#i will just keep seeing horrible things and doing horrible things and being told horrible things

[ace-and-ranty]

That Rolling Stone article about Chappell Roan... the bits about the shit she went through are already wild, but what really gets me is when the article starts listing. every. single. singer. who reached out to her, worried, to commiserate, to give tips, to agree that the harassment of fame is indeed hell. I'm like. "So y'all agree?? All of y'all agree being famous is horrible???" Good LORD.

Fellow stars have reached out to see if she’s OK. Charli XCX was one of the first to do so (..). Eilish has been keeping tabs on Roan (...). Hayley Williams DM’d her, offering to chat with Roan anytime. Katy Perry told her to never read the comments. Lorde gave her a helpful list of things to do at an airport to fly under the radar. The band Muna hosted her for dinner. Miley Cyrus invited her to a party. Lady Gaga has passed along her phone number (...). Roan went on walks and grabbed coffees with Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker. Their boygenius bandmate Phoebe Bridgers came over to Roan’s just to hang, commiserating on how fandom behavior has become increasingly “abusive and violent.” Sabrina Carpenter, who’s also had a shockingly massive year, suggested they meet up and unpack their summers. “We’re both going through something so fucking hard … she just feels like everything is flying, and she’s just barely hanging on,” Roan says. “It was just good to know someone else feels that way.” Backstage at the Vic Theatre in Chicago, Roan flashes her phone to show a lengthy email from Mitski she received that morning. “I just wanted to humbly welcome you to the shittiest exclusive club in the world, the club where strangers think you belong to them and they find and harass your family members,” it reads.

I?? MEAN???

[tortademaracuya]

With the way i keep witnessing horrible things lately I hope i witness my death soon

[nimomo-mo]

Vent

[girlivealwaysbean]

.

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run

Pt 3

At some point, Soap and Gaz fall asleep on the couch, sprawled across one another. Ghost is laid back in one of the recliners, struggling to keep his eyes open as Price’s voice lulls him to sleep from the kitchen.

You're not sure how long the two of you have sat here. It took Price an hour to finally open his mouth. He has hardly met your eye since he’s started talking, hands clasped together on top of the table.

The ache you felt in your chest for these men worsened the longer Price spoke. Proud military men, tired of seeing the monsters they hunted get slaps on the wrist for atrocious crimes. Making plea deals with lawyers, getting one way tickets into luxury cells when they should be six feet underground.

You don’t realise Price has stopped talking till Soap snores, causing Dixon to shuffle at your feet, all four dogs scattered around the kitchen floor. You look him over, taking in the man now that all his bravado has been drained, leaving only the raw human underneath. Blue eyes darkened by years on the force and then years behind bars, forced into proximity with the very animals he and his team longed to put down. You’re looking at a man who fought for what was right and when justice wasn’t served in a way he deemed fit, he settled it.

Price is staring down at his hands, and you’re worried he’s going to hurt himself with how vigorously he rubs his hands together. You don’t think, reaching across the table and grasping one of his hands in yours, running your thumb across scarred knuckles. “Don’t do that.” You scold, and his head whips up to stare at you, eyes wide, hopeful but hesitant.

He looks down at your hand holding his, then back at you. “You’re not…?” He trails off, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter, letting your palm slip into his. You’re not sure what word he was going to use, but you shake your head.

“I’m… I’m sorry you all had to…” You don’t finish your sentence, letting it hang in the air between you. You’re shocked to see tears pool at the corner of his eyes but he’s quick to blink them away.

“You’re not horrified by us?” He asks, and you can tell he’s trying to fight his voice from shaking. You clear your throat, but gently squeeze his hand when his grip loosens.

“You have done… horrible things. Inhumane things.” You start, trying to pick your words carefully as you scoot your chair closer to his. He watches you warily, but there is no denying the growing hope in those eyes. “But I couldn’t imagine seeing what you saw everyday. Hearing the things you’ve heard, having to keep that all to yourself. Seeing… monsters you’ve spent years tracking get served the minimum sentence with a cozy cell waiting for them.” His hand starts to shake, and your heart breaks seeing how hard he’s fighting back the tears pooling in his eyes. “We never would have actually hurt you, I swear on my life. We just… Fuck we had been running for fucking hours through those god damn trees and-“ His voice cracks, and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand. “Why are you being so nice?” He almost spits the word, but his grip on your hand tightens.

Grounding.

“You did as I asked. You told me the truth.” You mirror his words from the barn, and he barks out a wet sounding laugh before covering his face with his free hand. “And you’re happy with that truth?”

“I’m happy you decided you could trust me enough with it.” You admit softly, and he stares into your eyes, and you don’t feel the need to look away this time. “Anyone else would have gone running for the hills.” He whispers, and you can’t help but smile.

“Not many places to run to, and if I’m telling the honest truth, there are worse things than killing human filth.” You shrug, and he lets out a bewildered laugh. “You can’t mean-“

“I do though. There are people in this world that don’t deserve the freedom they have, that have ripped apart the lives of others and continue living like they didn’t single-handedly ruin someone’s entire foundation.” Your words are a little more forceful than you intended, raw. And Price catches it, sitting up a little straighter, tugging your hand closer.

“You have your own monster, don’t you pretty?” He asks seriously, and you swallow, lowering your gaze to your clasped hands.

“I think that’s a story for another night.” You whisper, and you see him nod, before realization hits, and his eyes widen.

“You’re going to let us-“

“You are going to have to show me that I am not making a mistake by letting four wanted men stay in my house.” You interrupt him, but there’s a smile on your face. The next seconds are a blur and you suddenly find this giant of a man at your feet, kneeling in front of you and holding both your hands in his. His shoulders are shaking, head bent but you hear the hitch in his breath.

“Price..” You murmur, a little nervous but you slip your hands free, slowly running your fingers through his hair, and you hear the sob that leaves him. He bunches up the loose fabric of your sweats in his fist, and you can feel his tears starting to soak through.

“You are a good person.” He chokes out, looking up at you and the look on his face has tears of your own threatening to spill. He looks exhausted, like every ounce of his energy has finally been drained, years of enduring visceral human indecency ingrained into every part of his being. And yet he is gazing at you like you are the first glimpse of the sun after week long rainstorms, constant flooding and devastation, the light breaking through the clouds to spread warmth on a new day.

“You’re still a good person too.”

Those words linger in the air.

You lose track of time as you sit there, running your fingers through his hair, this man who you’ve never met, who invited himself into your home, but has bared the darkest corners of his soul to you all in one night. Grimes had made his way over at some point, staring at Price with a concerned tilt of his head. He never did like when you cried, and you can tell he’s desperate to try and comfort this strange man in his home. He lays besides him, paws outstretched, inching forward ever so slowly.

“He doesn’t like that you’re upset.” You mumble, watching the way his eyes snap over to Grimes. “Even though I terribly upset his mama earlier?” He mutters, he and Grimes staring at one another.

“Grimes has always been a big softy. Dixon is the one who’s gonna hold a grudge.” An answering ‘boof’ comes from beside you, Dixon plopping his head back on his paws after making his stance known.

Grimes scoots forward until he can rest his big head on Price’s lap, nuzzling down and looking up at him expectantly, and Price gives you a hesitant look. You just nod, smiling gently. “You’re gonna be staying with four of them, better get yourselves acquainted.”

“What in the bloody fuck did I miss?” A drowsy voice mutters from the doorway, and Ghost stands there, taking in the sight of Price kneeling before you, still clutching your sweatpants, and you can see the downturn of his lips through his mask when he notices the dried tears on Price’s cheek.

You gently pull Price’s hands off your sweats, and he looks as though you just took away his favorite treat. “I’ll go grab some fresh blankets.” You hum, face warming when you can feel both of their gazes on your back as you walk up the stairs.

“Wait, does that mean-“ You hear Ghost start, and you’re shocked to hear it so soft, but their words are lost as you turn down the hallway. You slip into the bedroom at the end of the hall, making quick work of dusting off the dresser and small TV, gently stacking a pile of clean sheets and towels. This room already had two beds, you just hoped they were big enough for these giant oafs.

You just about scream when a pair of hands grip your waist, and you whirl around. “Price you have got to stop grabbing me now- Oh.”

It was Ghost, eyes unreadable as he stares you down, and you clear your throat, loosening your grasp just a bit but still attempting to push him off.

“You scared me, you need to stop-“

“Thank you.” He interrupts, and your eyes widen as he pulls you closer.

“I- Well you’re welcome, I couldn’t just-“

“Yes you could. You could send out right back outside, hell you could get a goddamn brigade of officers here and you would be justified for it.” He shrugs, but you frown, shaking your head.

“No. From… from what Price told me, you all made your own choices to help those the governments deem lesser than them. You helped people who have watched law officials let them down again and again.” You state firmly, wincing slightly as you feel Ghost dig his fingers into your hips. “Easy.” You scold, and he immediately eases up, but doesn’t let go of you, keeping you pressed to him and your heart skips.

“I’ll just finish-“

“Whoever divorces such a sweet little bird must have absolute shit for brains.” Ghost states, quite confidently, and you can’t stop the shocked giggle that slips past. “Absolute fuckin idiot.”

“You can’t win me over with flattery you know.” You huff, but he sees right through you, dark eyes taking in your flustered expression, and you feel heat burn your cheeks as you avoid meeting his eye.

“Mmm, we’ll see about that. Think it’ll get me pretty damn far.” He grins, and you smack his hands before pausing.

“Wait.” You mutter, prying his right hand off of you and lifting it up, inspecting.

Your teeth made a pretty gnarly imprint, already scabbing. “Ah don’t worry about that. I deserved it.”

“C’mon you big idiot, before you let that thing get infected.” You order, pushing him towards the bathroom and he lets out a loud laugh, the sound causing butterflies to seize your stomach.

“Yes ma’am.”

[acoazlove]

A New Place | part two

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Months after a horrible birthday, you’re happy with new friends, but soon you’ll find out that you have to face your family once again.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

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It’s been three months and they haven’t come to see you. Not a single one of them. So either they don’t care and haven’t looked for you, or they just can’t find you. However, that’s a stupid thought because they could send Azriel, he is the spymaster after all.

You have to keep telling yourself you don’t care because it's easier that way. Thinking about it for too long would cause you to spiral. One that you’re not sure you could get out of.

On the bright side of all of this, you’ve made friends with your coworkers, and know a few regulars by name.

Benny has been the most helpful through it all. Was there even when you were being stubborn and trying to pull away completely. Trying to isolate yourself so nothing and no one can hurt you again.

The first week after you had moved into the apartment above the bar—which isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds—she taught you how to pour drinks, what bottle is what on the shelf, how to clean glasses efficiently, but best of all, how to deal with all kinds of fae who decide to wander in. The worst of which were creepy males who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Benny kept your mind busy, doing anything and everything she could, giving you advice despite not asking for it. One of the most freeing feelings was no guilt when you went shopping for the first time since being on your own, now you don’t feel like you owe anyone when you spend a single dollar.

Your coworkers were the next best thing for getting your mind away from your family. Odessa—the black-haired female—is probably your favourite person other than Benny. She looked quite intimidating at first but once you got to know her she was a sweetheart—kind and funny. Quick to make you feel at home. She is also a busybody, not that you complain.

Speaking of Odessa, she’s standing in front of you, her hip leaning on the edge of the bar, animatedly moving her hands as she ranted about her latest experience with ‘irritating males’ as she so kindly put it.

“Gods, then he tried to buy me a drink even though I told him I wasn’t interested again.” Exasperated, she finishes her story with a scoff and an eye-roll. You purse your lips and lift your guilty gaze to meet hers, the female tilts her head at your expression, and her mouth drops open, “Were you not listening to me?” she exclaims.

You place the glass that you were drying down on the bar top. A heavy breath leaving you and an apologetic look on your face, “I was Dessa, I promise. I just got in my head.” Mumbling the last part. A playful glare graces her features, and then a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, “You're lucky you’re good at your job. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice.” A snort escapes you at that.

Just as you were about to retort, a hand harshly claps your shoulder, “She is good at her job, but she won’t be if she keeps getting distracted by you. Now go on.” The deep voice shoos her away. Frowning in return, she grabs a tray of drinks and stalks off with a crude gesture thrown over her shoulder at him.

You turn to see scruffy brown hair and tanned skin—Dominic. who is the biggest and most intimidating male you’ve ever seen, also an older male, with faint lines on his scowling face. He still won't tell you how old he is. You'd have to guess he's older than the males in the inner circle.

He raises his eyebrows at you. Flushing slightly upon realising that he must have asked you a question, while you were lost in thought. Again.

A sharp exhale passes through his lips, waving a hand in exasperation, “Can you please go check on the boys in the back? They're taking far too long to just bring out a couple of crates of booze.” With a curt nod, you turn and head into the kitchen.

Scanning the room, you find the two males you were sent to find. Oberon and Tarian, chatting away while seated in the corner. You arch a brow at the sight, arms crossing over your chest. The huff you let out pulls their attention to you, a friendly smile from Tarian and a feline smirk from Oberon sent your way.

“Dominic wants to know what’s taking you so long to get the new crates of liquor.” Grimaces shift their expressions. They share a look before turning back to you. Oberon's cropped blonde hair falls across his forehead at the movement, blue eyes meeting your own. Lips pulled into his previous smirk. “Wasn't Adem supposed to help?”

An incredulous look twists your features. “Just do it.” You grumble before turning to leave. “y/n.” Tarian’s raspy voice grabs your attention. Pale skin glimmering in the soft lights, “Cover for us?” mousy-coloured curls bouncing slightly with a tilt of his head. Grey eyes glittered with mischief.

You scoff before you exit the kitchen. “No. I got in trouble last time.” snickers are heard from behind you at that, though you do hear bottles clink together, indicating they had finally decided to do their job.

Blue hair flashes across your vision, Benny stepping into your path. “Break time.” voice with a singsong tone. Just as you're about to argue that you had your last one not too long ago, she cuts in. “Your last break was about five hours ago.” her arms folded over her chest.

Eyes widening before giving her a small defeated nod, you follow her to the bar's entrance, passing Adem on the way. The red-haired male gives you a smile, which you return as you pass through the door.

─

The inner circle has been miserable, sulking over every word you had yelled at them. Truly realising their own mistakes soon after the door had slammed closed behind them. Not going to look for you, with the excuse of wanting to give you space. Three months of space isn’t enough it seems.

Azriel immediately sent a few shadows after you to make sure you’d be okay. Well as okay as one could be after a horrific birthday. Those same shadows hadn’t left your side since. You haven’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time before you did. Swirling dark tendrils aren’t exactly the most discrete thing when one is walking in broad daylight.

He had felt horrible that he hadn’t said anything when you looked at him that night. He just couldn’t bring himself to say that he was the only one who didn’t forget your day. Or the fact he had gotten you a present and hadn’t given it to you. The day after you left, he had given the present to Benny to give to you, which she did, but fulfilled his wish to not say it was from him. Already Feeling bad enough for not giving you it himself.

Walking down the cobbled streets of Valaris was something he and his brothers had done for years, though since Rhys had been crowned high lord, it was rare for them to get that time. The three of them looking for a place to maybe have lunch, or just sit and have a nice chat. Any excuse to spend just a couple more hours together. Their mates had sent them off so they could have a ‘girls’ day’ at home, which is most likely a cover to plan how to make it up to you.

A pointy elbow jabs Azriel in the ribs, pulling him out of his thoughts with a pained grunt. Glaring up at his brother, Cassian only replies with a snort. “What was that for?” Azriel grits out, hand rubbing his side.

“You’re brooding. No brooding on boys’ day.” At his words, a chuckle escapes from Rhysand who’s on Cassian’s otherside.

“I am not brooding.” Azriel grumbles. “Fine then, moping.” Cassian’s words have that same teasing tone as when they’re sparring, trying to rile him up as much as possible

Opening his mouth to growl out a retort, shining blue hair flashes from across the street at a Cafe, catching Cass’ attention. “Benny!” His booming voice yells towards her.

Head snapping in the direction that her name came from. a beaming smile stretching across her features seeing the three boys.

Before Rhys or Az can pull him back, Cassians already bounding over to her, pulling her into a hug before she could take a seat at her table. A laugh bubbles from her chest, hugging him back.

Joining them, Rhys grins at her, And Azriel gives her a nod of acknowledgement. “Long time no see. How’ve you boys been?” her smile still clear in her voice.

“We’ve been great, how about you? Are you having a late lunch all by yourself?” Rhysand’s voice has his usual charming lilt to it.

“I’ve been good too. Not alone, my friend is in the bathroom.” Azriel’s attention is pulled towards the bathroom door as if he could tell who her friend was from where he is standing. “Haven't seen you all in nearly a century. Busy with mates now I assume.” more a question than a statement.

“Yup,” Cassian enthusiastically pops the ‘p’ “you need to meet them, you’ll love them.” A loud, over exaggerated gasp gets pulled from him. “We should all go to your bar for dinner and drinks.” Beaming, likes it’s his best idea he’s ever had.

Benny’s own smile grows in response. “I'd love that. I’ll even reserve your old favourite table. Though I might have to pull two together considering how much your family’s grown.

a bark of excited laughter is pulled from Cassian. Rhys pulls him away before he can distract her from her lunch any more than he already has. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s leave you to it, and we’ll see you in a couple days?”

“I’ll save a couple tables for you.” She embraces each of them, before pulling away and waving them off, to finally sit down.

They depart with smiles and waves, then head off to find a place for them to have their lunch. Azriel can’t help but look over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of who she’s with. Before they round a corner and are out of sight, he sees exactly who it is. You.

─

You exit the toilet and make your way over to the table Benny had chosen outside. The food and coffee you had picked now waiting for you.

As you pull your chair out, she turns her gaze back to you, a grin gracing her cerulean features. Deciding to ignore the mischievous undertones of that look, you pick up the pastry sitting in front of you and take a bite.

“We're going to be busy in a couple of days. A couple tables have been booked.” She speaks as if it’s an afterthought.

Your brows pull together at her words. “Since when did we reserve tables?” you inquire, never having heard that was a possibility for the bar. “We don't. They’re just special guests.” her voice light as she picks up her coffee, signalling that she won’t be answering any more questions.

Glancing in the direction that held her attention previously, you find nothing. whoever it was must’ve been important for Benny to change her usual routine with the bar. choosing not to dwell on it for too long, you turn back to the female in front of you, to enjoy your lunch.

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a/n: There might be some spelling mistakes. I’m sorry for taking so long to post this, and i know this isn’t exactly the part two you guys wanted, but the story needs to be built up just a little bit. I promise the next part won’t take as long, and there will absolutely be more interactions with the inner circle. Thank you for your patience, I have had low energy because I’ve been quite sick, and haven’t been able to get this to a place where I want to post it. I hope you liked it anyway. <3

[no-144444]

the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right? 

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body. 

Sounds like you have it all. 

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named. 

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price. 

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans. 

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress. 

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?” 

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood. 

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in. 

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes. 

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together. 

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore. 

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day. 

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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back. 

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!” 

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed. 

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is. 

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows. 

But the worst part was that nobody noticed. 

“He's right y’know,” Oscar  smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off. 

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock. 

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh. 

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off. 

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break. 

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back. 

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone. 

----------------

Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?” 

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to. 

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison. 

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded. 

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad. 

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album, 

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that. 

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there. 

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face. 

Lando was entranced. 

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part. 

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new. 

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably. 

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them. 

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door. 

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock. 

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone. 

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back. 

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on. 

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly. 

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily. 

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room. 

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you. 

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t. 

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock. 

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet. 

You sat up, staring at him. 

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.” 

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell. 

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off. 

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground? 

“Oh,” he breathed out. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.” 

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence. 

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied. 

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time. 

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

----------------

Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going. 

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

----------------

The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later. 

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not. 

----------------

Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight. 

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room. 

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it,  but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings. 

“What?” he groaned, opening the door. 

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted. 

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed. 

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?” 

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen? 

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare. 

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded. 

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage. 

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect. 

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up. 

----------------

You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be. 

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew. 

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season. 

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound. 

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled. 

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet. 

The perfect night. 

----------------

He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage. 

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter. 

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs. 

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press. 

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did. 

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered. 

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him. 

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari. 

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari. 

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you. 

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random. 

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!” 

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred. 

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!” 

“Yes!” you agreed. 

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time. 

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before. 

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily. 

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes. 

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door. 

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way. 

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober. 

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando. 

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch. 

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come. 

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie. 

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line. 

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do. 

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.  

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question. 

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning. 

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not. 

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him. 

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world. 

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in. 

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped. 

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people. 

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic. 

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back. 

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would. 

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it. 

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[lovelivision]

LET'S SUMMON A DEMON.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: kamo choso/reader

𝐖𝐂: 17k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when summoning a demon is successful, you suddenly find your life turned upside down. both you and the demon getting more than you bargained for in the other.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, mentions/depictions of reader being stalked, mentions/depictions of the supernatural, light blood warning, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, virgin!reader, choso probably ooc (demon)

This wasn’t a good idea hours ago and it’s certainly not a good idea now. Your friend rocked up earlier today, rambling about how she’s had a fantastic idea to summon a demon and bind it to do your bidding. Muttering something about needing revenge against one of her coworkers for always eating her lunch.

At the time, you had looked her square in the eyes and said, “You cannot be serious.”

“I am,” her eyes had sparkled and her mouth was curled up in an overly excited smile, “Don’t tell me you’re scared?” She was goading you and you knew it.

It’s fair to be scared though, you think anyways. You haven’t told her – or anyone for that matter – but you have a predilection towards the supernatural that you tend to keep to yourself. So, you very much believe and you very much were scared.

By the way she was talking about it, you could see she wasn’t completely serious, not believing that you’d actually successfully summon a demon. You however, well, you weren’t convinced it would work but only because you have no idea where she had gotten the summoning spell from, otherwise you one-hundred percent believe it’s possible to summon something otherworldly.

In the back of your mind, you thought it possible and if it was, you seriously doubt she’ll be able to contain the thing. So no, you did not summon a demon with her, at least… not at first. You had denied to, vehemently in fact, but the girl is good at one thing and it’s convincing you to follow through on horrible ideas.

She is the one common denominator in all your questionable actions and it doesn’t help that she’s obsessed with the occult and witchcraft and ghosts and just about every other ‘spooky’ thing you can think of. How many times did you see or feel something and have to pretend you didn’t? You lost count a long time ago.

Things are attracted to you, so you stay away, or at least you pretend you don’t see them, it makes your life easier. Telling her would just result in her curiosity piquing and possibly putting you at risk and you’re certainly not going to tell her of your ‘ability’ or unfortunate circumstance, not today… or ever.

Despite your better judgement and despite her history of having bad ideas, you’re sat across from each other on your living room floor. Floorboards marked with some kind of summoning circle drawn in a red paint pen she had brought with her. A little bowl is sitting in the centre of it, what looks like miscellaneous herbs and paper sitting in it.

“This is stupid,” you grumble at her, looking at all the candles she’s set up and lit, far too many in your opinion.

“Shush,” her tone is sharp, “I’m trying to focus,” she’s squinting down at the old looking book she has sat in her lap.

It’s actually really old looking, “Where did you get that?”

Groaning, she looks through her lashes at you, “Seriously, be quiet, do you want this to work or not?”

Tone dead when you immediately reply, “Not.”

“Sceptic,” she rolls her eyes.

Scoffing, you accuse, “You don’t even think it will work.”

“Ah, But I hope it will,” a smile is present on her lips again.

It’s quiet after that, unsettling so, but her sudden words are even more unsettling. Murmuring some kind of incantation, the words send a shiver down your spine, a bad feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

The lights in your apartment are off but they flicker on for a second before going back off, you don’t like this at all. You don’t think she feels it but you do, the air is charged and all your hairs are standing on end.

Her words don’t stop though, eyes focused on the words in front of her, the feeling inside you keeps increasing. Like it’s pitching higher and higher, it’s making you feel high-strung. When she reaches the end of the page, it all drops at once. The feeling completely gone from you, like she messed it up at the last second or like there’s more that needs to be done.

Your friends voice shocks you, “Man… the lights flicking on totally had me thinking it would work.” She sounds disappointed.

Trying to sound neutral, you hum at her, “You know it never does…”

She seems completely unaffected, probably not realising just how close she seemed to be to summoning something you probably shouldn’t mess around with. The fact it didn’t work is for the best.

“Whatever, you wanna watch a movie or something now?” She gets up easily, hands patting her thighs as she does.

Warily, you ask, “What kind?”

Shooting you an evil smile, she gleams, “The Exorcist.”

Grabbing a cushion off the couch beside you and chucking it at her, “Oh, fuck off.”

Catching it easily she laughs and tosses it back on the couch before helping you up off the floor. You do watch a movie together but it is not ‘The Exorcist’.

It’s late when she’s shuffling out your apartment door, you’d told her she was welcome to stay but she had said her parents were visiting early tomorrow and didn’t have faith in herself getting there before them if she stayed.

Of course, she didn’t clean up her mess, left everything behind. Almost everything, she remembered to take the book with her. Sighing to yourself, you wander over to the summoning circle. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and crouching down, you reach into the little bowl, wondering just what she had put in there.

Something sharp pricks at your finger and you hiss through your teeth, not expecting it. When you pull back, you’ve accidentally left drops of blood in the bowl and inside the circle itself, what the fuck did she put in there?

Looking at your finger, you can see the little amount you’re still bleeding. Cursing your friend internally, you’re about to get up when the lights in your apartment suddenly go out. All the candles that had long since been extinguished flick back on, that heavy feeling weighs in the air again and you want to run but you’re frozen to your spot.

A cold feeling runs down your spine and the room feels like it’s full of static electricity, your blood growing hot quickly. Your eyes shut for a moment and you hope whatever is happening stops soon, pretend you don’t see it, pretend you don’t see it, you chant to yourself. It’s always worked before; you pretend you can’t see anything and you get left alone.

Though that may not ring true when you’ve literally summoned whatever it is into your apartment of your – almost – own free will. When you open your eyes, it’s hard to see. All the candles having gone out, but a pair of black boots are stood in front of you. You’re still crouching down on your haunches, head tilted down, the boots are throwing you off… do demons wear boots?

Whatever it is, is stoic, unmoving, just standing in front of you and waiting. Attempting to be brave, you pry your eyes up, scaling its body and… it’s… a man? Well, appears to be anyway, it’s– he’s standing there, looking down at you, somewhat impatiently.

His expression doesn’t change, “Do all humans crouch on the floor for this long or are you unique in that aspect?”

You frown at that; you know when you think demon you expect them to be murderous and angry but not… verbally hostile. “I’m scared.”

He squints at you, “Stop it, it’s inconvenient to me.”

“Having a demon in my apartment is inconvenient to me,” you mumble.

His arms cross and he seems genuinely ticked off by your statement, “Oh? Maybe you shouldn’t have summoned me then.”

Finally, you gather yourself enough to shoot up off the floor, standing to your full height, which feels like a poor choice when you realise he still towers over you. It’s not just his height that’s intimidating though, mostly you think it’s just him, his essence, his aura? Energy? You don’t know but he’s what you were feeling, the overwhelming pressure that makes your blood hot.

“Hmm,” he leans forward slightly, getting a closer look at you, “You’re a bit interesting, aren’t you?”

You don’t know what exactly he’s seeing but you don’t like the implication, “No.”

“No?” He doesn’t understand why you’d deny it, to him, it’s fairly obvious that you are different than most humans of today’s age. He leans back out of your space but keeps his eyes trained on you, “So…”

You’re still frightened but he’s not done anything, he’s not moved his two feet from that same spot he first appeared in, “So what?”

Sighing, he groans, “What do you want?” When you don’t speak straight away, he adds, “My interest is fleeting, tell me what you want so I can leave.”

“What I want…?”

“Yes, that’s what the summon was for,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Why mess with things you don’t understand?”

Your voice is smaller than you want it to be throughout this whole interaction, “I didn’t mean to summon you…”

He looks down at the summoning circle and all the candles, all signs pointing towards yes, you did mean to summon him.

You rush to explain, albeit poorly, “Okay, I know how it may look like I meant to but I didn’t mean to.”

He raises a brow at you, “This is incredibly annoying; you know that right?”

As you look up at his unamused face, you feel your eyes burn with your question, “Are you going to kill me?”

He grimaces at you, “Kill you? Do you know about how any of this works?”

“Not really, no…” your eyes flick behind him for a second, “…I meant it when I said I didn’t mean to summon you.” As your eyes adjust to the dark, you can take in his appearance more. Dark hair and eyes, pale skin, you regretfully notice that he’s attractive. Though, that’s hardly surprising, wouldn’t you want to be appealing to the people you wish to trick?

His head tilts at you but he stays quiet, he’s hoping you will offer the information yourself, asking you things has been woefully unhelpful so far. Only serving to make you more anxious and confused about what’s happened.

The silence is becoming unbearable to you. It’s the way he’s just staring at you, like he’s interrogating you with his gaze, “My friend wanted to summon you… not me.” You don’t know how much you should tell him.

He clicks his tongue, “So, why am I bound to you and not your friend?”

Bound? He’s bound to you, oh this cannot bode well, “I don’t know?”

Scratching at the back of his neck, his tone is tense, “Just tell me how the summoning happened. What did you do?”

Your hands lift in defence, “Not much at all, honest.”

For the first time since he appeared here, he moves and grabs your wrist, his hand pulling yours close. He inspects your finger, the one with the nick on it, “You bled.”

It’s scary, you’re scared, he’s fast and strong and now you know he can move and was just choosing not to, “Only a little bit… not on purpose.”

Dropping your hand again, he moves back, giving you space, “But you did.”

“Yeah.”

Frowning, he explains, “You’re the one who bled so now I’m bound to you, not your little friend.”

You nod as if this is all common sense, as if summoning a demon is so natural to you, “Oh… I see, okay, well… can you stop… being bound… to me?”

“In short? No.”

You guffaw at him, “What?”

He scrunches his brows, “Did your friend not bother explaining any of it to you?”

“Obviously not,” your answer was unintentionally sharp and you feel bad, since he’s been, well not kind but he’s not hurt you, “Sorry, no… she didn’t… How exactly does it work?”

“The way this particular binding works is – you summon and bind me with blood, which you have done,” he looks down at your pricked finger, “Then, I can’t leave until you ask a favour of me. After I have completed it, I can leave but I will still be bound to you and when you call my name, I’ll be summoned back and I can’t leave until you ask a new favour of me.” His frown settles deep on his features, “Essentially, girl, you have bound me to you forever.”

You’re wide eyed and surprised, who knew binding spells were so… permanent? “Oh… that’s… not nice, sorry…” You purse your lips, “Is there not… a spell to counteract it?”

“No,” he looks down his nose at you, features resetting back to neutral, “You shouldn’t have been able to summon me in the first place, I thought I got rid of all your human books that contained the information.”

Your brain gets a little stuck on ‘human books’, the implication of ‘demon books’ interesting to you and also amusing. He seems very forthcoming but you’re still cautious, “Why tell me all this? Would it not be easier to use underhanded trickery and get me to ask for a menial favour and leave without telling me your name?”

His gaze sharpens at you, “A ‘favour’ has to be specified, I don’t follow your every whim. You have to specify that the favour you’re asking for is the one I am required to follow through on.”

It’s awfully particular, it feels like whoever figured out how to bind him was very careful about how to do so in a way that would benefit them most, “Okay… you know it’s not lost on me that you’ve not mentioned your name.”

“Names have power to demons,” his brow twitches, like he’s annoyed that you’d noticed that, “You’ve not mentioned your name either.”

“You’ve not asked for it,” you shrug, “Human names don’t hold that much significance though.” Not as much as demons, considering you can literally summon him with his.

“You’re not going to give me your name?” He’s taken aback by your unwillingness.

Shaking your head, you say, “Not until you give me yours.”

His brow raises at you, interested, “My name will mean you can summon me freely.”

“I suppose so but I don’t really have any intention of using it like that,” you’re not lying, you don’t even intend on asking a favour, you mean, what the hell are you meant to do with a blood bound demon?

Your only intent is uncovering more information, he’s giving you answers and telling you things freely but he’s also keeping things from you, specific information. You’re not dumb, you’re not going to trust some demon just because he – presently – doesn’t seem to want to bring you any harm.

He challenges, “Ask a favour so I can leave then.”

You’re blunt and straight to the point, “I don’t want any favours from you.” He looks completely annoyed by your answer and you can understand why, “…You’re not going to kill me are you?”

He grits his teeth, “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” You find that unlikely to be the truth.

He speaks slowly, “I am capable of doing so but I can’t.”

“So, which is it? Can or can’t?”

“I can but I won’t,” he rolls his shoulders.

“Why not?”

“You have a lot of questions,” he’s growing tired of answering them, “The bind means I can’t harm you.”

Thinking on it for a second, you consider how to ask your next question, “What about the bind makes it so you could theoretically harm or kill me but also means you can’t?”

He sighs like he doesn’t really want to answer you, “We are bound. If you die I die–”

“–So why use the word harm?”

He stops, “What?”

“You said harm not kill,” it’s an interesting distinction, “Do you also take on whatever injury I may get?”

His eyes are intense, paying close attention to you, “Anything other than something of your own doing or natural occurrences I will be aware of… though, I imagine I probably won’t feel it as much as you would.” He cracks his neck, “I could torture you into asking a favour but it would hurt me too, though again, not as much as it would you.”

You’re trying to sort through everything he’s said when he interrupts your thoughts, “You’re getting very caught up on if I’m going to do something to you, if it matters, I wouldn’t want to even if I could.”

That gives you pause, “Why tell me that?”

He waves you off, “You’re very stiff, it’s uncomfortable to look at.”

He answers properly when you ask him things directly… you don’t know if he’s choosing to or if he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. Everything you know about demons are the things that everyone knows, or the things your friend has told you but you don’t exactly trust her sources. In either case you’re unsure if you can even trust any of his answers so far.

Even though you won’t believe his answer fully, you ask anyway, “Have you lied at all?”

Shrugging, he says, “Not so far,” and then he gives you the same question, “Have you?”

“Not intentionally.”

He hums at you, intrigued by your answer.

Against your better judgement, or will really, you’re beginning to relax slightly. His presence is overwhelming but after sitting in it for a bit, it’s not… off putting. It’s not a feeling you’re completely unfamiliar with, the little shadows that follow you have the same static feeling to them, just lesser. You hadn’t ever really considered what they were but you’re wondering now.

“The bind… is very inconvenient to you,” you’re simply making an observation, if he’s been telling the truth – which you’re still not sure on – this situation is incredibly beneficial for whoever binds him and incredibly annoying to him.

“It wasn’t made to be convenient for me, it was made for the express purpose of aiding the person who binds me.”

“…Right…” tilting your head, you look him over a bit more carefully, “…Is that why it’s so extensive?”

Either he wasn’t listening or he’s confused on why you pointed it out, “What?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed there are a lot of rules that make it harder for you to have your freedom after the summoning… so either you’re lying to lure me into a false sense of security or whoever made the rules really didn’t want you to have an easy way out,” you’re getting tired of standing here like this.

He notes, “You really don’t trust me.”

It feels a little silly for him to point that out when he’s a complete stranger and also a demon, so yeah, excuse you for being a little sceptical on whether he’s trustworthy or not.

Instead of being rude, you ask, “Do you trust me?”

He eyes you over, like he’s sizing you up, “Humans are supposed to be incredibly stupid.”

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly, “Ah, we are.”

He makes a sound like he was about to laugh before coughing to cover it, “You’re perceptive, is what I was trying to say.”

“I suppose I have more reason than most to be cautious but I’m no smarter than the average person,” you shrug.

Clicking his tongue, he changes the topic, “Since you’re coming to understand, ask your favour, I’d like to leave.”

“I told you I don’t want one,” you don’t mean to be rude but it sounds a little harsh when you repeat your earlier sentiments.

He scowls slightly, ���I can’t leave if you don’t ask one.”

You counter him, “I don’t even know what I would ask for.”

“Then ask for something mundane,” he’s getting impatient now, tone curt.

“I’m really sorry, demon man, but I still don’t trust you and I’m not even sure there won’t be any pitfalls to asking you for a favour.” There is always a catch.

His scowl deepens at how you refer to him, apparently not liking it, “Usually you would be right but these are different circumstances.”

The lights finally flicker back on and you squint against the sudden change, it wasn’t even all that light in your apartment in the first place but after sitting in the dark for so long, your few lamps feel like you’ve been flash banged.

Huffing, you turn and walk towards your kitchen, turning your back on him might be dumb but it’s also a way to test his word. If he tries anything, then at the very least, you can die knowing you were right.

His steps trail behind you, ignoring him, you continue your walk to the kitchen. Passing your breakfast bar, there is a little creature sitting on top of it and you falter almost imperceptibly. Recovering, you do as you always do and pretend you don’t notice it. They don’t frequently enter your apartment; you’ve never really been sure on why but it’s presence inside took you off guard because of it.

It's mostly shapeless, dark shadows, sometimes they’re rounder, thinner, spikier, they come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes they’re almost cute but they’re a nuisance. When you acknowledge them, they attach to you and cause trouble. Hence, your avoidance of them, it’s almost like acknowledging them gives them power. A fact you learnt the hard way.

Behind you, the demon make a noise of interest, one that irks you, “What?” You question.

“You saw it,” he states.

Turning, you face him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He only raises a brow at you.

The creatures shape is twitching, reacting to the demon in front of it, not seeming all that fond of him. He reaches his hand out and flicks at it, the shape disintegrating, gone after he’d put his hand through it.

After touching it, he shakes his hand slightly before tucking his arms crossed over his chest, “Why lie?”

Your brows pinch together, he’s caught you in your lie and you’re wondering if it really will do any good in continuing with it. For the first time in your life, you admit to being able to see them, “It’s easier to pretend I can’t see them…”

He sighs, exasperated, like his situation has somehow gotten so much more annoying, “Ignoring them won’t work forever.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” you’ve been fine this long.

Moving to the sink, you wash your hands, wanting to clean the blood off your pricked finger. While wiping your hands dry, you jump when turning and seeing him right in front of you, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, geez,” your heart is hammering in your chest, he’s really quiet.

Ignoring you, he says, “Being bound to you just became even more bothersome so I’m going to tell you some things I left out.”

“I still don’t trust you.” Again, literal demon in front of you.

His face is incredibly serious, tone grim, “You don’t have much of a choice.”

For the first time tonight, you feel more inclined to listen to and believe what he’s saying. It’s not like he’s been light-hearted all night but he’s not been nearly as stern as he was just now. So, you nod at him, asking him wordlessly to continue.

“I can’t lie to you when asked a direct question, I wasn’t going to tell you because it benefit me more if you didn’t know but continuing without your trust is going to be annoying. I don’t need you thinking in the back of your mind that I’m going to kill you.”

He’s standing a little too close to you now, it’s setting you on edge, “Why do you need my trust?”

“You, are a target, those things follow you because of your energy. In short, you have a lot of it and they want it.” He squints at you accusatorily, like it’s your fault or something.

Taking a step back, you lean against the kitchen counter, giving yourself a bit of space from him, “They’re mostly harmless though, if I ignore them.”

“There are scarier things out there than them,” he alone is proof of that.

You’re trying to remain calm and collected, “That’s...”

“Remember, if you die, I die,” it’s almost like he’s trying to keep you calm, keep you on track.

You need to test if you can trust his words, “I’m really sorry,” he looks confused by your sudden apology, “But if you can’t lie to me… then what is your name?”

Oh, he didn’t like that at all, his face contorting in anger, “Choso.”

There’s a slim chance that he’s still lying to you, to get you to trust him but the utterly frustrated expression he’s wearing tells you otherwise.

He’s stepping close to you again, arms either side your form, hands resting on the countertop, keeping you trapped between him and the bench, “If you still don’t trust me after that, this is going to become incredibly difficult for the both of us.”

“I trust you…” As much as you can anyway.

“Had to get bound to someone like you,” he mutters angrily.

You’re a little offended, “Hey, I didn’t exactly want to get stuck with you either.”

Grunting, he pulls back, not paying your words any mind, “You need to be more careful from here on out.”

“I’m always careful,” does he not realise you’ve lived for this long, you’re careful.

He corrects, “More careful.”

“What else could I possibly do to be more careful,” ignoring them is all you really can do, it’s not like flicking them away would work for you.

“For one, stop attempting to summon demons,” his tone makes it feel like you’re being scolded… because you are.

Feeling the need to defend yourself, you murmur, “It was my friends idea…”

With no hesitation, he returns, “Your friend is an idiot.”

“Hey–”

“­–And so are you, for also doing it.”

You don’t like that he has a point, it’s worse that you did it actually, since you know these things are real.

His question feels like it comes out of nowhere, “What else does your friend like doing?”

You doubt he’s suddenly grown an interest in her as a person, “Why?”

Your eyes track him as he moves to the other side of the kitchen and leans again the countertop opposite you, “Because if they’re the kind of idiot to summon demons, they’re probably also doing other stupid things.”

Pursing your lips, you look away from him because he hit the nail on the head, “She likes to go to abandoned buildings, cemeteries… she likes all things… uhm, scary? I guess.”

Tilting his head, he looks you over again, he seems to do that a lot, “Does she not know about you?”

Covering yourself with your arms, you answer, “Easier not to tell her.”

“Idiot.”

“Okay! stop calling me an idiot now, please,” You get it, you’re an idiot, you don’t need this demon telling you that repeatedly.

“Stop going to risky places with her,” he doesn’t apologise, “Puts you at risk.”

“Okay,” it’s easier to just agree, you’re getting tired, it was already late when your friend left.

Abruptly, he announces, “Don’t bother asking a favour, I won’t be leaving for a bit.”

You almost sputter, “What?” You had just about resigned yourself to asking for one so he would leave and you could sleep in peace.

Rephrasing, he says, “There are some things I want to see, so I will be staying for a bit.”

“How am I meant to sleep in my apartment when there is also a demon in it?” You’re so, so tired, why is he so weird. Are all the demons this weird? Or is it just this one?

He is completely unsympathetic to your plight, “Not my problem.”

“You’re not very nice,” you’re not even really sure why you say it, like it would mean anything to him.

He doesn’t even dignify it with a response, just looking at you with an expression that looks almost as tired as you feel.

“Listen, demon man–”

“–You know my name now, use it.”

That catches you off guard, you hadn’t used it in fear of offending him but it seems like you managed to do that anyhow, “Choso…” using his name feels weirdly intimate, “I need to sleep, so you have to go away.”

Gaze even, he says it how he sees it, “I can’t and like I said, I’m not going to. There are some things I’d like to see.”

The most annoying part of what he’s just said is surprisingly the first bit, “What do you mean can’t?”

“I have to be within the general vicinity of where I was summoned or near the person I’m bound to,” he answers cooly, like that isn’t the most inconvenient thing you’ve heard all night.

“What? How am I meant to sleep peacefully? Have people over?” You have a date coming up, what if you wanted to bring them back here?  

He repeats an earlier statement, “Not. My. Problem.” No sympathy from him.

You raise your hands in exasperation, clenching into fists by your head before dropping them and letting the tension go. Trying to calm yourself, “I need to sleep, I’m going to sleep and hope this is some weirdly vivid dream.”

He goes to open his mouth to speak but you cut him off with a single hand raising, “No. We can talk more at an appropriate time, if you’re still here.” You inhale and exhale a deep breath, “Do not come into my room. Stay out here.”

Rolling his eyes at you, he dismisses, “Go to bed.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you squint, sceptical of him as you wander out the kitchen and towards your bedroom. He doesn’t watch you but you know he can tell you’re watching him. When your back hits your bedroom door, you slip inside and shut the door.

How are you meant to get even a little bit of sleep with him out there?

⟢

It’s dark in your room when you open your eyes, only a small amount of light creeping in from behind your closed blinds. You guess you somehow managed to fall asleep, it’s still early in the morning though, so you probably only got a few hours. You have never been more thankful for the weekend than you are right now.

Rolling over, you look at your bedroom door, wondering if that all really happened last night or if you’ve just woken up from a really weird and detailed dream. Flopping onto your back, you stare at the ceiling instead, not sure if you’re ready to face if it was real. You’d stay like this all day but footsteps from outside your room prompt you to get up.

Tentatively, you poke your head out your door, eyeing your living area carefully. A figure is sat on your couch, reading one of your books. It’s Choso, you sigh with the realisation that it was all real, feeling like you’re apart of some sick cosmic joke right about now.

He speaks without looking to you, knowing you’re there, “You read a lot of poorly written books…”

“Excuse me?” How does he manage to insult you in ways you weren’t expecting.

He glances at you quickly before looking back at the book, “I’ve been reading some of your books but your selection is disappointing.”

Your eyes shift over to your bookcase next to your television to see a pile of books sitting in front of it, like he can’t be bothered putting them back properly after he’s deemed them unworthy.

“You’ve made a mess,” your tone weak, exhausted.

His attention is finally off the book as he shifts to face you, arm resting on the back of the couch, “Those ones aren’t worth keeping.”

“I liked them…” Sure, they weren’t all works of art but some of them were cute fantasies filled with action and adventure and romance and… You feel like you might spontaneously combust out of embarrassment because… did this demon read the books containing porn?What a horrific albeit amusing thought.

He raises a brow at you, confused by your sudden change in behaviour. He ignores it though, not really one to care about your comfortability, “Are you ready to talk again?”

“I don’t think anyone would ever be ready for the kind of talk you wish to have,” you’re staring blankly into the distance. There are literally a billion different things on your mind right now and nearly all of them have to do with him.

His eyes track you as you wander over to the book pile he’d made. Crouching down, you begin putting them back into their spots on the shelf.

He hums from behind you, “It’s simple, I need to determine some things about your situation and until I’m satisfied I won’t be going anywhere.”

Groaning, you continue cleaning the books, “You understand how inconvenient that is to me, right?”

“You understand how inconvenient it is to me that my immortal life is tied to a pitiful human, right?” Before you can protest or really add anything to the conversation, he continues, “One, at that, who enjoys meddling with things that wish her harm?”

Ignoring basically all of what he’s just said, you glare at him, “If you’re so intent on staying here then the least you could do is be considerate and leave things as you find them.” Getting up, you approach him and pluck the book from his hands, “Or better yet, not snoop around in things that do not belong to you.”

He waves you off, “Things would go smoother if you would just cooperate.”

You don’t really have a reply so you don’t give him one, choosing instead to walk back to the bookshelf and place the book you took from him on it. This being your reality hasn’t really set in yet, how are you meant to live like this? Glancing back at the demon lounging on your couch, he stares back at you, apparently having been watching you the whole time.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away,” he says it so matter-of-factly that it pisses you off.

Turning away again, you ignore him… like he’s wrong and it’ll start working. It’s not going to, you know that. It’s been made clear he’s not leaving but you keep hoping he will. Maybe you could blame this all on your lack of sleep. You’re so tired, the rest you got definitely not enough, though you don’t think even a perfect rest would be enough to deal with all this.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, “You said we could talk more at an appropriate hour.”

You groan at him, “You’re a demon, there’s a blood pact, you technically can leave but are now choosing not to and apparently plan on making it damn near impossible for me to live a normal life.”

“I’m not the one who decided it would be a fun evening activity to summon a demon.”

Oh, he’s struck a nerve, “Well it wasn’t mine either!”

“Speaking of, get that book off your friend,” he stretches his limbs, “I don’t know what’ll happen if that binding spell is used again while I’m already stuck to you.”

You snark back at him, “Maybe you’ll go bother them instead.”

Paying no mind to your tone, he answers, “That would be the best-case scenario.”

With the books all back on the shelf, you sigh, “It’s too early for this.”

Disregarding your bad mood, he changes the topic again, “When you go out, keep a mental note of the things you see.”

“That’s so much work,” you’ve put so much time into training your brain to ignore them, doing the opposite would be effort you don’t know if you can be bothered to exert.

It’s his turn to be in a bad mood now, “I don’t care, do it.”

“So bossy…” You mutter under your breath.

“Just do what I ask, you’re being so resistant when this is for your safety,” he’s growing weary of your attitude.

“Yeah but like… I’d probably be fine; I have been for this long.” You shrug at him, “This is about you being worried about dying but you will be fine because I am always fine.”

He stares back at you, apparently lost for words but the look in his eyes says enough. He hates this situation and he hates how blasé you’re being about it.

⟢

It’s been about a month since he first showed up and he still won’t leave even though you gave up and started doing what he asked. Paying attention to the little creatures while also not looking like you’re paying attention to them is difficult and tedious but you’ve done it. Somehow, there seems to be less of them ever since Choso, you don’t know if correlation is equal to causation in this situation but it has to be more than a coincidence.

When you had told Choso about this connection you made he only hummed at you in thought and then walked away to the spare room you graciously allowed him to stay in. He’s so dismissive of you but getting time to yourself without his overwhelming presence is a small relief you allow yourself to feel.

Having him in your home is weird to say the least, he’s not as annoying as a house guest as you initially thought he would be but it’s also strange that he’s just… always here. If he sleeps you’re never around to witness it and he still goes through all your things even though you protest every time you find him doing so. To his credit, you imagine he is incredibly bored so you’re not as mean as you could be.

Tonight is the date you were meant to go on a while ago, you kept postponing it. There’s been too much on your mind to think about dating, even if you wanted to you wouldn’t be able to bring him back to your apartment, not with the demon residing in your guest room.

It’s too late to back out though and you’ve cancelled so many times now, you’d feel bad if you did it again. So, you get ready even though you’re not as excited as you would’ve been a month ago. It really is a shame; he’s a nice person and you feel awful for rescheduling on him so much.

While looking in the mirror by your front door, Choso shows up behind you, watching you fuss over your appearance. His brows pinch at you in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready,” you glance at him through the mirror.

He waits a moment like he’s expecting you to say more, “…For?”

Your brow raises at him, “I feel like I’ve told you already.”

Still, you didn’t answer his question. Something that has been growing to annoy him. He sighs at you, “Then remind me.”

Spinning to face him before answering, “I have a date tonight.”

“Hmm… and you’ll be going out… all night?”

The way he phrased it is bizarre to you, cocking your head as you ask, “Is that a problem?”

“It should be fine,” he looks to be in thought, an expression you’re getting used to seeing.

“Is there something you want or can I go now,” you meant it as more of a rhetorical question but he doesn’t seem to take it as one.

“I want to test something before you leave,” he steps closer to you.

You’d take a step back but the wall is right behind you, “And what do you want to test?”

He ignores your question, much to your dismay. He’s stepping closer to you and you feel worried at what he’s about to do, not able to do anything but stand here. As he wraps his arms around you, you brace yourself for something more to happen but nothing does. His hands pull you closer to him, your body flush to his. When you realise he’s not going to do anything to you, you wiggle in his hold.

He leans down to speak into your ear, “Don’t move.”

The words breathed against your skin send a shiver down your spine. “Were you just… in the mood for a cuddle or is there a grand reason behind this?” You’re hoping to offer levity, feeling uncomfortable at the moment.

It’s warm, he’s warm and sturdy, his breath hot against you. Your body temperature is rapidly spiking, your thoughts getting fuzzy the longer he holds you against him.

He pulls back from you, as stoic as ever, “Pay attention to your surroundings tonight.”

It’s not until later into that evening that you realise what he may have done by holding you like that, the shadows that you so often see nowhere near you. His little test lingering in your head the whole time you’re trying to have a nice date, not able to focus on the person in front of you.

Instead, your brain is caught on how it felt when a particular demon held you close and how his breath against your skin made your head spin. This whole ordeal is only going to become more taxing on you, you just know it.

⟢

Days have passed and your mind is still stuck on how Choso had held you, brow twitching every time you find yourself daydreaming about him. He’s the demon in your guest room, not some cute guy at work, you need to get a hold of yourself. You can’t be thinking about him like that… maybe you should just ask for a favour so that he leaves for a bit. That way you’d at least get some space from him, he’s always here and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore how attractive he is.

The sound of your mindless chopping fills your ears, trying to prepare dinner for this evening and getting woefully distracted. A slip of the knife and a pain in your finger reminds you just how distracted you seem to have gotten. Intaking a sharp breath at the cut you’re about to move for the sink only for Choso to be behind you, his unexpected presence startling you.

“How many times have I asked you to not do that,” you scold him, he’s scared you like this too many times to count.

He disregards your admonishment, “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m aware,” you blink at him, “I was going to–”

The words you were about to speak dying in your throat when he grabs your hand, his tongue licking up the trail of blood before lathing over your cut. Careful to watch what he’s doing the whole time, not wanting to hurt you further as he licks up the mess. You can only look back at him dazed, brain feeling like it’s short circuiting. He’s flustered you and you have no idea how to respond to such an action.

“W–why did you do that?”

His gaze flicks to you, mouth pulling back, “To help.”

Before you slap him silly you look at your small wound and see it’s been completely healed. Apparently his tongue possesses some healing properties, and you’d find that really interesting if you weren’t trying really hard to not think about how he looked while licking you.

“You taste good,” he says it easily, like it doesn’t have you melting into a puddle on the floor.

Your mouth gapes at him, lost for words before settling on, “You can’t just go around licking people, Choso.”

“I don’t,” his expression incredulous, finding your accusation baseless despite his actions just now.

Not knowing what else to say, you stand there looking back at him stupidly. The expression he’s making unreadable, clearly nowhere near as affected by his actions as you are. His hand reaches for your chin and tilts your head back to look at you, eyes examining you closely.

“What’s wrong with you,” he asks suddenly.

You don’t understand what he means by that, “What? Nothing?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted lately, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”

It’d be easy to mistake his questions for concern if you didn’t know any better, but you do, he’s a demon. Something you find yourself having to remember often, he doesn’t care for you, not in a matter that you’d want to be cared for. You don’t even know if he’s capable of it. It feels cruel to be asked questions and given reminders to look out for yourself when the person giving them doesn’t actually care about you but rather himself.

“Choso, please hand me that tea towel,” you pause and his head tilts at you in confusion. Clarifying, you add, “You have to, this is the favour I am asking of you.”

The only tell that you’ve asked properly being his grim expression, wholly unimpressed by this situation. His jaw clenches as his body turns stiffly to grab what you’ve asked for, as if he were trying to hold off on completing the request.

“Why now?” He hisses lowly.

There’s a tug in your heart, already regretting your actions but he can’t stay here with you. Letting your feelings for him grow would be stupid and despite what they say, absence does not make the heart grow fonder. This is logical, this is the smart choice, this is what’s best… so why is it hurting you so much.

Eyes intense and annoyance palpable, a singular request uttered, “Call me back.”

You shake your head at him, having him return so soon would defeat the purpose of what you’re attempting to do.

“You are the most frustrating human by far,” he begrudgingly hands you the tea towel, scowling as he disappears from your apartment.

The breath you let out is large, body folding with it, stuck between feeling relief and regret. Everything is still and your apartment feels emptier than ever. Blankly, you stare at the tea towel in your hand. Its bright and happy pattern feels mocking. This is fine.

Looking back at your bench, the half-chopped vegetables sit on your cutting board. This is fine. This feeling will pass. In a week, or two, this will feel like nothing more than a long and vivid dream. This. Is. Fine.

⟢

It’s beginning to feel like… the damage had already been done. The days go by but you still remember how he looked when you’d come home. His brow relaxing when you’d step through the door, like he was worried about you while you were gone. His patience while he listened to you complain about things he wasn’t even a little bit concerned with. It’s been lonely at home.

Your coworker calling your name reminds you that you’re at work. Shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the memories before turning to them properly, “Sorry. What’s up?”

“Wasn’t that guy in here during your last shift?” Their voice filled with concern.

Glancing over in the direction they’re looking; you see your date from a while back. “Ignore him, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“Okay…” They squint at you, “But actually I think you should tell management about him, just so they know.”

You wave them off, not really concerned. It is a little troubling though, the guy had taken it so well when you initially told him you weren’t interested. Only to do what seems like a complete one-eighty and blow up your phone with messages. Obviously you blocked him and now he’s lightly stalking you. Maybe you’d care more if he ever approached you or if you weren’t busy thinking about Choso but alas he is low on your list of concerns.

At your coworkers intense eye contact you concede, “Fine, I’ll tell them but I doubt they’ll care.”

They put their hand on your shoulder, offering support, “If he tries to come over, tell me and I’ll deal with it instead.”

Placing your hand over theirs, you look deep into their eyes, “I love you.”

Their face twists in disgust as they push you away, “Go do your job.”

You laugh as you shuffle away, despite your joking you’re appreciative of their support. 

⟢

Those little creatures hang around you again, ever since you sent Choso away they’ve been lingering more. It’s somewhat of a bother but you did fine before he showed up and you’re doing fine now. You go through the motions, ignoring them, working, going back to your empty apartment. Your date that you can’t remember the name of keeps hanging out at your job but he gets ignored like the shadowy critters.

Not that you’ve been keeping track but it’s been a little over a month since you last saw Choso. The last thing you remember seeing was his angry face, still, you want to see him again and maybe if you didn’t feel so guilty you’d have called him back by now. Too many times you’ve almost called his name aloud but your feelings haven’t faded and calling him now seems pointless.

Plus, you’re a little concerned about how mad at you he might be. The way you asked your favour was cheap and unexpected so you’re sure he’d have some choice words and a stern look to give you. Though, there is the chance he’d be mad at you for calling him back after all this time, he might be comfortable wherever he is and you calling him might only serve to feed his anger.

Ultimately you’re indecisive on the matter, you could call him back for just a little bit, if he’s angry you’ll send him away again and it’ll all be okay… probably. Mind moving a million miles a minute as you slump back into the couch, you called out of work today, feeling stressed after not sleeping well.

You’re not quite sure what exactly has you feeling this way but you’ve been feeling a lot of unease lately. It’s more than likely everything combined but you’re not ruling out something more sinister. Choso’s words about scarier things being out there nags at you whenever you get a quiet moment to acknowledge his warning.

Your arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes. Inner turmoil getting to you as you grumble, “Stupid demon and his stupid warning, can’t even sleep properly anymore.”

A knock on your door startles you, body shooting straight up. You’re not expecting anyone, all your friends are either at work or would tell you before dropping by. Cautiously, you approach the door, choosing to look into the peephole before even thinking of opening it.

An unpleasant shiver rocks through your body, blood running cold as you see that your unwanted guest is your date from all those weeks ago. You knew he was stalking you but he only ever appeared at work, you’ve never even seen him in your neighbourhood. The fact he shouldn’t know your address meaning he’s followed you home without your knowledge making you feel sick.

Taking a step back, you consider your options. Opening the door is out of the question, pretending to not be home and waiting him out seems to be a good idea but if he’s already been to your job and seen you’re not there then he might not be as willing to believe that. You’re nervous, there’s no way to know how much he knows about you or how long he’s been watching you for. If he’s been waiting for you to leave for work then he’d know you’re still in here.

In your anxiety you bite at your lower lip, worrying it between your teeth when more patient knocks sound at your door. You didn’t really want to have to turn to him but he’s probably the only person that would get to you quickly and put you more at ease.

Fleeing to your bedroom, you keep your hurried footsteps light, not wanting to draw his attention to the sound. You cringe internally at the small squeak your door lets out as you close it as slowly as possible. Giving yourself a moment, you take a deep breath and brace yourself for the probably very angry demon you’re about to summon right to you.  

Just as you’re about to say his name, you falter, wondering if there’s more to it or if it really is as simple as just saying his name. “…Choso.”

You’re on edge immediately, it’s familiar though, distinctively Choso in how your blood warms and your hairs stand on end. It really was as simple as saying his name.

He stands in front of you, frown deeper than you’ve ever seen it, his arms folded over his chest, “You took your sweet time.”

Instantly he has you on the defensive, “I had my reasons.”

His tongue clicks at you, wholly unimpressed, “Care to enlighten me on what they may be?”

Remembering your reason for sending him away, you awkwardly reply, “Not really.”

He sighs at you, clearly annoyed by your answer, “I assume you’ve reconciled with yourself then, since you’ve summoned me back.”

“Well… no–”

There’s a thudding on your door again, more aggressive than the first few times he’d knocked. Clearly growing impatient and probably able to hear your voices. You flinch at the sound, almost forgetting that there was a reason for you calling Choso back.

Choso catches onto your unease quickly, “Who is that?”

“Ah, well… you remember that date I went on? He’s sort of been… lightly stalking me.” You clear your throat, “I felt a little… scared… so I summoned you back.”

“How long has he been stalking you for?”

“Lightly, stalking…” You overcorrect to a decidedly very unamused Choso. “…I noticed not long after you left.” You can’t say you’re really appreciating the ‘told you so’ look he’s got plastered across his features right now. “Him stalking me has nothing to do with you so stop looking at me like that.”

“For a smart girl you’re awfully clueless sometimes,” his hand reaches past you for the door handle, “After I deal with this, you’re telling me why you made me leave.”

A conversation you’d really rather not have, it’s embarrassing to think about admitting to liking the demon you accidentally forced into a blood bind. Even more embarrassing that you had to force him to leave your house because he was driving you insane.

You avoid eye contact with him as he passes by, opting to stay put while he handles the unwanted guest. Having him back brings a kind of security you weren’t even fully aware of having lost, the fact you trust this literal demon with your wellbeing should be more concerning but it only adds to your feelings for him.

While waiting you can hear their muffled voices followed by nothing, an off-putting silence filling the apartment before the door is slammed closed. Cautiously, you stick your head out of your room, looking over to where Choso is standing. His broad back facing you, when he turns to meet your eyes you can’t help but feel guilty.

You leave your room properly and walk over to him, checking over his appearance to make sure he’s fine.

His next words are simple and chilling, “He was possessed.”

You feel faint, “What?”

“Not in any real sense, those things that follow you simply latched onto him, influencing his behaviour.” There’s a distaste in his tone when referring to the shadows before he continues,  “Probably hoping to use his proximity to you to their advantage, though they’re not all that intelligent which calls into question how they managed it.” He’s looking down at you, expression grim, “Did you forget my warnings? Why did it take you so long to call me back?”

“Well, I obviously couldn’t tell he was being possessed,” you’re feeling an awful lot like he’s victim blaming you right now and you’re not in love with that, “Sometimes men are just scary like that.”

“So, you’d rather be lightly stalked than call me?” He mocks you from earlier.

“Did I say that?” You sigh, tired, “Is he going to be okay?” You’re feeling a sense of responsibility for him, it’s your fault he got possessed and if you had noticed sooner he’d have been normal long before he followed you home.

“He’ll be fine, though he probably won’t remember much of his last month.” His brow raises at you, clearly waiting for some kind of real explanation for the mess you’ve caused.

“Don’t be so crabby,” you walk away from him and flop onto the couch, head resting on the back of it, “It all turned out fine in the end.” Not acknowledging how guilty you feel is far easier than being vulnerable with him right now.

He follows you to the couch, standing resolutely in front of you, “I know you don’t have this much of a disregard for your wellbeing–”

Smirking at him, you try to play everything off, “You’re starting to sound like you were worried about me.”

“Of course I was worried about you,” his words and the ease at which he speaks them catches you off guard, “You’re being inexplicably stupid and your faux ignorance at the gravity of your situation is becoming annoying.”

Okay… ouch. Any warm fuzzy feelings you had are kind of dampened by the harsh slap of reality he just gave you.

“I know things felt a little off but I had no way of knowing if I was just imagining it or not, don’t blame me for acting human.”

“Whether you like it or not, you are not the same as every other human, act like it. Those instincts are there for a reason.” He can see the way you’re getting antsy, uncomfortable with the way he’s scolding you. “Tell me why you had me leave.”

You scrabble at that, “Is that necessary?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Is this really his priority right now?

“Because I don’t want to be caught off guard like that again and I’d rather fix what’s bothering you now.” He watches you closely, not missing how you only seem to grow more restless.

Turning your head to the side you offer, “If I promise not to do it again, will you let this go?”

“No.”

You stand up at that, trying to make the conversation feel more even, “And why not?”

He speaks very calmly, “I had to wait until you were ready to call on me, wondering the whole time if you were safe and only knowing you hadn’t met an untimely end because I was still alive.” He leans down into your space, brows furrowing at how you turn away from him. His hand grabs your chin and pulls your gaze back to his, “Don’t do that to me again.”

It’s hard to keep eye contact with him, his emotions raging behind his stoic demeanour. Your answer to his question is ambiguous, “I couldn’t have you here.”

He, of course, pushes back on that ambiguity, “Why?”

He’s infuriating you; his insistent pestering is annoying. Fine. If he wants to know so badly, you’ll tell him.

“I couldn’t think clearly with you here…” you’re confessing but it comes across as challenging, a result of your foul mood, “Because I like you and I didn’t want to let myself feel it.” As if he’d be put off by your admission, you cement, “That’s why I couldn’t have you here.”

The only response you get from him is an unreadable grin. An annoying and stupid smile as he continues to hold you still so you can’t even turn away from the maddening expression. It’s almost torture, it feels like some kind of sick and twisted form of punishment. Being in the palm of his hand, emotionally and literally.

“Human emotions aren’t all that complex but all the different reactions and rationales behind them are,” he hums at you, finding this humorous somehow.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly entertained by my inner turmoil, now either let me make you leave or stop being unnecessarily cruel.”

He lets go of you finally, a small mercy, “I thought you liked me; you’re not really acting like it.”

Thankfully you have the chance to look away from him now, “Don’t push it, Choso. Did you think I’d fall into a puddle because you touched me?”

“No but eye contact seems to embarrass you, maybe if you gazed into my eyes long enough you might.” Pleased grin still settled on his features, it’s the most you’ve seen him emote aside from annoyance.

Your response is to glare at him, directly into his eyes. If looks could kill he’d be dead and buried six feet under. “Make a choice.”

His smile falters, “What?”

“Either stay here or leave.” Those are his only options, having him here will feel unfair to you but it might be more inconvenient to him, you want to at least offer him an out.

He’s genuinely confused, he just got back to you, “Why would I leave?”

You don’t really understand the confusion but spell it out all the same, “…I don’t imagine you love the idea of a human falling for you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Falling for me?” Oh great, he’s amused again.

You can feel a headache coming on, fingers rubbing at your temples, “Don’t change the topic.”

He shrugs, “I don’t mind.”

You stop, “What?”

He repeats, “I don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind what?” Your hands drop to your sides.

His arms fold over his chest, “Your feelings for me.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t have much to do with me.”

His logic is flawed and he’s pissing you off, he always pisses you off, his feigned indifference is stupid. You keep glaring at him, eyes glinting dangerously. You step closer to him and he doesn’t move away, as sturdy as ever. Leaning up, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself to him.

You’re hugging him, he wavers for a moment before he’s hesitantly moving his hands to loop around you, hugging you back. Otherwise, he’s completely still, clearly taken off-guard by your sudden affections. You’re careful to make sure your lips just barely graze against his ear, softly admitting to him, “I missed you.”

His fingers dig into your shirt at your voice, you’re getting to him more than you expected to. Pulling back, you’re surprised by the look in his eyes. A lidded and endearing expression that almost has you forgetting the aim of your actions. Resolve weak because you’d really like to kiss him and with how he glances at your lips quickly you think he might let you but he’s a bastard and you’ve not forgotten that.

Patting his chest with your hands you smile, “Welcome home, Choso.”

Removing yourself from his hold you’re met with some resistance but ultimately you’re walking away from him and back into your room. Shutting your door, you’re leaving him alone in your living room. His head fuzzy and thoughts confused on what exactly just happened.

⟢

Having Choso back has been comforting, you’re living a lot more peacefully. Both your stalker and the shadows have left you alone. Going to work hasn’t been as nerve-wracking lately and in that sense it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. But while it’s been calm outside your apartment, inside it is a different story.

Ever since Choso’s return he’s been watching you a lot more closely than before, spending more time around you when you’re home compared to when he was first here. There’s even been a few times you’ve had to stop him from following you to work. More recently he’s taken to staring at you, your peripherals picking up on his unwavering gaze. Sometimes when you realise, it devolves into an argument.

He continues to be steadfast that he’s not staring, nothing’s wrong, and he’s the same as always but his behaviour is clearly stating otherwise. You’re the one who likes him, shouldn’t you be the one acting strangely around him? Overall, it’s not a huge deal it’s just annoying to feel so observed in your own home. If you were meaner, you’d ask him in a way so he’d have to answer honestly but it feels oddly invasive to have someone be honest with you against their will.

You’re just trying to enjoy your evening, watching T.V. and lazing but you can feel his eyes on you. It’s making it hard to get comfortable,so without looking at him you simply say, “Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he sounds sure, like he’s certain he’s not doing anything to warrant your words.

“Choso…” you pause and turn to look at him, getting a little distracted by how he looks with his hair down. “I can’t get comfortable when you keep staring at me, just watch the show.”

His head drops forward to look at the T.V., clearly unimpressed, “This is boring.”

Ignoring the urge to argue in favour of your favourite show, you retort, “Because staring at me is so interesting.”

Silence. He has nothing to reply with.

Groaning at him, “You’ve been staring at me so much lately, it’s becoming frustrating.”

Reply quick and wrong, “I’m not staring.”

You squint at him accusatorily, “You are a liar.” Growing exasperated, you grumble, “If you have something to ask just ask it.”

“Can I touch you?” He’d almost seem sheepish when asking if he wasn’t so blunt.

There’s an upsetting kind of excitement settling in you when he asks, mostly you’re taken aback though, “What? Why?”

“Because–” He begins to explain but you’re cutting him off before he can.

“–Choso, you understand that I like you right? I like the idea of–” you stop, the sudden quiet awkward before you start again. “The point is – I like you and it’s unfair of you to ask me things like that.”

“Is that a no?”

Thinking on it for a moment, you decide, “It’s not…”

His hand moves for you slowly, as if he’s cautious of the fact you might change your mind. Hand on your cheek gentle, a kind of softness you didn’t think him explicitly capable of. It lingers for a moment, thumb brushing high on your cheek before he drops his hand. Moving lower instead, wrapping around your torso. You’re not completely sure on what you were expecting when he asked if he could touch you but as he pulls you to him and embraces you, you’re certain you weren’t expecting this.

The angle is a little awkward, you’re trying to hug him back as best as you can but it’s uncomfortable and it seems to bother him because he’s quickly tugging you onto his lap. Arms big and firm around you, holding you close. This is a kind of intimacy you’ve not experienced before; it’s making you nervous, you still don’t know what he wants from you, and this did nothing to make it any clearer.

“Calm down,” his words vibrate through his chest.

“I am calm.”

He knows better, “You’re not, I can tell.”

“Ignore it,” you’re embarrassed.

He huffs at you, partway amused, “Fine.”

Then he’s pulling you in closer, his face burying into you, nosing at your neck. The way he inhales your scent has goosebumps breaking out across your skin, almost shameless in his actions. It feels like he’s trying to make you even more nervous, taking your words to ignore you at face value. There’s a sick kind of joy he has to be getting from this, from how your heartbeat speeds up and how your breaths come faster. You almost feel like you’re shaking with nervous energy.

Voice trembling when you ask, “What are you doing?”

His response is to state the obvious, “Embracing you.”

You murmur back at him, “Are you done yet?”

“No.”

How annoying, at least he’s consistent in how easily he frustrates you. His few simple words always managing to get under your skin, its effect on you running deeper than you feel comfortable with.

Instead of trying to understand his motivations any further, you choose to relax into him, allowing yourself to be held. You have a feeling that he’s not sure enough of his own actions to explain them to you, so you’ll settle for being confused but held.

His breath tickles your ear, “You missed me?”

“Hmm?” You take a second to process, “Yeah…”

“Say it.”

His request takes you off guard, you’re pulling back slightly to make eye contact with him. He wants to hear you say it, his eyes imploring yours.

Your hand cradles his face, giving him what he wants, “I missed you.”

“I think…” his gaze flits between your eyes and your lips, “I missed you too.”

A small smile breaks out across your face, “Be careful, you might damage your demon rep if anyone hears you.”

He leans up to you, his lips just shy of yours, almost brushing them when he speaks, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You’re about to say something that would no doubt embarrass you when he’s taking the chance to connect your lips. Heart leaping in your chest at how fully he kisses you, insistent in how he leans up to you more, arms around you and tugging you down into him. There’s a neediness in his movements you didn’t expect him to have for you.

It’s making you dizzy, his kiss, his hands on your back, the desperation from him you weren’t ready for. Like he’s been pent up and the flood gates have opened, barely willing to part for a second to breathe.

It’s a lot, you’ve never been kissed like this, so completely, so desired. It’s hard to think, all thoughts you have muddling together. You need to breathe but every time you try to open your mouth to speak he’s planting another full kiss to your lips.

With your fingers in his hair, you tug on him, he groans as he’s pulled back. Finally, you’re able to draw in the air you needed, chest rising and falling quickly with relief. Choso stays looking at you, his eyes lidded as he watches you breathe. It’s hot in your apartment now, or that might just be you, your skin warm, feeling warmer with how he’s looking at you.

There’s nothing coming to mind, it feels like you should say something, but you’re completely lost for words. He’s rendered you speechless, still feeling a little dizzy as your eyes drop to his lips, glossy and slick from your shared kiss. A small smile spreads across his face, and it prompts you to look up, realising you were staring.

You feel fuzzy when you remember how he’d said he missed you, a dopey grin on your face, “You said you missed me.”

He doesn’t deny it, “I did.”

“You meant it?” You’re already asking your question before he’s even really finished giving his reply.

He pretends to think on it, for no other reason than to tease, “Hmm… Yes. I think so.”

You mutter at him, “Cruel…”

His hand cradles the side of your face, so gentle in how his thumb brushes over your cheek, “Did you?”

“Did I what?” A little lost at his question, too busy registering how it feels when he touches you.

“Mean it when you said you missed me,” The hand on your face trails further down, thumb tugging your lower lip.

Your lips quirk up in a smile, tone playful, “I mean everything I say.”

The look he gives you conveys severe doubt, it comes from experience of dealing with you.

His expression earns an eye roll from you, conceding without him even saying anything, “Okay so maybe not everything but I mean it when I say I missed you.”

Hand trailing even further down, now resting against the side of your neck. He’s probably able to feel your thumping pulse under his fingers, “And the other thing?”

If you tried to guess what he was asking you’d probably know but just to be sure, “What other thing?”

“You said something about liking me,” he’s trying to play it off, a nonchalance he usually possesses nowhere to be found in his words despite his efforts.

“I’m starting to think you just like hearing how much I like you,” crossing your arms, you add, “It’d be cute if it didn’t feel mean.”

“I’m not trying to be mean.”

“You haven’t even told me how you feel about me.”

Choso’s head quirks slightly, “Was the kiss not enough?”

“I don’t know, maybe you kiss everyone else like that too,” your finger jabs at his chest accusatorily.

“Did you just call me a whore?”

“No.” You look away and pout, “I implied it.”

“I’m not a whore.” He seems distracted when he says it.

You squint at him; some doubt there but not serious. You’re not sure you ever considered him a virgin, but you didn’t really consider the opposite either. His hands are still on you, one slipping under your shirt, warm against your bare skin, the distraction in his words a little clearer now when you notice the way he’s been looking at you.

“Can I kiss you again or are you too busy implying I’m a whore?”

“You can’t kiss me again because you didn’t answer my question.”

His brows pull up, “Funny, I don’t remember it being phrased as one.”

Leaning into him, your lips hover over his, so close you’re almost touching. Just as he’s about to close the gap you pull back, “How do you feel about me?”

He sighs when you move away, “Right now?”

If that’s how he wants to play it, fine. “I’m not gonna sit on just anybody’s lap and make out with them.” You make a move to get off of him, not willing to sit so suggestively in the lap of someone who doesn’t even like you.

He stops you from going anywhere, his large hands firm on your hips. “Am I just anybody? I thought you liked me.”

“Right now?” You quirk a brow at him.

“Don’t be petulant.”

“I’m not being petulant, I’m just not willing to debase myself for a demon who doesn’t even like me.”

“I never said I didn’t like you,” he offers like it’s enough, gaze already set on your lips again.

The very lips that are pouting moodily back at him, not entertained by such a small concession. Instead of dignifying him with a further back and forth, you seriously move to get off him. Hands planted on his chest as you throw a cautious glance back at where you’re stepping. When he realises he’s not satisfied you his hands grapple for you, somewhat frantic that you’re leaving the comfortable place he’d had you sat.

Words rushing from him, almost surprising himself with how needy he sounds, “Don’t– don’t leave–”

“–Why not?” It’s sharp, how you cut him off, quickly growing embarrassed at how forward you’ve been.

“Because I like having you close,” he replies obviously, brows pinching slightly. He takes your pause as opportunity to manoeuvre you back into place, arms around you, holding you tight to his chest.

Soft sigh leaving you, annoyed by how endearing you find him. “Choso…”

“I missed you…” His face has found its way to your neck. Breathing in your scent, shiver running down his spine with it, “…Because I like you.” Almost like he can’t stop himself, he licks at your neck, tasting you. A low sound coming from him, “I like you a lot.”

This took a sudden turn from playful to frustrating to dizzying, the air around you is heavy as he licks and nips at your skin. Pulling shaky breaths in when his hand slides under your shirt again, the feeling of his skin on yours hot.

“I–”

Whatever you were about to say is getting cut off, “–Are you gonna let me kiss you now?” His words are spoken between kisses as he trails his lips up to the side of your face.

Without saying anything, you turn your head slightly to the side. Lips meeting his easily, melding together in a soft kiss. He’s careful this time but no less insistent, quickly growing less restrained. Your hands grip his shoulders, fingers pulling at the material of his shirt.

A small noise leaves you when he’s licking into your mouth, the sound seemingly setting Choso off. One of his hands jumps for your face, the other holding your throat. His kisses growing needy. It’s all you can do to try and keep up with him, his lips fervent and messy.

Your fingers thread through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp and it’s like he melts into you. Soft moan leaving him you weren’t expecting, your chest stuttering as you stifle down the whine bubbling in you. He sounded so pretty when he moaned, you want to hear it again. Repeating the motion, you nip at his lower lip at the same time, trying to coax it out of him.

Unfortunately, he stuffs down the noise the second time, just barely – his body shudders with it. He uses his hand on your throat to hold you in place, his forehead resting on yours. Huffed breaths shared in the space between you, your eyes are unfocused and glassy, his much the same. You’re trying to calm yourself, worked up and very nearly squirming on top of him.

There’s something you should tell him, especially with how heated this exchange is getting but you can’t seem to get your head on straight long enough to voice yourself. Choso seems to be able to tell that you’re struggling though, his expression amused but no less kiss drunk than you.

Showing mercy, he gives you an opening, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” This is embarrassing, “I don’t wanna be presumptuous or anything but you should– uhm… I just think you should know…” your skin feels unbelievably hot right now, feeling flushed as you murmur, “…I’m a virgin.”

He hums at you, completely unsurprised at your confession, “I know.” He ignores your sputtering at his simple statement, nose running along your cheek in a soft show of affection.

“What do you mean–” You fight to hide the shiver running down your spine at his gentle touch.

“–Are you telling me this because you want to have sex?” His words are low against your skin, something about him feeling predatory, “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

Choso can’t help but feel greedy, the idea of you letting him – a demon – be your first fills him with a possessiveness he couldn’t explain in a way that wouldn’t have him looking like a huge pervert.

Your voice is shaky as you avoid answering him, “You never answer my questions…”

He huffs a small laugh, having purposefully cut you off so he didn’t have to answer, “Do you really want to know how I know?”

Something about how he looks at you, eyes glinting in the soft light of the room has you questioning if you really want to. “Is the answer going to embarrass me?”

“You?” He makes a soft sound, his thumb smooths over your throat, “Probably, you fluster easily.”

“I don’t fluster easily…” his gaze is setting your skin on fire, “…I just like you is all.”

“So you’ve said,” he mumbles out, leaning in and licking up the length of your throat where his hand just was.

The reaction he gets from you is damn near visceral, a gasp pulling from you at the sudden action. Your brain is rebooting, struggling to form words when he begins nipping at your neck. Anything you were about to say comes in the form of jumbled words and weak moans. A sound he seems to delight in if the curling of his lips against your skin is anything to go by.

“You get distracted easily,” his breath is ticklish against you, “You never answered my question.”

Did he ask a question? You suddenly can’t remember, “What was the question again?”

He laughs at your lapse in memory, “Did you want me to fuck you?”

The choice in phrasing makes you bristle, hating how he’s right that you fluster easily. He’s taking joy in how you pause at his question, obviously having asked so bluntly just to watch you squirm. Choso is patient though, happy to continue leaving marks on your delicate skin while you try to get it together enough to reply. His canines grazing over the patches of skin he’s sucked marks into, the shivers that run through you at it making him smile.

“Y– hah– yeah…” your reply is clumsy and breathy. His lips are off your neck as soon as you answer, his arms hold onto your thighs as he stands. Not expecting to be picked up you let out a refrained squeal and wrap your limbs around him tight. “A warning would’ve been nice,” you chastise him, to which he pays no mind. 

All of Choso’s focus is on getting you to your bedroom, knowing better than trying to fuck you on your couch, not for your first time anyways. And now his head is full of all the times after, will you let him take you on all the surfaces in your home? Will you pick fucking him on your couch over the completely inane show you were watching earlier?

When he reaches your bed, he leans down, aiming to gently lay you on your mattress but you’re still clinging to him. He speaks into your skin, “Trying to put you down.”

“Right…” You smile bashfully and let go, dropping the last inch onto your bed.

He’s crawling over you and moving in to kiss you softly, lips gentle as he holds you. It’s sweet and fleeting, already he’s pulling away from you to pull his shirt off. Leaving himself bare to you, his skin enticing. Only realising the meaning behind this action when his hand is trailing down to your pants, fingers dancing along your waistline. He’d taken his shirt off to ease your nerves about him undressing you.

Little glimpses of how he regards you in his actions, treating you with a kindness you’ve never felt. A concern for how you feel and how he makes you feel, all completely wordless, not feeling the need to explain himself. The fingers at your pants tickle against your skin, his eyes meeting yours and finding that you’re looking at him with borderline hearts in your eyes.

His hand slips past your waist band, tugging your pants down over your hips. You lift your legs to aid in his removal of them, feeling absurdly shy lying in front of him in nothing but a shirt and your underwear.

Palms smooth up your inner thighs, lightly pushing your legs open for him to sit between. His eyes burn into you, making you feel nervous. You try to close your legs but his hands are heavy on you, keeping them open. When you look at him, you can see his skin flushing a very pretty light pink.

“You’re so wet,” he comments, hoping to fluster you more than him.

It works because you’re squirming again, legs struggling fruitlessly against his grip, “Shuddup.”

Mindless hum coming from him as acknowledgement and you doubt it’s because he’s actually heeding your words. More so he’s had another thought and moved on, motives clear when one of his hands moves from your plush thigh and to your panties. Thumb pressing into the wet spot on them, dipping into your cunt only to tease you.

Drawing his thumb up, he presses into your clit, giving pressure against it and not much else. Small whines and stuttered breaths leaving you at his teasing, feeling completely on edge and realising he’s probably not going to stop teasing any time soon. Clearly he gets pleasure from watching you fidget and struggle to keep your noises contained.

He tortuously plays with you over your panties for too long, fingers sweeping from your clit to your hole and back too many times. Your wetness leaking into your underwear the longer he plays with you, the thin material moulding to your pussy. Hips jumping every time his finger trails over your clit, pleasure so muted that you’re growing frustrated with him.

“Choso,” you grumble at him, reaching your limit.

He barely glances at you, still playing with your pussy, “Finally found your voice?”

Bastard… he’d been waiting for you to say something. His patience almost frightening, no hurry in his movements.

“Can you… do more?” This is embarrassing, it’s your first time and he’s teasing you so cruelly, “Please?”

He smiles politely at you, “Of course.”

Bastard…

Finally, after what feels like hours, he’s tugging your panties down your legs. Foreboding smile on his face as he holds them up, thumbing over the crotch of your drenched underwear. At your disgruntled whine he discards them to some corner of your room haphazardly. Feeling so vulnerable, you go to close your legs again, the contrast between his and your state of dress something you’re too conscious of all of a sudden.

“Keep your legs open,” he chastises, hand on your knees and pushing them apart obscenely.

When he shuffles to lean down you startle, “You– you don’t have to do that…”

“You don’t want me too?” His eyebrow quirks at you.

“You won’t get anything out of it…”

He’s a little annoyed that you stopped him for such a stupid reason, “Not what I asked, do you want me to eat your pussy?”

You can’t look at him, face absurdly hot, “…Yes.”

“Worried about stupid things,” he murmurs, moving onto his stomach again. Pulling you closer to his face once he’s in place, “I’m going to enjoy this immensely.”

Stuttered gasp leaving you, he’s not waited anymore, apparently having deprived himself long enough. Maybe it’s his fault for playing with you for so long but he’s grown desperate for this, if you hadn’t let him, his heart might’ve broken. He licks through your cunt, tongue opening up your slit. Small grumbles leaving him as he drinks you down, his arms wrap around your legs and tug you open more, face pushing into you.

You’re a little worried he’s going to suffocate himself, his eagerness staggering. Just as you’re about to say something to him, his tongue is insistently pushing inside your hole. Shocked whines leaving you as he fucks you with it, his nose rubbing into your clit. You’re a twitching mess, already so pathetically close. All his teasing has made everything so much more sensitive, head fuzzy as he laps at your cunt.

One of your hands reaches down and threads through his hair, tugging on him. He doesn’t even flinch, throaty moan leaving him the only evidence that you had actually pulled on him. He’s ravenous and obsessed with how you’re fluttering around his tongue, your small whines and huffed breaths making him dizzy.

Looking down at him you hope to mumble out anything but when you’re met with his glazed over and lidded stare, your heart stumbles in your chest, pussy jumping. He looks drunk on you, his throat bobbing as he slurps down your slick. He’s messy and the sounds filling the room are wet and depraved. With how he’s fucking into you and the look on his face, you can’t tell if this is more for your benefit or his.

Cries of his name leave you, stumbling over the syllables every time his nose presses into your clit just right. Then he’s withdrawing his tongue, sad pitiful noise leaving you at the loss of getting so close. A hand leaves your thigh, single digit probing at your entrance, pushing in so carefully. His eyes locked on how you’re stretching around his finger to accommodate him, he feels like he’s going to start drooling.

Your cunt so warm and tight around his finger, his chest pulling at the thought of opening you up with his cock. The clumsy manner in which you’re calling out to him making him feel sickly fond of you, pressing a light kiss onto your inner thigh.

Unexpectedly, he praises you, “You’re pretty,” murmured low, his eyes racking over your whole form.

The compliment has you shy, it’d be so sweet if your slick wasn’t dripping down his chin. “I– thank you…” you look away from him.

He chuckles at your response, refocusing on your cunt, slowly pumping his finger in and out. Relishing in how you squirm at it, beginning to seriously doubt your ability to take him. Taking his time in opening you up, digit rubbing against your inner walls just to watch your chest stutter and hips twitch.

Not adding a second finger until your whines are pitchy and you’re relaxing around him, stuffing your little cunt full with his two big fingers. The feel of your walls clamping down on them making his dick twitch in his pants. Scissoring his two digits to stretch you open, impatient and mouth watering, he’s leaning down to lick at your pussy again. Tongue slipping in with his fingers just to get a taste of you before slurping at your clit.

You feel full and dizzy, head lolling back as he fucks into you, struggling to close your legs around his body. Free hand still holding you, pushing up to open you even more. Choso’s name leaving you through mumbles, hard to talk around your moans. The way he’s stroking your walls has you seeing stars, his tongue on your clit making your back arch.

It’s so much, not able to decide if you’re trying to roll your hips down into him or if you want to pull away. Not that you’re getting much of a choice anyways, anytime you twitch away he’s growling at you and pulling you right back down to him. The sounds of his fingers fucking into your pussy filling the room, wet slapping that would be embarrassing if you weren’t getting so close.  

The hand in his hair tugging on him again, dark moan leaving him, not stopping for a moment. He can feel how you’re squeezing down on his fingers; he can hear the way you’re skipping breaths, thighs shaking from the build-up. He doesn’t stop, even as you whine and push at him, so sensitive that your impending orgasm feels like too much. He’s not depriving you of this, he’s not depriving himself of this.

With a loud gasp and shocked whine, you’re cumming around his fingers. Almost feels like Choso purrs at how you’re contracting around him, not stopping his movements to help you ride out your high. Eventually pulling his fingers out of you only to grab onto your other thigh and pull you completely open. Mouth on your cunt before you’ve even really registered that he’s made you cum.

He lewdly slurps at your pussy, apparently having been patient about making you cum when this is what he really wanted. You’re sensitive and flinching away from him, soft whimpers leaving you, not even able to try and move away from him with how he’s holding you. The hand you have in his hair pushing at his head weakly.

“Choso– it’s– hah– too much,” your eyes feel wet and your thoughts are foggy.

He groans in disappointment but pulls back all the same, though not before blowing lightly on your clit, smile evil at your twitchy reaction. Showing mercy, he moves his head to rest against your thigh. Teeth nibbling at your skin, tongue lathing over the small marks he’s made. Finally sitting up and resting on his knees, he delights in how ruined you look. Marks he’s left on you from all his kisses on your neck, your thighs, cunt glistening with your cum and his saliva, eyes glazed, lips swollen from his kisses and how you’d been biting at them.

Readjusting, he trails his hands up your sides, pushing your shirt upwards as he goes. His eyes meet yours, checking to make sure you’re okay with his actions. You’re lifting your arms to help him take it off properly, shirt sharing the same fate as you’re other clothes and being banished to the floor.

He can’t help himself, hands groping at your tits, squeezing and pulling at you. Lightly pinching at your nipples just to make you gasp. Leaning down he lays his tongue flat over your nipple, licking at it sloppily. Messy in how he drools onto your sensitive skin, hands still pawing at the fat of your tits.

Distracted by how he’s playing with your naked body, neglecting his throbbing cock. Switching his mouth to your other nipple, teeth dragging over it lightly. His dick leaking into his pants at the shiver he pulls from you.

“Cho–” his name gets caught in your throat at how he pinches at you, back arching up into him.

The small way you called out to him seemingly enough to pull him back to, finally removing his mouth from you in an obscene display. Thin string of spit connecting his mouth to your skin, breaking when his tongue passes over his lower lip. Moving upwards, his face nuzzles into the side of your cheek, leaving soft and wet kisses against you. Fighting the urge to leave even more marks on you, instead resting his mouth next to your ear.

“You doing okay?” His breath is warm but still it sends a pleasant chill down your spine.

You nod your head at him in response to his question, not feeling sure enough of your voice to try and speak.  

A hand holds the side of your face, his lips meeting yours in a wet kiss. Tongue licking into your mouth fervently, small groan sounding from him when your hands hold onto his shoulders, appreciating your touch. He’s warm, a comforting warmth that you’re coming to crave from him. Looping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him down onto you, his skin against yours.

His mouth parts from yours at the sudden shift but lets it happen, his arms scooping under and around you. Skin against yours tickling a part of your brain nicely, your legs wrap around him. Wanting him pressed up against you completely, only to whine when you’re met with the material of his pants.

Choso huffs a small laugh at your disgruntled noise, amused by your desire to have him pressed to you. He shifts to sit up but you’re clinging to him, refusing to let go. “If you want me to take off my pants I need to sit up.”

Annoyed, you let go and flop back onto the mattress. His eyes watch the way your tits move with the force of your landing and you cross your arms over them, “Take off your pants then.”

He doesn’t waste any more time, tugging his pants off hastily, like he’s suddenly been reminded of just how hard his aching cock is. It’s quick how he undresses himself, one second wearing pants and the next completely bare with his large cock in his hand. Lightly stroking himself, hissing between his teeth at the slight pressure.

Flushed a deep pink, so hard and leaking precum down the length of himself, it looks almost painful. Before you can reach out for him, a hand is pushing back on your thigh, “Need to be in you.”

You don’t even get a chance to be shy, not with the way he’s rubbing the tip of his dick between your folds. From your hole to your clit and back down again, pressing into you just slightly each time.

He speaks through his teeth, “You need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” you return.

“You’re not,” he can barely push in, too worried about hurting you.

He presses his thumb to your lips, about to ask you to lick, surprised when your lips wrap around it and suck lightly. His skin flushing a deeper pink, feeling like he’s about to melt into a puddle in front of you. A breath shudders through him as he pulls his thumb from you, reaching down and rubbing circles into your clit. You need to relax for him.

His cock probes at your entrance, carefully pushing into your gooey hole. Still so cautious of your comfortability despite the ravenous need clawing at his insides. After a bit of coaxing, he’s able to push the tip of his cock inside. Your chest seizes and your cunt clamps down against the feeling, the stretch painful enough to have you shocked but not enough to have you in legitimate pain.

Choso just about passes out, your pussy so tight around him that it takes him off guard, even more so when your hole flutters around him. He reaches out for your hand and laces your fingers together, his breaths heavy and sputtered as he tries to collect himself enough to talk you through it.

“Gotta relax,” he huffs at you, dick jerking at the pretty look on your face, “I’m gonna take my time, gonna be so careful with you, so just calm down.”

“Oh– Okay,” you can do that, you can calm down.

Choosing to focus on something else, on how his hand holds yours, on his voice soothing you. Trying hard to even your breathing, partway succeeding, enough so that you’re relaxing again. Something Choso is infinitely grateful for because he felt like he could cum from the tight grip of your cunt and the cute look of your pinched brows alone. He’s so patient with you, waiting until you tell him it’s okay before even thinking of moving again.

Voice still shaky when you tell him, “Y–You can move, Choso.”

He grunts at you, an acknowledgement that he’s heard you. Hips slow as he sinks in more, breath catching at how you react to him. Thumb back on your clit to help you take him more, only getting about halfway before your free hand is pushing back on his chest. Immediately he stops, not wanting to push you past your limits. Your hand is gripping his tight, it makes his heart tug, his hand squeezing back at yours.

“You’re doing s–so– hah– good,” he coos at you.

Aiming to help but his voice is breaking and needy and the only thing it does is make your pussy flutter around his achingly hard dick. His eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head at the feel of your slick walls.

Glancing down, you worry, “I don’t th– think I’m gonna be able to take it all.”

You sound so concerned about not fully taking him and he can’t help but chuckle breathlessly at it, “That’s okay, this much is enough.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he pulls your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, “You okay if I move?”

Nodding at him, “Yeah, you can move.”

Drawing his hips back, he hisses through his teeth, brows scrunched as he focuses on his movements. Careful as he starts a pace he thinks you’ll be able to handle, fucking you on half of his cock. Even this much has his head spinning, addicted to the feel of your plush cunt sucking him in. Relishing in the sound of your rapid heartbeat and stifled whimpers, your hand unravels from his to grip the sheets. He takes the chance to hold you open, more control over his pace this way.

Incoherent whines tumble from your lips, words not even close to comprehensible. Desperate need resting inside your chest suddenly, you want all of him, you want to feel stuffed to the brim. Trying to convey it is hard, especially when just half his dick has your brain scrambled and fuzzy.

“C–Cho– more,” stumbled and huffed but clear enough, “Please.”

He hesitates, “I don’t think–”

“–Please~” you whine out to him, plead stretching long with your gasped moans.

He can’t help but cave when he looks at you and sees your cute expression, unshed tears sitting pretty on your lashes. Giving you what you want and fucking into you, stuffing more of his cock inside your tight hole each time he thrusts in. He feels like this might be as close to heaven as he’s ever going to get, opening you up on his fat dick while you tremble under him.  

Choso’s beginning to feel like a mess with how you’re squeezing him, so tight his balls ache. Your staggered breath and absent gaze driving him crazy. Skin glowing with a sheen of perspiration while your eyes roll. His cock hitting so deep inside you your breath hitches when he’s finally balls deep, you could almost could swear he’s in your ribcage.  

Your toes curl and your head lolls back, drooling at how it feels to be this fucking full, your mind truly slipping through your fingers and he hasn’t even begun fucking you proper yet. Before he moves he grips your hips, fingers digging into the fat there, enjoying how soft you are. Drawing back cautiously to make sure he doesn’t do anything to hurt you and upon realising you’re basically already fucked dumb finds himself thrusting back inside you. The force of it rocking you, fingers gripping the sheets tight as you moan pathetically.

Setting a rabid pace, he finally lets himself fuck into you how he craves. Hands gripping your skin while he stuffs your sensitive pussy, your lips bulging around his thick length, struggling to take him. Beyond turned on with how good it feels, obscene and wet slapping resounding from the room, along with the pitiful sounds you manage to let slip.

Beginning to feel like he’s fucking you to borderline insanity, his or yours he can’t ascertain, all he knows is that he’s obsessed with the slick heat of your cunt. Effectively pussy drunk and if he thought he wasn’t leaving your side before he sure as hell isn’t now, not willing to give up something as sweet as you. It’s funny how you’ve basically pussy whipped him without even trying or knowing.

“Feel s–so– fuck– feel so good,” he gasps at you, needing you to know just how perfect you are.

His hands move from your hips to anywhere else he can grab, handsy as he gropes at you, wanting to touch you everywhere he possibly can. Eventually landing on wrapping around you and pulling you up, the position having you sinking down on his cock more. Sputtered moans leaving you at the sudden change, arms looping around his neck and scrabbling at his back, nails no doubt leaving marks.

Chest to chest, skin contact that has a shiver running down your spine pleasantly. You wish you could tell him how good he’s making you feel, how close you’re getting, how fuzzy your brain feels but the words won’t come. Instead settling for whimpering into his shoulder, drooling on him slightly.

His hands travel lower and grab at your thighs wrapped around him, pulling you further open and using his grip to use you like a sex toy. Fucking you so deliciously and easily that you feel like the room is spinning. Your mouth latches onto his neck, leaving behind dark marks, something for your mouth to do beside crying out his name uselessly. Not that he particularly minded, enjoying immensely how wrecked you sounded as you cried out for him.

He notices the way your breath catches and nails dig into him more, getting close to cumming. Something he wants desperately, his thrusts more forceful, excited at the thought of you gripping him sinfully tight.

“You been doing so good,” he breathes, “Just let go for me.”

The words spoken against your ear sends a tingle through your body, muscles pulling tight like you’re getting ready for impact. Your whimpers pitchy as you twitch in his grasp, your nails nearly making him bleed. You’re cumming around him so perfectly, falling apart in his hands, squirming and hips jumping. Cunt so fucking tight he swears he’s gone to heaven, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans shamelessly. His teeth bite into your neck, lathing over the wound quickly healing any blood he might’ve drawn with the action.

Hips jerking up into you as he fucks you through it, your orgasm ultimately triggering his. Shuddering as he cums inside you, filling you to the brim with it. His blood boiling as he continues to fuck you through his high, all too happy to let it leak out of you.

His unstopping thrusts pushing more of your combined mess out around his dick with lewd squelching noises. Sheets all sticky, evidence of how messily he’d fucked you. When you mumble at him he stops thrusting into you, somewhat begrudgingly, all too willing to force you and him into overstimulation.

Instead of pulling out and placing you down, he stays seated inside you and lays on his back. Leaving you laying on top of him, his arms around you again, embracing you. You’d snuggle into him more but you’re still not sure you’re in your body, limbs all so heavy.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he sounds sheepish when he speaks into the top of your head.

You hum at him in disagreement, “Was good.”

Pressing a kiss to your temple, he asks, “Want to get cleaned up?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a bit, I don’t think I can move yet…” your eyes feel tired, “…Or today.” It feels like he grows warmer at your comment and you smile lazily.

Maybe he should feel more concerned over how fond of you he’s grown but as you drift off on top of him, snoozing so peacefully, he really can’t find it in himself to care.

𝐀/𝐍: i put my whole visussy into this fic ngl and i had so much more i wanted to add/do to it but it quite literally sucked motivation away from my soul. if you guys have questions about the story though you're more than welcome to ask ! i literally had SO many notes for this fic and while i don't think it's the best thing i've written i am obscenely happy to have finished it and i hope you guys like it !!! thanks for reading <333

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision ★ ⁝ my works are not to be used for AI under any circumstances

[prettiedup]

“You look good.” Ony states as he studies the false lashes that sits on top of your eyelids. His tatted hand reaches out to grab your chin. Silently, he tilts your head right and then left. He slowly nods his head in approval while continuing to examine the extensions. You had mentioned getting a more dramatic set this go round, and truthfully he was a bit nervous, he thought he would have to pretend to like them. But, to his shock, the dramatic fluff fit your face perfectly.

“Thank you, baby.” You find yourself fawning at both his compliment and being under his watch. You absolutely loved having all of your boyfriend’s attention, no matter the situation.

You lean closer towards him, the two of you meet in the middle where your lips connect to. Ony never liked quick kisses. He preferred to take his time gliding his tongue into your mouth, and sucking on your tongue. You were used to his antics at this point, and decided to just let him do as he pleased.

When he finally decides that he’s had enough, he pulls away from you. His eyes dart down to your lips before trailing back up to your eyes. He gives you a knowing smile when he sees the needy look you’re giving him.

“You aight?” He asks. He lets go of your chin, and adjusts himself in the driver seat. You nod at his question. Ony smacks his teeth at that. “Words, bae.”

“I’m okay.” You confirm.

He waits until you’ve buckled your seatbelt to pull out of your lash tech’s driveway. The familiar whine from his hellcat runs through your ears before he turns the music up. He hands you his phone, in a routinely fashion you open his apple music and begin searching for a song.

You choose a song you knew for a fact the both of you enjoyed singing.

You let the song play out before turning the radio down. “Where are we going?” You ask curiously.

“Imma drop you off at the crib, ‘nd then I have some plays to go make.” He explains.

Instantly, your attitude changed. You were no longer smiling. Instead, there was a pout on your lips while you gazed at him offendedly. Your arms found their way crossed against your chest before you even realized you were doing it.

Ony glances at you out of the side of his eye. Seeing you pouting and crossing your arms makes him sigh. “Don’t start.” He warns you.

“Why can’t I come with you? You usually let me come.” You ask in irritation.

“Cause I don’t want you to. Simple.” Ony responds with a lousy shoulder shrug. The stoplight turns green and his car grumbles as he accelerates.

You had this horrible habit of accusing. In your defense, the way you looked at things is like: my boyfriend is tall, dark, and handsome. If I’m attracted to him of course other women will be also. And so you found yourself accusing him of things constantly, sometimes without even meaning to.

“A girl must be there.” The words flew out of your mouth quicker than you could stop them. Ony had told you time and time again to stop accusing him, claiming that it’s both draining and annoying. You just couldn’t help it.

“Here you go.” He sighs. Instead of giving you an answer he just turns the radio up, blasting out any chance for you to keep your accusations going.

Your arms stay folded for the remainder of the drive. You childishly look out of the window the entire time, not once sparing your boyfriend a glance.

The millisecond he puts his car in park in his designated parking spot outside your loft complex, you practically hop out of his car. You don’t purposely slam his car door, you had used more strength than you intended to truthfully. Ony didn’t play about his car. The thousands of dollars he has spent adding modifications to it only backs up his claim. You knew just from that action you were going to be in deeper trouble.

The sound of your pink tory burch sandals clacking against the pavement, your numerous bracelets hitting against each other played in your ears as you tried to collect your thoughts. You didn’t hear his heavy footsteps trailing behind you which is both a good and bad thing.

You’re in the elevator when your phone lights up, displaying your lover’s contact. Your heart thumps in your chest a little faster as you contemplate answering it. With a shaky exhale, you answer.

“Hello?” You could hear the sound of his car switching gears and the clicking of his signal stick.

“What did I tell you about slammin’ my door?” He’s composed, which only makes you more anxious.

You bite down on your lip at his question. You look around the empty elevator as you try to come up with an explanation that was good enough. You were acting childish but you just felt undeniably angry at him for not even offering you an invitation.

“You made me mad.” Your voice is lighter and apprehensive.

You could hear Ony kissing his teeth at your admission. “Why do you not understand that what I do ain’t a fuckin’ game, mama? This shit aint sparkles and rainbows. I’m mad at myself for even exposing you to this shit. This typa shit ain’t for you.” You’re his babydoll. Pink, glitter, soft scents, doe eyes, and pouty lips. Violence doesn’t fit in your criteria, it just isn’t you. How polar you two are is what drew Ony to you to begin with.

The elevator dinged and slowly opened its doors. You step out, your grip on your phone tightening as you rationalize his words. There’s a frown on your lips that you’re positive Ony would have plucked away if he was standing beside you. His explanation made sense, and deep down you knew you had no business mingling with a crowd like that. Hell, you had no business mingling with Ony.

“But, I’m grown,” You whine. “I should be able to choose where I want to go and what I want to do.” You’re putting up a weak argument against him. The both of you knew it too.

“Yeah but that ain’t you.” He reminds you. “Running the streets with me ain’t safe. And your safety is the most important thing t’me.”

You hum at his words while you bring your hello kitty printed key up to the doorknob. You still vividly remember the day Ony surprised you with it. You guys had been together for some months, and were beginning to discuss hypothetical ‘what if we lived together’ scenarios. A few days later Ony had gave you a solid black box with a light pink hello kitty key in the inside. That was the start of something incredible.

“My baby’s so stubborn.” Ony could hear the sound of the front door slamming shut. Your sandals and shuffling played through his speakers, he had told you to pick your feet up when you walked, and like always, what he said went through one ear and out the other.

“‘M notttt.” You whine.

“Yes you are. But it’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got somethin’ for that attitude you had earlier.” He promises you.

You have to pause in your tracks. Instantly, there’s throbbing in between your legs. A surge of horniness courses through your body. This is how the game between you two went. You would pick at him for something—anything, just so you could act out, and so that he could put you right back in your place.

“You don’t sound mad with me anymore though?”You frown.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not gonna set you straight for acting out like that. I’m bout to pull up tho, imma text you when I’m free. Love you, mama.”

“I love you, baby.” You say before hearing the call end.

There’s butterflies swarming in the pits of your stomach as you try to imagine what he could possibly be planning. When Ony made promises like that, he made sure to keep them. He’s a man of his word and never switches it up.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my–oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent.  The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over. 

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you. 

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering. 

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes. 

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish. 

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you. 

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met. 

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it. 

[punkshort]

A Christmas Miracle

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Years of tension after a failed hook-up attempt with Joel boil over at your office Christmas party, but not in the way you expect.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers, smut (18+ MDNI), hate sex that turns soft in the end because it's shortie writing this, fingering, unprotected piv sex, semi-public sex

WC: 4.6K

"Goddamnit, why did he show up? He hates shit like this," you grumbled to your friend, Tina, when the elevators slid open to reveal the latest batch of co-workers trickling inside the hotel ballroom your company rented out for their annual Christmas party.

Tina glanced over her shoulder, scanning the crowd of well dressed men and women before her eyes landed on the one in question.

"Who, Joel?" she smirked, turning back to you.

"Yes, Joel," you seethed. You bellied up to the bar to flag down the cute bartender for another martini. If you had to listen to Joel share horrible stories about his latest conquests, sales or otherwise, then you had to make sure you had a decent amount of alcohol in your system first.

"Oh, come off it. Why don't you just fuck him already and get it over with?" Tina joked. You gasped in disgust and covered your mouth.

"Do not even joke about that. Who knows what kind of diseases that sleaze-bag is carrying around."

Tina tossed her head back and laughed, the sound dancing in the air like music. She was one of the prettiest women in your office, but much to everyone's chagrin, she was recently married and officially off the market. But that didn't stop the men in your office from harmlessly flirting with her now and again for the ego boost.

"Nah, he's all talk," Tina said with a wave of her hand.

"Not true - Lainey in the mailroom slept with him two years ago, remember that fiasco?" you shot back instantly before taking a grateful sip from your glass. Tina raised a suspicious eyebrow at you and propped one hand on her hip.

"You're keeping track?"

"No," you replied defensively. You rolled a shoulder and shifted your weight before taking another sip. "I just remember her crying over it every chance she got. Couldn't eat lunch in peace for weeks."

"Uh huh, sure," Tina said, rolling her eyes. She scanned the room again, hips lightly swaying to the music while you sat next to her, determined to have a miserable night. "Didn't you guys kiss once, though?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut. "Don't remind me. Worst mistake of my life. Thank god I didn't fall for his shit and go home with him."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because believe it or not, I had standards," you clipped. "I didn't want to sleep with him after a sloppy office happy hour. I wasn't dumb enough to put out the first time we kissed."

"Alright, so if you were into him enough to kiss him and potentially see him again, what the hell happened?" Tina pressed. You sighed and let your chin rest in your propped up hand. Tina hadn't worked at your company as long as you and sometimes it was easy to forget she didn't know the full history.

"He took someone else home from the office that night, instead," you muttered under your breath. Tina whistled and shook her head.

"Damn. Alright, dick move, you win."

"Told you. Ever since then, I can't stand being in the same room with him. He's such a smug douchebag, always trying to push my buttons and piss me off just for the fun of it. Like the whole thing was a game to him."

"But it wasn't a game to you," Tina said, slowly connecting the dots. You nodded sadly and took a long sip from your glass.

"Nope."

Tina's expression softened when she saw the look on your face. "I'm sorry. I had no idea-"

"It's fine," you said, cutting her off. "I'm better off. It didn't mean anything, anyway. It was just one kiss," you chuckled, trying to play off the hurt you still harbored somewhere deep down.

"But still-"

"Evenin', ladies," a familiar drawl came from somewhere behind Tina. You didn't need to look. You knew who it was.

"Oh," Tina said when she swiveled around and saw Joel standing against the bar. "Hey, Joel."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and adjusted his tacky red tie.

"Apologies. My reputation seems to have preceded me," he said, glancing once in your direction before giving her a dazzling smile and stretching out his hand. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Tina, and give it a rest, I'm married," she said, holding up her left hand with her massive diamond while shaking his hand with her right.

"That's a damn shame," Joel said with a flirty smile. You rolled your eyes and tossed back the rest of your drink but it didn't matter. You were essentially invisible. "He must be one lucky fella. He treatin' you right?"

"Fantastic," Tina replied, pulling her hand out from his grip before turning to you. "I need to use the restroom," she murmured. You stood to follow her but Joel stopped you.

"How 'bout you? You seein' anyone special?"

You huffed and shook your head. "Kiss my ass."

Joel howled with laughter before sliding onto the stool Tina vacated.

"If I recall, few years back I was willin' to do that and more, but you shot me down."

"Yeah, thank Christ for that moment of clarity," you grumbled. You swept your eyes around the room, pretending to lose interest in the man sitting beside you, but unfortunately you couldn't bring yourself to get up and just fucking leave.

Joel held up two fingers, signaling for the bartender in a frustratingly effortless way that set your teeth on edge and had your thighs pressing together.

"Whiskey, neat. And-"

Joel turned to you, waiting for your drink order, but you shook your head.

"I'm good."

"Shot of tequila," Joel told the bartender with an award winning smile.

You glared at Joel as the bartender walked away.

"Tequila? Really?"

Joel chuckled and swiveled in his stool to face you. "You thought I forgot what loosened you up that night?"

"You're a pig," you snapped, and you should have grabbed your purse and left, but your feet refused to move. "You're a pompous asshole who doesn't give a damn about anybody's feelings so long as you're getting your dick wet. I can't fucking stand hearing you walk around the office gloating like you're hot shit. Tell me, Joel," you said, leaning forward now that you were on a roll. "When you go home to your empty apartment at night, who listens to your bullshit? Hm? The fucking plants?"

Joel didn't say a word but you could tell by the look on his face that he was taken aback. For once you had the upper hand, and you weren't going to let it go.

"Enjoy this schtick while it lasts because one day you're gonna wake up and it'll be a thing of the past. One day, they'll hire a new Joel. Someone younger and hotter and probably nicer than you and suddenly you'll be all alone wondering where the fucking time went."

"You got a real mouth on you, huh?" he shot back. "Think you know a goddamn thing 'bout me? You got no fuckin' clue, sweetheart. But maybe if you gave me half a chance all them years ago, you'd know a thing or two."

You laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm as the bartender placed his whiskey and tequila in front of him.

"What are you saying? Do you even hear yourself?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He scowled and took a long sip from his whiskey. "How the hell would I ever have known anything about you, Joel? Can't learn much about a person after a few drunken hours and a half-assed attempt at foreplay because let's face it - that's all you're willing to offer anyone."

As a last second attempt at a power move, you grabbed the tequila and tossed it back with a wince before slamming the glass onto the wooden bar top and grabbing your purse.

"Thanks for the drink. It's been lovely catching up," you sneered, then finally forced yourself to leave his orbit before you lost yourself completely.

You slid through the crowds of people mingling and laughing in the ballroom, eyes darting this way and that as you tried to either find Tina or the nearest exit. When you eyes began to blur with unshed tears and you were about to resign yourself to crying in the middle of your fucking office Christmas party, you felt a strong hand wrap around your bicep.

"C'mon, this way," Joel's deep voice murmured before hauling you in a completely opposite direction.

For some unknown reason, you let him lead you from the packed ballroom towards the stairs. It was quieter, the sound from the Christmas music dulled against the walls, the only people around to hear it were you.

"We need to set some shit straight, once and for all," Joel said when he pulled you into an empty hallway. From the looks of it, it was an area meant for the hotel staff. One door was labeled laundry and the other maintenance. The elevator bank was right there. You could have easily tapped the button and left, but instead you crossed your arms and defiantly scowled up at him.

"Yeah? This should be good," you told him. He growled under his breath and you had to stifle the primal reaction the sound caused between your legs.

"That night... the happy hour. When we... y'know..." he trailed off and you sighed dramatically.

"Yes, Joel. Unfortunately I remember."

"I didn't go home with anyone else," he said. You blinked, unsure if it was the alcohol or if you were truly losing your mind. Did he really just say what you thought he said?

"What?" you whispered.

Joel shrugged. "I didn't. I might've spread that rumor 'cause my feelin's were hurt but I didn't go home with anyone else. I only wanted you."

"Me?" you sputtered.

"Yeah, you," Joel repeated, annoyance lacing his voice. "You'd been drivin' me crazy for fuckin' months. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Ask Harris, he'd tell you. I talked 'bout you non-fuckin'-stop. Then that night, I got 'nough liquid courage in me to make a move and, well..."

He trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You shot me down. Ruined all the confidence I had 'n left me heartbroken."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you said. "I didn't want to sleep with you that night and you took that to mean I wasn't interested in you? At all? Did it ever occur to you some women don't sleep with men the very first night they're shown a little attention?"

"Did it ever occur to you I wasn't tryin' to sleep with you that night?" he shot back.

"Oh, please!" you exclaimed with a dry laugh. "'Lemme walk you home, baby,' and, 'my place ain't too far from here'." You snorted and shook your head in disbelief. "Don't try to rewrite history. I was tipsy but I fucking remember."

"I was worried 'bout you!" he practically shouted in despair. "You'd been drinkin' and I wanted to make sure you were safe! Goddamnit, I didn't expect you to freak out 'n fuckin' shove me in front of the whole damn bar!"

The more Joel talked, the more the pieces began to slide into place. Maybe you did misread his intentions that night.

"W-well... y-you still continued to sleep around with the entire office," you stammered, gathering yourself again and shaking off his bombshell. "You had sex with Lainey from the mailroom and god knows who else! You might not have gone home with someone that night, but who cares? It's obvious you were just looking for a quick fuck."

"There's that fuckin' mouth again," he grumbled angrily. "Yeah, alright. Fine! I slept with a few women but Jesus fuckin' Christ, what'd you expect me to do? You clearly had zero goddamn interest in me. I couldn't sit 'round and be miserable forever."

"I never said I had zero interest in you!" you exclaimed before you had a chance to catch yourself. But your admission was out there. It was too late, and Joel's eyes darted up to yours in surprise.

"What's that mean? You... liked me?"

"What is this, high school?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. When he just continued to stare at you, anxiously waiting for you to answer, you sighed and dropped your arms to your sides in defeat. "Yeah, fine. I like you."

"Wait, wait, wait," Joel said excitedly. "Like or liked?"

"Oh, my god!" you cried out before turning on your heel to storm back down the stairs towards the party. "I'm not doing this with you! I'm fucking not-"

In the blink of an eye, Joel snatched your arm and twisted you back around to crash against his chest. You gasped right before his other hand cupped your cheek and pulled you in for a deep kiss.

For one blissful moment, you let yourself forget it all. You forgot all the anguish you felt when you heard about Joel's latest conquests. You forgot about the way it felt watching him breeze around the office without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the way he hurt you. And you definitely forgot about the way you turned down a perfectly good date just two weeks prior because he wasn't what you were searching for and you fucking knew why.

"I'm not some cheap, quick fuck," you panted when you pulled away for air. Joel had managed to turn you so your back bumped up against the wall. Your eyes slid shut and a soft moan escaped from your lips when he began to drag his mouth down the column of your throat.

"We can go fast or slow, whatever you want," he mumbled into your skin. Your hand connected blindly with his shoulder and gave him a forceful shove, making him chuckle. "I know what you meant. I don't want that, either," he said before straightening up so he could look at you. "I don't want this to be a one time thing. Never did. That's what I've been tryin' to say."

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to come up with a response. The way things had changed so quickly left you scrambling to keep up, and although you couldn't deny the reaction your body was having to Joel crowding you aggressively against the wall, your mind couldn't give in as easily.

"I can't stand you," you growled before pulling him back down to your level. Your mouth crashed hungrily against his, chasing the taste of peppermint and whiskey on his tongue. You were so lost in the feeling of his surprisingly soft lips pressed against yours that you hardly noticed when his hand skated down your side. With a muffled yelp, he yanked you off your feet, using his broad body to pin you against the wall while his hand began to travel up the skirt of your dress. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your legs curled around his waist so you didn't fall.

"Fuck," Joel groaned when his fingers brushed against where your underwear should have been had you not chosen to forgo them for the evening. You smirked against his mouth and grabbed roughly at his hair.

"Didn't want panty lines," you breathlessly explained.

"Yeah, can't have that," he murmured right before plunging his tongue back inside your mouth. At the same, his thumb grazed over the slit of your cunt, pulling a moan from you both.

"You like yellin' at me, huh? That why you're already this wet, baby?" he purred, nipping at your earlobe while his middle finger teasingly probed at your entrance. You dropped your head back against the wall with a thud, hips chasing his hand, eager for more.

"Shut up," you whispered, then gasped when he finally slid one long, thick finger inside you. Joel chuckled against your neck, curling his finger inside your tight heat every time he dove back in. Your chin was tilted towards the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as he slid a second finger inside with ease. You were vaguely aware of your compromising position, knowing full well anybody could turn the corner or exit one of the rooms at any moment, but neither of you cared.

"Ohmygod, fuck! Keep going," you begged, rolling your hips as best you could with your legs wrapped around his waist. The palm of his hand began to slap steadily against your clit each time he thrusted his fingers into you, driving you to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

"How 'bout you talk a little sweeter to me if you want it so bad?" Joel countered, yet his hand never stopped between your legs. He pulled away from your neck to watch your face contort with pleasure, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, you saw the flush in his cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You smirked amidst your gasps for air and rolled your hips faster.

"Why? I think you like it when I'm mean to you."

His eyes darkened a shade and his hand began to move faster, fingers curling and brushing against a spot inside you that stole your breath. His free hand was pressed against the wall next to your head for leverage, but his fingertips curled with the desire to grab you fucking anywhere.

"Least lemme hear you say my name when you come," he said through clenched teeth. And that defiant streak inside of you really didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but his skilled fingers were making short work of your resolve.

Joel got what he wanted. A few quick snaps of his hand had you loudly coming undone with his name on your lips. He laughed before shushing you and pressing his mouth tenderly against your own to keep you quiet while slowing the rhythm of his hand between your legs.

For a few minutes, you each forgot where you were and all the bullshit you were arguing about moments before. Joel kissed you so softly through your high that it had you melting against him. Your fingers were no longer tugging at his hair. Instead, you found yourself gently raking them through his dark brown curls almost affectionately while your tongues slowly danced together.

You gasped when he carefully pulled out his hand, breaking the kiss. With glassy eyes and swollen lips, you stared at one another while trying to catch your breath. It was almost too soft, especially with the way his eyes searched your face, desperately trying to figure out where things stood after what you just did. He was so fucking hard that his stomach hurt, but he couldn't tell if you wanted to take things further or if you were having regrets.

"So that's all it takes to shut you up?" he finally teased when the silence had gone on too long for his liking. You huffed and rolled your eyes before tightening your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. Joel smirked when his hips collided with yours and you felt the massive erection he had been fighting with for the past fifteen minutes.

"Hmm, no I don't think so," you breathed while allowing a hand to fall between your bodies. Your fingers brushed against the outline of his cock straining against his black dress pants and you grinned. "But maybe this will."

"Thank fuck," he groaned in relief. His breath instantly grew more shallow at the mere prospect of feeling you wrapped around his cock, but when you nimbly undid his pants and pulled out his throbbing length, his chest was practically heaving with anticipation.

"Easy," you murmured when he leaned forward, sinking his teeth into a sensitive spot on your neck. You relished in the way you managed to make him so weak with just a few strokes of his cock. His entire body had pushed forward, chasing your hand. You felt short of breath from the pressure of his body pinning you against the wall but you didn't make him move. You liked the feeling of his broad frame caging you in far too much to make him stop.

You lined him up with your entrance and pulled your hand away, but just as he began to press forward, a squeaky door opening and closing around the corner from your hallway made you both freeze.

"Shit," you whispered. Joel locked eyes with you and quickly shook his head, signaling for you to be quiet. Both your shoulders were rising and falling fast but your mouths remained clamped shut so your heavy breathing couldn't be heard by whoever was walking down the tile floor with high heels. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face when the footsteps sounded moments away from turning the corner, then by some miracle they stopped in their tracks.

"Oh dear, I forgot my phone," a woman's voice said softly to herself. You both began to relax when the footsteps turned in the opposite direction and finally disappeared all together.

"Jesus Christ," Joel laughed shakily. You smirked and wiggled your hips, impaling yourself further on his cock.

"Better hurry up," you told him with an arched brow after his eyes locked with yours in surprise. Then a slow smile stretched across his face, positively gleeful that almost getting caught didn't change your mind. With one swift thrust, he sunk inside you the rest of the way, pleased with the way your jaw silently fell open and your head tipped back against the wall.

"You told me to hurry," he reminded you as he began to move his hips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you hung on for dear life.

"Fuck... you..." you whispered with your eyes closed and brows knit together. Joel chuckled and nipped your chin.

"Yeah, baby, that's the idea," he grunted, snapping his hips faster. "Fuck, wish we had more time. Feel so fucking good."

"I thought you'd be used to - shit - thought you'd be used to quickies by now."

Joel grabbed your chin and stilled his hips, forcing your eyes open in surprise.

"Knock it off. Told you I don't want that. Not with you."

You were surprised to hear the seriousness to his voice. You fumbled for a moment with how to react before saying, "Guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

"Yeah, you will," Joel replied. He released your chin and began to move again before he added, "I'm a lot of things, a liar ain't one of 'em."

He sounded truthful, but it was difficult to reconcile what he was saying to what you'd been hearing over the past few years. But since time was of the essence, you chose to let it go. After all, how long could it possibly take for someone to grab their phone?

"What? Got nothin' else to say?" Joel chided. You could see the flush creeping up his neck and even a little sweat beading just above his collar. The urge to drag your tongue across his tanned skin was growing impossible to ignore, so instead of answering his question, you decided to lunge forward and do just that. He groaned and began to grind into you, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit fucking perfectly.

You whimpered and buried your face against his neck, doing your best to stifle your sounds as the heat in your belly grew once again.

"Just like that," you gasped into his skin, hands grappling at the back of his neck, trying to draw him closer. "Oh, god, Joel... I'm close," you whined. It was building up too fast after your last orgasm. Your eyes began to water the harder he ground his hips and you bit down harshly on your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out.

"That's it, just let go," he whispered in your ear. The intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine. "Lemme have it. Say my name again, baby, please... I-I need it," he added, voice strained.

You lifted your chin so your lips could find the shell of his ear, moaning his name without your voice being muffled. What felt like just a second or two later, with your orgasm still rolling through you, Joel stilled and groaned softly into your shoulder, hips stuttering as he came.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he rasped as he pumped the last of his release deep into your cunt.

Panting for air, you slid your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against his. You felt his nose nudge against yours and you smiled before searching for his mouth and brushing your lips tenderly over his own.

"Look at you," Joel whispered against your mouth. "All soft 'n sweet now that you finally got fucked right."

"Do you ever stop talking?" you asked, trying to sound irritated, but the smile tugging at your mouth gave you away.

"You fuckin' love it," Joel said right before his tongue slipped past your lips with a groan.

The door around the corner opened and once again the familiar tap of high heels echoed down the hall. You sprung apart and hissed under your breath after Joel pulled out of you too fast.

"Sorry," he whispered while he tucked himself back into his pants and you adjusted the skirt of your dress.

You had just enough time to run your fingers through your hair and swipe a finger under your lip to catch any smeared lipstick when a woman neither of you recognized turned the corner.

"Oh! Good evening," she said after she slid to a halt. Joel cleared his throat and adjusted his tie before reaching for your hand.

"Evenin'... Dolly," he replied, squinting at her nametag. "My girlfriend's lookin' for the bathroom, could you point us in the right direction?"

"Of course! Sorry to say you've gotten yourself quite turned around. If you just go through those double doors there, you'll find the restrooms up the stairs and to the left."

"Thank you," you called out over your shoulder when Joel tugged you back in the direction of the ballroom. Once you were out of earshot, you dissolved into a fit of giggles, the sound making Joel grin ear to ear.

"Didn't take you for bein' such a naughty thing," he teased before holding the door open for you to step through.

"Yeah, me either," you replied with a little shake of your head. "You must be a bad influence on me."

"Care to join this bad influence for dinner tomorrow night?" he asked when he found his place back at your side. The ballroom was just on the other side of the wall. You could hear clearly now the drunken voices of your co-workers singing Christmas carols off-key.

"What, like a date?"

"Yeah," Joel said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around before you entered the room. "Like a date."

His dark eyes were sparkling as he gazed down at you. You noticed some of your lipstick had transferred under his ear and you grinned before using the pad of your thumb to swipe it away.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's do it."

Joel couldn't resist ducking down to your level for one more kiss, but it wasn't quick enough. To your left you heard a sharp gasp and you pulled apart to find Tina and two other co-workers staring at you like they just saw a ghost.

The tension was thick for a moment. Nobody knew what to say or do until finally Tina whooped and cheered before shouting, "It's a fucking Christmas miracle!"

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[queertransetc]

- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

[welty4ng]

TEAR MY WORLD APART!

call transcript; “adapting is never easy. jiaoqiu supposes he only tolerates it because you’re with him”

cw; spoilers for the current quest !!! f!reader, NSFW (mdni) !! hurt/comfort, fingering (soft sex tbh), not proofread, ugh jiaoqiu i love you so much, fic below the cut, 4.7k words

When Jiaoqiu first returns home, there’s a heavy weight in his chest.

It felt horribly uncomfortable, having Moze walk him all the way from the docks to his house. It felt even worse to have his companion fish his keys from his pockets.

In his mind’s eye, he knows where everything is. He knows where you keep your plants and how to avoid running into them; still, he tips one over, the crunch of dirt beneath his feet ringing sickeningly in his ears. He knows where every corner of his house is; yet, he hits his shoulder when he rounds a corner a little too soon.

Shamefully, it takes him longer than he’d like to find someplace to sit. He’d never thought it to be so humiliating, to realize he spent so many years seeing the layout to his own home without memorizing it.

He’s unsure for how long he sits, the silence deafening and the darkness blinding. There’s a gnawing, ever-growing pit in his stomach at the realization that this might very well be the rest of his life. A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll enjoy having his senses heightened any more than they already were.

Jiaoqiu jolts when he hears the front door open, his ears perking up. The sound of your footsteps reaches his ears before you call out his name, your voice gentler than he’s ever heard it.

“Hey,” you say, hushed. Jiaoqiu shudders when your hand finds his knee, trying to soothe him. His hands ball into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” he echoes, slightly strained. The weight in his chest grows heavier when you thumb at his knee. It’s horrifying, how he can practically picture the pity on your face — he’d never thought he’d be at the receiving end of it.

“General Feixaio told me what happened,” you whisper. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when you cup his face and he immediately nestles into your palm. Your thumb is gentle against his skin, caressing his cheek with the utmost of care. “I’m so sorry, love.”

There’s a lump in his throat, a million words on the tip of his tongue — ‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. I just need to adapt.’

All that he musters is a quiet, shaky, “I want to see you.”

Jiaoqiu wonders if you look as broken as he sounds.

Being molded into a homebody is not unideal, but Jiaoqiu has far too much to do.

He wonders if that’s why Feixiao sent Moze to inform him of the leave of absence he’d been granted.

It should be welcome. It is, to an extent, when guilt doesn’t chip away at his conscience; when he doesn’t feel like he’s a burden—

The clatter of pots makes him jump, his tail puffing up before matting back down. He exhales, low and unsteady as you call out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he can complain. Not when you’ve carved out time from your schedule to look after him — to help him adjust, or whatever bullshit Moze claimed Feixiao had said. So he’ll endure the ringing in his ears when something is just a little too loud, endure the tangy, bitter smell of something burning, and offer a patient smile, followed by a soft, “It’s okay.”

Because he knows you’re trying.

Cooking was never your thing. He’d never let it be, because, why would he ever let you dirty your hands when he could do it instead?

Part of himself feels guilty that you’ve been forced into a myriad of things that fell under his attention. It’s an ever-growing sense of uselessness that weighs on his chest, burrowing deeper with every ‘tap’ of the knife on the cutting board.

He presses his back against the wall, trying to suppress the familiar urge to take over the cooking for you. A knot forms in his throat when he hears you softly hiss, his eyes yearning to open and treat whatever wound you must’ve gotten.

When a soft rush of water reaches his ears, he inches off the wall just enough, taking a step toward the noise. It feels slightly disorienting, trying to guide himself simply through hearing. Still, he tries, awkwardly stumbling in your direction with an outstretched hand.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when he touches your shoulder, his tail awkwardly flicking to the side when you jolt at the contact.

“Let me help,” he whispers, his fingers instinctively squeezing your shoulder. There’s something so horrid about being able to hear your breaths before you even speak. He loathes how clear he can hear your breath falter as you hesitate.

“Jiaoqiu, you—”

“Please.” He’s tired of feeling useless. He has enough to deal with, now that his eyesight is gone indefinitely. He wants to help — to be of use, even if it’s just a little.

The weight in his stomach sinks deeper when you gingerly clutch his wrist. For a moment, he expects you to drop his hand and lead him back to the spot on the wall he’s claimed as his own. Instead, you bring his hand up to your face, letting his knuckles brush against your skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you murmur, gentle as you press a kiss to the back of his hand. Jiaoqiu wonders what expression you’re making; wonders if it’s pity or sympathy.

He takes a step closer, his front bumping against yours before his free hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the counter for balance. “Let me do something, at least,” he pleads, a vague hint of desperation lacing his words.

Your breaths fan his face, tickling his skin in a way that has his tail swaying.

“Please,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance before you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Jiaoqiu’s heart hammers in his chest, a ticklish sort of hope flooding his being. His hand trembles against your face, softly squeezing your own when you grasp it.

“Anything,” he breathes out. “It doesn’t have to be cooking or cleaning or — just let me do anything.”

When your grip on his hand falters, he grasps it tighter, resting them on your cheek. The smell of something burnt fills his senses, but he can’t find it in himself to care; not when he can feel the faint warmth of your skin. “I want to be of use to you.”

His ears twitch when you sigh, his hand trembling lightly against your face. He can imagine the expression you’re making — pursed lips and furrowed brows, deep in thought. Still, he yearns to see it.

“You can help me stir the pot,” you offer, a hint of hesitance to your voice.

The weight in his chest lightens just a little, his fingers tightening around your own in a light squeeze. “Alright.”

It’s a shred of normalcy, he supposes; even if he’s just swirling a ladle. For a moment, it reminds him of a simpler time, back when he was younger and still learning to fend for himself. The soft ‘tap’ of the knife against the cutting board fills his ears, accompanied by your faint humming.

Will you let him keep helping you? Jiaoqiu can’t help but wonder. Would you let him stop being a burden? Do you even think of him as a burden? He hopes — prays — you don’t. He hopes you let him stay by your side, even if all he can do is rot.

It’s all he wants.

So, when you lead him to your dining table, trying to distract him from the scent of burnt meat, he’ll entertain you. He’ll keep his complaints to himself, even if the soup is far too salty; the noodles are a little too undercooked; and the cubed beef is a bit too charred.

You’re both trying, he reminds himself. Perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in himself to care much when he can hear the ‘snap’ of a noodle between his molars. There’s a slight tingle in his tongue by the time he’s done eating.

Still, Jiaoqiu doesn’t complain. Instead, he smiles, softening when your hand grasps his own beneath the table, squeezing twice in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hushed. When your breath hitches, a lump forms in his chest. Quickly, he adds, “For everything.”

For a moment, he supposes the only good thing about being blind is that he doesn’t have to see you cry. Though, he supposes it’s worse, hearing you hold back from it — hearing you struggle to remain composed.

When he opens his arms, you rush into him, leaving your chair behind and opting to perch in his lap — just like you’d always done. He holds you closer, instinctively; though, he rubs at your back with hesitance, almost trying to map out the length of your back.

He shudders when you wet the side of his neck. It feels more present, now that his world is shrouded in pitch black. Your cries sound louder, even when quiet and muffled by his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Jiaoqiu’s unsure if the apology is his or yours, the weight growing tenfold in his chest and ringing in his ears.

He can’t tell if the sobs are still yours, either.

Jiaoqiu learns to rise when you do. His routine morphs into your own, despite your insistence that he rest longer.

Staying in bed doesn’t feel the same without you, he’d argued. You were quick to relent after that.

His feet drag on the floor behind yours, his grip tight around the back of your nightshirt. There’s a dull ache in his head. He bumps into you when you stop, a quick apology tumbling from his lips before he can stop it.

When the sound of rushing water reaches his ears, they twitch, recognizing the familiarity. His hands perch on the edge of the counter, letting go of your clothes. It never takes long for him to hear the soft rustle of fabric falling onto the floor. It never takes long for him to fumble with his buttons, either, before you come to his aid.

“Will you help me wash my hair again?” he asks, quiet as you ease the fabric off his shoulders.

“If you want me to,” you reply, gentle as you help him out of his pants. When your fingers brush against his lower abdomen, he shivers, his tail puffing up as he sucks in a sharp inhale.

Jiaoqiu’s hand leaves the counter, moving to cup your cheek in a practiced (albeit clumsy) movement. Part of himself still feels like a fumbling fool when you move his hand just a little lower, correcting the placement. Still, you never mention it.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he should reject your offer for help — tells him he’s been more than enough of a burden by making you spend more time ensuring he’s clean than you do yourself. Then, a gentler, kinder voice reminds him you’d expressed your satisfaction at being able to aid him. Pride never stands a chance, when it comes to your delight; he realized this soon after meeting you.

So, he lets his finger brush against the apple of your cheek, his voice softening as he says, “I do.”

It’s become almost instinctive, following you. There’s always a certain gentleness with which you hold his hands, guiding him forward as you step into the shower. He hears the quiet scuff of a stool (your insistence, not his) being dragged across the tiles. Your hands remain gentle as you guide him to sit.

“Tell me if I scrub too hard, okay?” The statement is almost unnecessary, truly. You’ve never once treated him with something other than overwhelming delicateness — like he’s made of porcelain. Jiaoqiu considered himself tough, before losing his eyesight. He thinks that shell was stripped from him alongside his vision. He wonders if you know it, too — wonders if that’s why you touch him like he’s seconds away from breaking beneath your touch.

Still, all he says is, “Okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thank you.”

A lump forms in his throat at the beat of silence, his heart hammering in his chest. Aeons, he wants to see your expression — he needs it so desperately. It’s become hard to tell whether he says the right thing or not. Sometimes, he wonders if he oversteps. There are a million words at the tip of his tongue, all of them longing to spill out.

Something soft presses against his forehead, gentle and so, so soft. Two hands cup his jaw, holding him in place before drawing him in. His arms wrap around your middle almost instinctively, his face burrowing into your chest.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, his words muffled by your skin.

Your lips press against the top of his head, tender. Jiaoqiu melts when you cup the back of his head, holding him in place. He wonders if you realize how soothing your heartbeat is to him, currently. Your fingers weave through peachy strands, washing out the shampoo suds from his hair.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

A soft noise rumbles in the back of his throat, his ears twitching and tickling your skin. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head one last time.

For a moment, something akin to hope blossoms in his chest. It’s the first time he’s felt it, since losing his vision, Jiaoqiu notes.

Normal still feels out of place, though not as much anymore. It’s become a faint, lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

There’s still a vague sense of discomfort at being surrounded by darkness constantly. Jiaoqiu supposes it’s only through the habit of touching that he reminds himself he’s not alone.

He’s only grateful you indulge him, even if it must be a bother to have him hovering and pestering just to stick to you.

The streets of the Yaoqing — have they ever been this noisy? Jiaoqiu can’t tell. It’s uncomfortable, how loudly everything rings in his ears. He thinks he would rather trade the boisterous noise for the bright, vivid colors he used to complain about.

“We’ll head home soon,” you reassure, squeezing his hand as tight as you can. For a moment, he wonders if his distress is palpable (he concludes that, for you, it must be).

“You shouldn’t rush,” he replies, his words trailing off into a quick apology when someone bumps into his shoulder. His hand squeezes yours — the mere thought of separating from you makes his heartbeat spike in anxiety. Jiaoqiu softly clears his throat, quickly adding, “I’m fine, really.”

Neither of you seem to believe it, though you don’t call him out on the lie. Instead, you slow your pace even more to loop your arm with his.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling him just a little closer to you as you walk, “We could get the ingredients for those noodles you like.”

Jiaoqiu hums, trying to ignore the way the corners of his lips curl up. “That would be nice,” he says, trying to keep his steps matched to yours.

“You could help me make them,” you offer, gently tugging him closer before someone brushes against his arm.

His steps falter for a moment. When he takes a second too long to reply, you rush to add, “Only if you want to.”

A lump forms in his throat, agreement sitting on the tip of his tongue. All he does is exhale. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering loud in his ears. You’re looking at him — he doesn’t need his vision to tell. A hushed, barely audible whisper leaves his lips when you call his name.

“Is it still too soon?” you ask, a hint of worry in your voice. Your hold on him tightens just a little. “I-I figured, maybe it had been long enough to try and ease you back into things you used to do. We can just pretend I didn’t say any—”

“I want to,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice wavering. He isn’t sure when his breath picked up, but he can feel his chest heaving. His tail lightly sways when you place your hand above his own, thumbing at his knuckles.

“Okay.” Your voice feels as soft as your touch. It tickles his nerves, sending a flutter through the pit of his stomach and down to his core.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours (a jolt of satisfaction in his chest at the lack of clumsiness). His ears twitch when the pad of your thumb lightly presses into his knuckle. 

“Okay,” he echoes, trying to match your tone. Jiaoqiu softens, gently rubbing his forehead against your own.

Warmth blooms in his chest when you whisper. The market’s ruckus feels like white noise as your words ring in his ears. Like instinct, his lips part before replying in earnest. “I love you, too.”

He wonders if it’s your face that’s burning up, or if it’s his.

It pains him a little, just how long it’s taken him to ask this of you.

Jiaoqiu feels you shift beneath him, adjusting your position before wrapping your legs around his waist again. He softly exhales, tracing the slope of your cheek with the utmost of care. His heart hammers away in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, breathless as he pokes at the fat of your cheek. When you sigh, he lets himself cup your face, the pad of his thumb lightly pressing into the hollow beneath your eye.

“How much longer are you going to do this for?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice. Jiaoqiu softens, his tail swaying when you lean into his touch.

“Until I’m sure I’ve memorized everything.”

“I thought you already knew my face by heart?” you reply. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he hears yours. He gently pinches your cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I do,” he says, loud enough so it’s meant for your ears only. “I just want to make sure I know it, deep in my soul.”

A soft hum leaves his lips when you squeeze his waist. His hand moves, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear.

“How smooth,” you mumble, brushing a few peachy strands away from his face.

“I want to make sure it’s all like I remember,” he murmurs, complying when you pull him up with your legs. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when his nose bumps against yours, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips.

His hand trails down, his thumb brushing your lower lip. When you gently kiss the digit, his breath hitches. He cups your jaw, trying to find an angle. You simply follow his lead, letting him lead.

He thumbs at the corner of your lips, your breath fanning against his skin. His mouth presses against yours in the softest — faintest — of kisses. When you sigh, he lets himself mold against you. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, his tail swaying when you grant him access.

There’s a hint of desperation behind his actions. Jiaoqiu wonders if you can tell, by the way his tongue licks at your mouth — almost like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste.

He barely gives you any reprieve, breaking the kiss to catch the slightest of breaths before he’s attached to your lips once more. When his name leaves your lips between kisses, heat pools in his stomach. It’s a feeling he’d thought dormant since he’d lost his sight.

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he’d mind its resurgence — not after the way you part with a whined gasp, struggling to catch your breath. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, then lower, until he’s kissing a trail down to the spot beneath your jaw.

When you struggle to hold back a moan, heat shoots through his veins. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingers tangling in peachy strands. He complies when you help him up, cupping his face before capturing his lips with your own.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu wonders if you taste sweeter than he remembers.

“Guide me.”

“Hm?”

A soft, huffed chuckle escapes Jiaoqiu’s lips. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb applying a delicate pressure beneath your eye. He feels you shift on the bed, your legs tangling with his own.

“Guide me,” he repeats, his ears twitching when you yawn. A gentle noise rumbles in his chest, his body pressing closer to yours and his hand moving lower to let his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. Then, he leans down, his lips replacing the digit.

Heat pools in his stomach at the sigh you let out. His tail lightly sways, the ends puffing out when he nips at your lower lip. “You’ve been patient for long enough,” he murmurs, gently ghosting a kiss over your lips.

“Jiaoqiu—”

“No excuses,” he says, “Please.”

After a light kiss, he adds, “Let me do this for you.”

For a moment, he wonders if it’s your heartbeat he hears, instead of his own. He lets his hand leave your face to rest on the underside of your breast, relishing how your breaths stutter.

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jiaoqiu reasons, his voice tender as he moves his face closer to the crook of your neck. “I ought to express my gratitude,” he whispers, noting how you shudder as his breath tickles your skin. He presses his lips against the underside of your jaw — right at the spot he knows makes your breath hitch and your thighs clench. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do anything with the intention of getting something in return,” you say. He catches on to the quiver to your tone when his ears twitch. His teeth graze your jaw, soft and experimental as he thumbs at the lower part of your breast.

“Isn’t that reason enough to accept my gratitude with open arms, then?”

You shudder, your hand moving to perch on his shoulder when he trails kisses down to your collarbone. “We both know what your gratitude entails, Jiaoqiu.”

He softly clicks his tongue, letting his canines graze against your skin. The hand on your chest inches upward, moving until his thumb reaches your pert nipple. “Even more reason for you to accept, hm?”

His touch softens when you sigh.

“Isn’t it a little too soon—?”

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” Jiaoqiu mumbles. He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. 

There’s a slight hesitance to your actions — how you seem to mull over his words. His tail sways, lightly rubbing against the bedsheets as your fingers run through his locks.

“Still, I—” your breath catches, your words interrupted by a wanton whine when delicately rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

Heat shoots through his nerves, fueling the fire in his stomach as he pictures your expression — your face all scrunched up, but your lips parted as you pant. Jiaoqiu slows the barrage of kisses on your skin, softy exhaling.

He wants to see it, so, so desperately.

He wants to feel and touch and see. His ears twitch when you sigh his name, breathless. A soft growl rumbles in his chest in response before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads. “You shouldn’t have to suppress your own needs for my own.”

“I’m not—”

Jiaoqiu nips at your collarbone to cut off your words, his tongue gently soothing the spot. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your skin. “Not when I hear clearer than I ever could.”

Your grip on his hair falters, your breath hitching. He wonders what expression you wear — are you flustered or taken aback? Or is it something entirely different? 

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t touch you like I used to,” he breathes out, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers. You tug on his hair, your breaths uneven. His lips trail kisses along the expanse of your collarbone. “You just need to guide me.”

His fingers leave your nipple, drawing a soft whine from your lips as he trails them down to your hip.

“It’s about time you replace your fingers with my own, after all,” he rasps, kissing a path back up to your jaw, “Isn’t it?”

His ears twitch when a strained whimper slips past your lips. He nips at your skin before pressing a feather-light kiss on the spot. Heat floods the pit of his stomach when you nod against his head, your hand resting atop the one on your hip.

“You’ve been more than patient, love,” Jiaoqiu whispers, his tail twitching against the sheets as you help his hand down between your thighs. He shudders an exhale, his fingers inquisitive as they search for your clit. His breaths become heavy, fanning against your jaw in a way so ticklish that your thighs instinctively press together.

A choked whine leaves your lips, your fingers curling in his hair. “‘s n-nothing,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

He gently clicks his tongue, his thumb pressing against you once he finds your bud. “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he replies, rubbing his nose along your jaw as he begins to circle your clit. “It’s never easy to care for a patient.”

You mewl, lightly jolting when his index finger prods around in search of your entrance. “W-wait,” you stammer, your hand moving to aid his own. His tail thumps faintly against the bed when his fingertips ghost above your folds.

“Here we go,” he whispers, unable to keep the elation from his voice. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve realized the selfish intentions behind his idea to thank you.

Though, he’s sure that even if you have, you probably don’t mind. Jiaoqiu knows how tired you must be from fingering yourself in his stead. Your fingers were never as good as his at bringing you pleasure, after all.

The corners of his lips curl up into a small smirk, his finger pumping in and out of you with practiced ease. “That’s nice, isn’t it, love?” he asks, his voice a soft coo.

“M-mhm,” you shakily hum, slowly rocking your hips against his digit to match his pace.

“Your sweet cunt just needed my fingers, didn’t it?”

He can’t hold back the purr in the back of his throat when you nod, your fingers fisting his peachy strands when he pushes a second finger into your folds.

“N-needed them s-so bad—!” you cry, your voice cracking. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, your breath quick and uneven pants. “‘s never the same when t-they’re mine…”

Jiaoqiu gently shushes you, peppering kisses against the underside of your jaw. “I know, love,” he coos, his voice full of sympathy. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

You moan, your breath hitching as your walls flutter around his fingers. When they curl, you cry, your hips desperately rocking against his hand. “J-Jiaoqiu—”

“Close already?” he asks, though he fails to hide the smile from his voice. You huff and he chuckles, a sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. How long has it been since he’s felt that — felt anything other than a weight in his chest?

Jiaoqiu can’t be bothered to wonder. Not when your cunt spasms around his fingers, your broken cries and moans rising in volume the more he curls his digits against the spongy spot in your folds.

“That’s it, love,” he breathes out, his voice a heavy rasp. “Let go for me.”

When you cry, he can only picture the expression on your face — can only imagine you look just like you’ve always done when you cum. His chest aches for just a moment, then lightens when you mewl his name.

“T-thank you,” you whisper, your words slightly slurred. Jiaoqiu softens when you kiss the top of his head. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies, hushed. He nuzzles into you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. His chest rises and falls, weightless for the first time in weeks. “For everything.”

[nastyc2nt]

Hi angle. Sweetie I read that your request were open? 👀 Would you mind if I asked for perhaps a Lucerys x littlesister!reader ? Something with like Luke being a yandere and little sister reader not realising it and just being all wrapped around his fingers cause he's her older brother that she just admire and love so much? And she just cockwarm him and let him fuck her all the time ? 👀

(If you don't feel comfortable writing it I understand completely!!)

˚⟡˖ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆ Naive Girl ˚⟡˖ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆

╰┈➤ Yan!Lucerys Velaryon x Sis!Reader

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

╰┈➤ Warnings: cockwarming, yandere behavior, naive!reader, smut, Inc3st, jace joining In because I can’t help it.

╰┈➤ Words: 0.9k

╰┈➤ I couldn’t restrain myself from added jace- apologies.

“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” those words always slipping from his lips.

It’s been years since Luke has been straight forward with what he wanted, from hand holding and kissing to using you like his own personal toy. You’re the definition of beauty to him, in every way imaginable. Kind natured, gentle and soft and most importantly innocent and naive. There’s nothing that turns him on more then seeing your eyes plead up at him, glossy with tears and a trusting gaze.

He’s only recently started to fuck you— He snapped once he couldn’t wait to touch himself. You’d be in your room with him one night, reading to yourself while he’s by your side and playing with strands of hair below your shoulders. Then on thing led to another and your on top of his lap, thin silky dress wrinkled up to expose your bare skin so he can trace his hands over.

“Luke,” you whispered against his lips. Your body started to stir around to find something — you didn’t know what it was. Inside you felt odd, hot and sweaty with a tightening grip in your low range. “I feel weird.” you admitted

Luke is there to teach you everything your mother tried to hide from you, her only daughter wasn’t to be corrupted by the world. Or, so she thought. Of course he did his job as to explain what was happening and gave you a opportunity to leave but you were too needy to figure out how to stop the growing pain.

“You like this?” his teeth nipped at your ear while you rested against his chest. Back facing him, legs spread apart while your dress was tossed somewhere on the floor. “Tell me how it feels.” He demanded. Thicker fingers entered your pussy making you sound wet and squishy, you’re practically leaking onto the sheets and your own thighs. Luke was a nice guy, so he started off slow for you.

You started to whine while keeping a hand clasped over your mouth. He told you this was only for him and you to share, what every brother and sister do but can’t let others see. It wasn’t wrong, no, the gods wanted you to do it. “Good, s’good.” The words hanged on your tongue sweet and honeyed while moans kept pouring out.

That’s how it started, him fingering you when you’d give him those cute puppy eyes. He just couldn’t resist so he did it everywhere— anywhere. In the halls away from prying eyes of course, fucking you with his fingers or eating you out; messy and sloppy. The thing about Luke is that he loves your taste and can’t get enough.

He has you doing everything under the sun together, even visiting brothals to get new ideas. He once threatened a woman to cut off her hands if she touched him.

“Sit still,” he cursed when he felt you shift onto his lap, your dress up in the back but kept down in the front to make it look like nothing was happening. He was studying the history of his title and wanted you to keep him company, and what better way then to sit on his cock like a good girl and stay still?

“Sorry, can’t help it,” it was pathetic how small you sounded. You never could say no, always wanted to please him for his pleasure and yours. It was your job to take care of him and make sure he stays happy and healthy!! Because if you didn’t, he could start to hurt with all his cum staying inside…Luke had told you a horrible story of what could happen if you didn’t give yourself to him.

“Be a good sister and stay still,” you tried not to whine but you couldn’t help it, there was only so much you could take. He felt how tight you clinger to his cock, how warm and heated your insides were, how fucking soaked you are. It was torture for him, as well as you as he held himself back from fucking you into the table.

Until he caved, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning you further back into him and began to thrush into your warm heat. It was a library and it was easy to get caught if you were being too loud. Your big brother wanted to get caught deep inside you, he wanted everyone to know that you’re going to be his bride one day.

That only his cock can make you cum.

It was no guard that caught the sight. No maester, not a servant or a maid, not even another lord. But a familiar man with dark curls and pale skin, one that matched Luke’s. His hand rested upon his sword and lips on a smirk when you caught his gaze.

You tried to tell Luke to stop but he just turned his head, no interest in stopping. “Leave us, brother. Can’t you see I’m busy.” Jace didn’t care for being told to leave.

So he walked closer until he was at your side, right next to the chair and laid his hands on your chin. His hold tight and forceful, yanking you to look up at him, with those sweet teary eyes. “Didn’t know you could be filthy, let him fuck you with no engagement.” Luke huffed in question as you moan and bounce with each thrust.

“If I had know you like getting fucked by your brothers cock, i would have been quicker to join.” His hand took ahold of yours before placing it on the tent of his pants were the hardened member poked out.

Jace looked over at his younger brother, “mind I have a turn?”

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

[zorosangell]

I’d love to see your take on this! maybe reader has been with zoro since they where both children. She’s a little weak and whiny and naggy and clumsy but zoro has always dragged her around to where he goes despite that. Even when zoro left the village to pursue his dream of being the greatest swordsman, he threw her over his shoulder and dragged her with him.

our dilemma is, reader think zoro sees her as a little sister. but he’s her dream and everything more. She feels as if she’s always held him back. I mean, she can’t fight. She doesn’t have any special powers. All she’s good for is shinning his swords and patching up his clothes and nagging him about taking a shower more than once a week. When luffy offers zoro a spot on his newly formed crew, he joins, but she declines. And she’s adamant about it. I’d love to see how zoro convinces her, and how he realizes that he needs to tell her just how much he needs her.

⛥ﾟ・。 inn

synopsis: you'd known zoro nearly all your life—having grown up with the swordsman in his home village—and considered him the most important person in your life... so, after luffy saves you both from the execution yard and invites you to join his crew, you can't help but feel like your lack of strength will end up becoming a hindrance to zoro's dream

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is DOWN BAD for reader, reader is clueless, oblivious fools pining pretty much.

a/n: i pray a confession like this finds me

"The hell do you mean you're not coming?" Zoro repeated, brows furrowed as he watched you pack his bag.

"I don't know why you're acting surprised. I've already told you this," you stated, plainly, stuffing a toothbrush in his knapsack. "Did three weeks on the sticks make you hard of hearing?"

"This isn't funny, (y/n)..."

"I'm not laughing, Zoro."

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at your sarcasm as he pulled himself off the door frame, moving toward you.

This sudden coldness seemed to be coming from nowhere.

"What brought this on?" he asked, seriously, "Before we started this journey, you were itching to get off Shimotsuki. Now all of a sudden you wanna go back home?"

"It is not all of a sudden," you corrected, sharply, halting your movements and snapping your head over to him with furrowed brows.

You didn't appreciate that he was making it sound you were doing this on a whim.

In reality, you'd been thinking about this for a while.

"You sure about that? 'Cause this is the first I'm hearing about it," he fired back with just as much bite. "So unless you've been keeping something from me, then yes, it is all of a sudden."

You groaned, annoyed with and unprepared for such rigorous questioning.

Though, in hindsight, you should've figured.

When it came to things about you, Zoro seemed to stand at full attention, acting as if figuring out whatever was up with you was as interesting as finding the One Piece.

Little did you know, it was something as simple as fear...

You went quiet, frantically racking your brain for something to say, his side eye practically burning through your flesh.

"I'm homesick, alright..." you lied, horribly, averting your eyes from him. "I miss Sensei... and Haru... and Kenzo..."

"Bullshit," he scoffed, not buying it for a second. "The day we left, you wouldn't shut up about how happy you were to leave Haru and Kenzo behind."

You gulped, a pit of nervousness sinking in your stomach at his tone.

He sounded pissed.

"You've always been a terrible liar, (y/n), so cut the crap and spit it out."

The swordsman slowly stalked even closer, until he stood right before you, forcing you to look up at him.

"I'm not asking again."

"Can't you just leave this alone?!" you whined with a exasperated sigh, throwing your head back. "Why the hell do you care so much?"

"I care because my best friend is ditching me when we promised we were gonna sail across the world together!"

"I'm not ditching you!"

"You're ditching me, (y/n)! Ditching me to go back home for what? For Haru and Kenzo? The guys I used to beat up 'cause they'd pick on you?!"

"It's not like that!"

"Oh, then, please, by all means, tell me what it's like!"

"I'm holding you back, alright!" you barked, stunning the man to silence.

Your chest tugged as the words echoed in the air, feeling that much more real.

God, you were so ashamed.

You wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow you whole.

"You're what?" Zoro asked, completely confused.

"I'm dead weight! A burden! A hindrance! A million other words for weakling I can't think of right now..." you continued, plopping yourself down on the bed, defeated. "Whenever I try to fend for myself, I always get knocked on my ass, and you always have to turn around and save me! That's not something we can keep up if we're joining a pirate crew! And especially not if we're heading out to the Grand Line!"

You sighed, looking down at your lap, sadly.

"People like me don't survive in a place like that... And if you wanna become the World's Greatest Swordsman, then you can't have any distractions... especially none of the bumbling little sister variety."

Saying that last part felt like swallowing glass.

You hated everything about this whole conversation.

Of course, you wanted to travel the world with Zoro; that'd been your dream for as long as you'd know him.

But you loved him to much to hold him back.

The man was going places, and deserved to pursue his ambitions without worrying about you being killed while he wasn't looking.

Taking a breath, Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose, before he hit you in the face with a pillow, harshly, knocking you back on the bed.

"OW!" you yelped, muffled by the cushion smothering your face. "THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!"

"THAT'S WHAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT?! YOU MADE ME THINK THAT I—"

The man stopped himself abruptly, taking a moment to regain his composure.

You nearly scared him half to death.

He though he had done something or said something wrong that made you want to abandon your dream.

The possibility was eating him alive, and he frantically racked his brain to try to recall what he did.

Obviously, it didn't work, and only further filled him with the dread of continuing on his journey alone.

But now that he knew what the real problem was, it'd be a cold day in hell before he'd ever let it ruin your plans.

"Look..." he started, carefully removing the pillow from your face. "I don't know why you said all that crap about you bein' a burden or a weakling or whatever, 'cause I know you're not one..."

His gaze shifted to you, seriously, his steel eyes practically peering into your soul.

"But even if you were... you think that's gonna convince me leave you behind? Like we aren't friends?"

He shook his head, giving up on pretending.

"Hell, like we aren't more than that?"

You let out a slight gasp, eyes nearly as wide as saucers.

This had to be a dream...

"A couple of cheap excuses won't make me give up on you, (y/n)," he continued on, a small smirk creeping onto his face. "Our journey's not over. And I'll drag you by your ankles kicking and screaming before I let you go back to that village by yourself."

Swiftly, his arm snaked under your waist, yanking you up with a yelp and allowing him to get a better look at your face.

God, you were so damn pretty...

That crush of his had been a constant presence in his life since the moment he met you, and now it looked like it would be there for even longer.

"You're my (y/n), you hear me? Not a little sister. Not a nuisance. My (y/n)," Zoro stated, plainly, not a single hint of doubt in his tone. "Nobody else can take your place. And I'm not leaving this goddamn inn until you promise that you're coming with me to join Luffy's crew."

Suddenly, his face became somber, expression turning vulnerable as his eyes glimmered with a slight hint of fear.

You were his anchor... his tether to the ground.

You'd been there from the moment he first picked up a sword, acting as a nurse and his number one cheerleader during his crusade against Kuina.

He'd become accustomed to your mindless conversations as he trained.

Accustomed to your post-battle scoldings as you patched him up.

Accustomed to your adorable snorts of laughter as you two yukked it up over dinner.

You had become so intertwined with him and his dream, that he no longer found any distinguishing feature between the two.

And rather, he realized something of vital importance...

"I need you by my side, (y/n)..." he stated, firmly, grip tightening around your waist. "Without you..."

He attempted to gather himself once again, eyes staring into yours like they held the heavens in their iris.

"Without you... I'll never be the World's Greatest Swordsman."

You practically turned into a cherry, so overwhelmed that you could barely speak.

This is a bad idea!

You're gonna get yourself killed!

He won't be there every time!

He'll get sick of you!

But you quieted the intrusive thoughts, your answer already set the moment the words left his lips.

"If we make it out to sea... you'll really be stuck with me," you sighed with a faint chuckle, resting your forehead against his. "No turning back."

He smirked, leaning into you as well.

"Wouldn't want it any other way."

With a playful shrug, you let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with a cheeky smile.

"Well, since you asked so nicely... I guess I can come with you."

His eyes widened with surprise, and without a moment's hesitation, he kissed you, smashing his lips on yours with a passion so palpable, it nearly knocked you back onto the bed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pulled his hold even tighter, your places in each other's arms feeling nothing short of home.

And, once everything was said and done, you two pulled away, staring into each other's eyes.

Within them, you could find nothing but pure, unfiltered devotion.

[bontentrio]

SAFE PLACE

yunho x gn reader

summary: after a tiring day you found yourself being comforted by the warmth of your boyfriend while he played video games.

tw: fluff maaaybe some angst but not really (+ spelling mistakes probably, english is not my first language)

based on this video of yunho looking very boyfriend (i screamed very loudly and cried a little)

the weather kind of reflected how you were feeling: grey, and on the verge of tears. the weight of your horrible day rested on your shoulders, and each step you took towards your home was more dreadful than the last. not only did your feet hurt from the new shoes you were wearing, but also your head, you had a terrible headache.

your day actually did not start as bad as it ended, you woke up in time and got dressed for work in a nice outfit. nice outfit = nice day, right? oh how wrong you were. as soon as you got to the office, you accidentally spilled your coffee cup on your nice outfit after bumping against one of the desks by accident. your white shirt immediately ruined despite trying to wipe the stain off with some wipes.

later on that day, your boss scolded you for apparently handling some documents poorly. thing is, when you asked to see said documents, you realized they weren’t even yours to begin with. so you tried telling that to your boss, and you could tell he realized his mistake but obviously did not care enough to apologize. he just sighed and left, probably on his way to scold the right person for the poor management.

on your way home, you missed the train. and on top of that it started raining slightly, but you did not have your umbrella because, surprise! you forgot it at the office. thankfully once you got on the next train, it stopped raining. the weather still looked awful though, and it seemed like it would continue raining later.

thankfully the day was over. you entered your apartment and dropped everything by the door, not bothering enough to put everything into the right place.

“i said go right! no! my right! why would i say your right when its filled with enemies, are you dumb?” you suddenly heard your boyfriend yell. “see, now we are dead and our teammates suck so they won’t be able to revive us”.

you walked towards the living room, and found yunho facing the tv with his spider man custom controller in his hands. he immediately noticed your presence, said something along the lines of “be right back, keep watch” and stood up to greet you.

“hi baby, how are you?” he asked, kissing you. “i prepared your favorite food earlier today, it’s in the fridge, just heat it up whenever you feel like it”.

you didn’t say anything in response, just hugged him tightly, trying to contain the tears from spilling out. you didn’t realize how exhausted you actually were from your horrible day, how much you needed yunho to hold you and tell you that everything will be okay.

“hey, hey y/n, you okay?” he asked, lifting up your head to face him. he brushed your cheeks with his thumbs and stared into your eyes worridly. some tears spilled out, but you couldn’t mutter a single word, just shook your head in order to say “no”. yunho didn’t need anything else, he understood you didn’t want to talk about it. at least not right now. “how about a shower first? does that sound right?” he asked, before kissing your forehead. you nodded.

he quickly went back to his place at the sofa and told his friend he needed to leave momentarily and will be back later. then he took your hand and lead you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet seat while he prepared the hot shower for you. “come here, love” he said, extending his hand for you to take. yunho proceeded to undress you, taking notice of the brown stain on your shirt in the process. once you were done, you got in the shower and noticed that the temperature of the water was perfect.

“i’ll do the laundry and wait for you in the living room” yunho said while taking your work clothes in his hands.

———

you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit better after the shower. you got dressed in your pj shorts and stole one of yunho’s many hoodies, putting it on and staring at yourself in the mirror. you noticed the big eyebags, evidence of how exhausted you were from the day and from work itself.

you found yunho back in his spot on the sofa, controller still in hand, but now speaking calmly. when he caught your eyes, he smiled and extended his hand for you to take, again. this time, you were able to smile back. “better?” he asked, and you nodded. he took your hand and brought you towards him, sitting you on his lap. you immediately wrapped your legs and arms around him, caging him and allowing your head to rest on the spot between his shoulder and neck. you inhaled his scent, and slowly felt all your worries slipping away.

yunho’s arms were around you, controller still in his hands. at some point, you weren’t quite sure when, you heard him say goodbye to his friend and that he was going to play another game solo mode. he proceeded to hold you tighter, properly this time since he left momentarily the controller besides him. “everything will be okay, you will be okay” he whispered to your ear, kissing you lightly on the side of your head.

you don’t know when, but between the soft tapping of the rain against the windows and the low humming coming from yunho, you finally drifted to sleep.

you will be okay, as long as yunho was there to kiss your tears away and be your safe place from dark days.