it a point to start posting on here more because it feels like the only social media I won’t get super wrapped up in lmao. Instagram and Twitter are hellsites (derogatory), and I deleted my TikTok (tragic).