#like the chokehold this track has on me- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norikuna · 18 days ago

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LAST FRIDAY NIGHT — choso kamo

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (d) and let the show begin !

prologue. → it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

but it's been years since choso had started silently loving you.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings. vírgin!choso, spítting, kíssing, makíng out, thígh kínk (mild), yuuji being a menace 😭

word count. 8k! song inspiration. last friday night — katy perry

a/n. i can't believe i don't write for choso more. i really put a lot of love into this fic but i wish i had expanded on it a bit more 😭 one thing abt me is that i love adding side characters to cóck block

mp3. think we kissed, but i forgot!

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? breakups happen every day — you don't have to lose it."

you jab at the skip button like it's personally offended you, cutting off the mournful strains of the evermore bonus track mid-verse. normally, you'd let the singer's poetic misery hold your fragile heart in a pretty gentle chokehold, for she understood your heartbreak like a nobel laureate in emotional devastation. but not today.

not on this particularly dreary friday, right before christmas, where even ms. swift's dulcet agony felt obnoxiously on the nose.

pinned under the suffocating weight of your quilt, you let out a dramatic sigh that could rival a victorian heroine wasting away from heartache and humiliation.

with the theatrics of someone clawing their way out of a shipwreck, you work one arm free, waving it weakly into the air like your tragic signal of defeat.

the cocoon of your quilts and covers isn't warm nor comforting. it's a smothering trap, a quilted tomb of your own making.

"this is it," you mumble to the empty air of the apartment, your voice muffled by layers of fabric, "this is how i go."

the universe, for its part, remains unbothered by your suffering.

with a theatrical groan that would earn you a standing ovation in a one-person tragedy, you yank the quilt over your head. plunging yourself into darkness once more.

but unfortunately, the muffled strains of your 'sad girl winter' playlist refusing to take the hint seep through, like overly persistent ghosts of your bad decisions in the past. it seemed that evermore was feeling less like a balm for your soul, and more like the soundtrack to your public humiliation.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of your bed, half pillows and half-sulking regret, your poor and neglected nintendo switch lies face down like it gave up on your hours ago. its screen has long since gone dark, but if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear your animal crossing villagers whispering conspiratorially, drafting a formal petition to evict you.

no doubt tom nook is already sharpening his capitalist claws, repossessing your house with an unsettling amount of glee.

but the rest of your room is not much better. the string lights on your walls flicker half-heartedly, casting an uneven glow over the wreckage of the past week.

it's not the charming nor dramatic kind of mess that makes for an artsy photo dump. no, this is the slow and unflattering unravelling of someone who let life beat them up with zero resistance. if rooms could file restraining orders, yours would have done it by now.

teetering laundry piles of discarded sweatshirts are haphazardly stacked in the corner. nearby, an empty hot cocoa mug sits, sticky with the remnants of whipped cream. candy cane wrappers are strewn across the room, the aftermath of a peppermint explosion that made your jaw ache.

but the true centrepiece of this disaster? your phone, face down on your nightstand. neglected and on silent. the one object in this room that's probably begging for attention, and one that you've been skilfully ignoring. and yet, right on cue, it buzzes again.

lighting up with a contact number that you've been ignoring all week.

choso.

and you squint at the notification, at the glowing screen that makes your eyes sting in the dim light.

sweet, dependable and utterly loyal choso.

your best friend of over a decade. the one person that you can't bring yourself to face.

the one person that also deserves so much better than this radio silence, and yet the last person that you can humanly confront. especially not after what happened last friday night.

and here, good friends, lies the crux of your problem.

that doomed night, seven days ago, has mostly dissolved into a series of blurry and fragmented snapshots. like a bad, half-finished film that you'd walked out of halfway through.

but the lead up? oh, you remember that part with the kind of clarity that should have been reserved for more important moments.

you could still feel the heat of storming out of that overpriced restaurant, half-drunk and fully pissed off, tears streaming down your cheeks and thickening your throat.

your ex-boyfriend? well, he had been your current boyfriend, before he decided to break up with you. in public. for all that classy, emotional damage that was so in character for him.

and with a line so perfectly cliché, it practically begged to be immortalised on a 'worst breakup excuses' list in cosmopolitan: i'm sorry, baby. i just don't see it working anymore. we're just too different. oh! and i found someone else.

oh, sure. but you should have been glad to have been rid of the man-child that thought frankenstein was the monster's name, the man who commented 'oxford study' on innocent tiktoks, and called pinterest 'girl instagram.'

god, what a fuckin' loser.

fuelled by a mix of public-induced heartache and questionable tequila choices, you had practically charged across street crossing. your feet hitting the pavement with the reckless kind of abandon reserved for teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

and there choso had been in your apartment. your best friend had been sitting cross-legged on your rug, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. probably wrapping yuuji's christmas gifts with military precision. he had been balancing a roll of tape in his mouth, scissors over his lap dangerously close to the family jewels. but you had barrelled through the door like a feral cat in a downpour.

his eyes had widened, a little startled, as you made your entrance. the tape had fallen out of his mouth, chestnut hair falling over his face as he gaped. you couldn't blame choso, of course. you had looked entirely like a bedraggled, disheveled mess in a storm. cheeks streaked with mascara trails, but then everything went...fuzzy?

what did you remember? crying. lots of it.

and boy, was it a show. the kind of weeping where your face contorts into a puffed-up, berry-red disaster, and you would feel the headache creeping in even before the tears had finished.

choso's arms had caught you before you could face plant into the couch. solid, broad. warm and familiar.

you had caught the scent of clove and pepper, alongside faint citrus that you had been associating with him over the years. you had been saying something, raw and desperate.

your words had spilled out of you like water from a broken faucet.

and here you were now, reaping the glorious consequences of your own unfiltered word vomit.

seven days of stewing in your own shame and regret. but seven days were not enough to undo this level of self-sabotage. you briefly considered the options: faking amnesia, dropping out of university entirely, or best case scenario — moving to antarctica and herding emperor penguins.

you groan, sinking deeper into the abyss of your covers. and then, of course, your phone buzzed again. the dull and persistent vibration drilled into your skull like a tiny, digital drill.

cho 💜

(01:09am) hey, are you doing okay? (08:42am) tell me if you need anything! (04:23pm) hello? did i do something?

you peek at the screen, trying to avoid making eye contact with the tiny and terrifying letters. your sheet mask scrunches uncomfortably, making you look like a particularly pathetic mummy. choso's sweet and utterly patient messages were a sharp control to your gross sulk, and his concern makes you want to curl into a ball and crawl into a snowbank.

outside, christmas snow fell gently, blanketing the world in a soft and untouched white. it was like something out of a dream, a world of calm and peace. peace that your trifling ass didn't deserve.

if choso wanted to speak to you, he'd have to drag you out of your self-imposed misery himself. and even if he were to arrive at your apartment door, he'd only find a note tacked to the wall. with a map leading to the south pole.

so, what exactly had happened last friday night?

the memory rolls out like an old film reel, all jagged and distorted. the kind that you can't skip, even if you wanted to. it comes in fragments, each one more excruciatingly clear than the last. the haze of vodka-infused whipped cream shots over hot drinks slowly melting away like a bad handover.

the door to your apartment? you remember that part with embarrassing clarity. you had kicked it open with awful, ragged flair. your heel slipping on the floor, and you had nearly stacked it. face-first into your own doorway, standing there with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates.

the second the door had slammed shut behind you, a gust of frigid winter shot through the apartment like a chill reminder of your situation.

choso had been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, in the midst of complete, barbaric chaos. the roll of mauve wrapping paper teetered precariously on his dark jeans, and scissors dangled from his lap while a stripe of tape was wedged between his teeth. in between the mess of clippings and discarded tape, he seemed more like an absurdly morose-looking christmas elf that had been tasked with being santa's helper after an entire bottle of mulled wine.

but as you had walked in, or rather stumbled in, his gaze had shot up. his chestnut hair falling in messy curtains around his face, with one unruly strand intertwined with a red-white rogue ribbon. choso's face had twisted in alarm, his usual solemn manner replaced by someone who looked like they were trying to figure out whether they needed to brace themselves for good or bad news.

"hey," he had said, voice soft but sharp, like he was trying to handle fragile glass. choso had spat the tape out of his mouth unceremoniously, and he had been tugging the ribbon free rom his hair, concern all over his fine features, "what's wrong? are you okay?"

and you? a disaster. drunk, crying, furious. the recipe for an emotional molotov cocktail.

"i hate him," you had snarled, yanking off your beige coat, hurling it in the general direction of the couch. instead, your aim missed entirely. flopping halfway onto the floor, and halfway across choso's knee.

choso simply plucked the coat off his leg with two fingers, gingerly draping it over the arm of the couch. your best friend was frowning as he set down his oversized scissors, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. amber-hazel eyes flicked to yours, wide with alarm as he stepped closer, "are you hurt? is this about —?" he was hesitating, "your boyfriend?"

"no, my ex-boyfriend!" the words were ripped out of you, and your voice pathetically cracked halfway through as tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, "and 'm not hurt, cho. unless you count emotional damage," punctuating your statement with a tragic, breathy hiccup.

choso's perpetual frown deepened, as thick and unruly brows knit together, "okay," he said, voice low and steady, "do you want to sit down? i can get you some water, wait." his steps are slow, purposeful as he closes the distance between you gently, with measured care. or like he was defusing a bomb.

but you were having none of his gentle care, "no, i don't want water! i want — i want to un-date him," you wail, arms flailing as you start pacing like a caffeinated hamster, "god, i'm so stupid for dating him in the first place. and yes, i know, stop looking at me like that. i know you want to say i told you so, but he's such a —," you pause mid-rant, clawing the air for the right word, "a troll. a goblin, an ogre."

choso blinks, "maybe you should just get some fresh water in you," but there's an underlying layer of grimacing amusement painted over his quiet features, "and i didn't even say i told you so."

"no," you blurt, your head snapping so fast that your neck immediately files a complaint in the form of a sharp crick, "i don't want water. i want —"

and then, your brain short-circuited. because that's when you'd actually looked at him. like really looked.

warm hazel eyes framed by dark, sleepless circles that seemed to follow choso around like cursed ghosts. soft, feathery strands of mahogany hair that refused to stay tied back, and tumbled rebelliously into his face. that damn sweatshirt, loose and charcoal gray, and perfectly slouched over his broad shoulders. the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal forearms so solid that they could make a renaissance sculptor pack and quit.

and like a freight train at full speed, like whee-woo, the realisation hit you. choso kamo.

your best friend in the entire world. your steady and reliable, and kind to a fault best friend. better than any stupid ex that you'd ever had.

and because tequila is the nectar of chaos, and heartbreak has no filter, your mouth decided to unleash the words that you would haunt you for the next week.

"i should have been dating you."

the room is silent, as choso freezes entirely. like someone had smacked the pause button on him, and his hand, mid-reach for a glass of water, stops cold. his eyes are wide, mouth parting as though he hadn't yet processed what you had said.

"what?" choso finally manages, the words soft and stunned, like he wasn't sure that he had heard you correctly.

you, in your infinite wisdom (or rather, drunken idiocy), barrelled on like a bull who had just seen red cloth, "i'm so serious! you're the one i should've been with all along!"

you wave a hand at him, as if showcasing him to an invisible jury, "you're smart and you're sweet, and you actually care about me, unlike him!"

choso blinks, his expression unreadable, "okay," he says slowly, setting the glass back down on the table, "i think maybe, uh, you should sit down?"

"i don't wanna sit down, i want you to stop looking so perfect right now."

there's a faint flush creeping up choso's neck, like red pigment staining cream watercolour canvas, "perfect?"

"yes!" you hiccuped, teetering over the couch, "you're supposed to be my best friend, and instead you just stand there with your stupid forearms, and your everything, and it's not fair!"

choso doesn't move, doesn't even speak. just stands there, vaguely dumbstruck. like you had hung the moon, and then yanked it back down to earth to hurl it at his chest.

"i should've been dating you, cho," you declare again, louder this time, and your finger jabs his broad chest like it was somehow his fault, "you're the best, y'know that? and you're so hot, how did i not realise this sooner?"

your best friend's expression goes on a journey of varying emotions, shock and disbelief, panic and confusion. all while his candied pink lips open and close, "uh," because by now, eloquence had left the room for both parties. his hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to steady you or flee. his ears noticeably red, the flush creeping down his neck.

but drunk-dumped you wasn't done. oh no, this was your oscar moment. the hill you were going to die on. the ted talk that no one asked for.

and you were on a roll now, "i mean, look at you! you've got the broody, hot guy thing down so well, and you know that's my type. and everyone knows it, like why aren't we dating already?"

choso's mouth curls again, but no sound comes out. he looks like he wants to crawl into a snowbank and bury himself there forever, "okay, i think maybe you should sit down before you hurt yourself, or, uh, the furniture."

"i'm fine!" you'd declared, throwing your arms up in defiance just as your knees decided that they were absolutely not fine. you wobbled, and in an instant, choso's warm hands are on your shoulders, steadying you with ease.

the searing heat of his touch makes your heart lurch in a way that felt far too real for comfort. you look up at him, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, and your breath hitches.

he's close enough now that his lips could press against yours with the mere turn of his head. but you know that choso's just too kind and thoughtful to kiss you in this state right now. he also looks like he's about to gently suggest that you pull yourself together. you wouldn't know, because you've just bulldozed right over him with zero brakes.

tears stream down your face still, but they're starting to slow. sticky and hot, tacking to your cheeks, as you deliver the final blow, "if i asked you to kiss me now — like genuinely right now, would you, cho?"

you would never know what choso's reply would be, because you hiccup violently. the kind that punches your chest and makes you sway. fate was never done with you, because your stomach lurches in warning. you had clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with panic.

choso, bless his heart, had looked ready to throw himself in front of you, "bathroom. now," he'd commanded, his voice taking on a rare, firm edge.

and that's right where your memory cut off, mercifully plunging you into the black void of your vodka-soaked brain. no idea if you'd made it to bathroom. no idea if you'd thrown up all over him, classy as always.

but the last thing you did remember, the thing that haunted you eve now, like a ghost tapping on your shoulder, was the look on choso's face. wide-eyed, jaw slack. like you had flipped his entire world upside down.

choso sits cross-legged on the cold dorm floor, the faint creak of wood beneath him. in his hands is a neatly wrapped gift, small and unassuming. but painstakingly chosen for you. the crimson ribbon, shiny and festive, catches the light of the desk lamp.

it wasn't extravagant, nothing flashy nor pricey. but it was thoughtful, personal. something that he had picked out weeks ago, back when everything between you two had been normal.

back when you didn't look at your phone, and decide he wasn't worth answering.

choso's thumb grazes the corner of the box, smoothing over the edges of the paper that he had meticulously folded after watching youtube tutorials. but now? the box felt heavier than it had any right to. would you even want this anymore? would you even want to see him?

choso sighs, letting his head tip back against the edge of his bed frame. it was a tight and awful feeling, something small and sharp that had wormed its way into his chest.

it wasn't just the silence. it wasn't even the unanswered texts or the way you’d been avoiding him like he was the human incarnation of bad news.

it was the fact that you were you. his best friend. the person he always knew how to read — until now, when everything felt scrambled.

he stares at the gift again, his brows furrowing. he'd been turning this over in his mind for seven straight days, wearing grooves into his thoughts like a track stuck on repeat. did you regret it? did you even remember what you said?

and worse — what if you did mean it?

that last thought was the one that always hit hardest. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into his face. somewhere on his desk, his phone buzzed softly, and for a second, his pulse jumped. but when he checked, it wasn't you.

because of course it wasn’t.

"pathetic," choso muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

seven days.

seven long, agonising days since you'd stumbled into your apartment like the ghost of heartbreak past — tear-streaked, half-drunk, and dropping words so raw they’d knocked the air out of choso's lungs.

seven days since you’d looked at him like he was everything good in the world — right before nearly puking on him and passing out on the couch in a heap of drunken devastation.

and seven days of brutal radio silence ever since.

choso groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slouched against the edge of his bed. he got it — why you'd be embarrassed. he, he was still processing it, the memory looping in his head like a cursed highlight reel.

"you're amazing, cho. you're perfect."

the words echoed, soft and slurred, over and over like a broken record choso couldn’t shut off. a selfish part of him — a really shameful, awful part — had been glad your ex was out of the picture. not that it was a surprise; choso had never liked that guy. too loud, too cocky. the kind of guy who thought buying overpriced cologne absolved him of skipping deodorant.

but then there was the other part of him — the one that made him feel like a jerk. the part that felt guilty for feeling anything at all. because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

choso wasn't supposed to have spotify playlists privately curated with all your favourite songs. wasn't supposed to have started buying extra hair ties, just because the thought of you stealing one was so annoyingly appealing.

and he definitely wasn't supposed to have been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for five years and counting.

how many times had he messaged now? four? five? enough that he was starting to feel like that guy, the one who couldn’t take a hint. what if you'd sobered up and realised last friday was just drunk nonsense? what if you didn't like him like that at all?

had he not spent seven days drowning his misery in tubs of mango and pistachio ice cream? enough was enough.

choso's thumb hovered over your contact for a long, stupid second, debating whether to send one more pointless text. but before he could add another "hey, just checking in," he swiped away and hit a different contact. a boisterous teenager with a shock of pink hair.

he shoots off a quick text, almost grimacing as he hits send.

Choso Kamo: Need advice. Got a hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: if this is smth weird i'm not googling it for u

choso rolled his eyes, already regretting this decision. but he needed to hear an outside opinion.

Choso Kamo: It's not weird, serious this time. If someone confesses something private to you while they are drunk, then avoids you for a week, what do you do? Hypothetically?

a pause, and then:

yuujithegoat2003: is this someone a hot girl lol

choso sighed, his dry lips twitching despite himself.

Choso Kamo: Yes. Also, serious answers only. yuujithegoat2003: ok ok. do they remember what they said? Choso Kamo: Most likely not.

yuujithegoat2003: huh...so did they say something good? or was it rude? Choso Kamo: It was good. Really quite good. yuujithegoat2003: bro this seems easy, just ask if they meant it.

choso blinked at his phone, at the...almost reasonable response. suspiciously reasonable, coming from his younger brother.

Choso Kamo: And if they freak out? Or say that they didn't mean it? yuujithegoat2003: then u say 'just kidding' and blow the place up and leave the country. i can get u a fake id, i know a guy. i know lots of guys.

Choso Kamo: You need to stop being influenced by Gojo Satoru. Just because his public break-up landed on national news does not make it a premise for my own situation. Hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: ok, gojo just said no one gaf abt your love life anyway. seriously tho if u like this hypothetical person, just be chill. don't be all intense and scare them off bc its never that deep.

Choso Kamo: Love is that deep. Especially when you care for the other person a lot. yuujithegoat2003: ur so dramatic bro. anyway good luck.

yuujithegoat2003: also if you get rejected don't tell me bc i can't handle second hand embarrassment. thx. gtg to work. these pizzas don't deliver themselves ay

choso glances down at the gift still in his lap, the ribbon he'd so painstakingly tied now a little crushed — much like his pride. the box stares back at him accusingly, as if to say, what's the plan here, genius? wait for her to magically show up?

choso exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. sitting here wallowing wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither was yuuji's unhelpful voice.

"yeah, sure," he mutters under his breath, shoving the box into his jacket pocket. he stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

if you weren’t going to talk to him, fine. he'd bring the conversation to you. answers, he thought, stepping out into the cold. the winter air bit at his face, but it was bracing, grounding even. one way or another, tonight was going to settle this.

the knocking was relentless.

you tried to ignore it at first, clutching your blanket like it was a shield against all outside forces. whoever was at the door would get the hint eventually. probably. hopefully.

but no, the knocking persisted, evolving into a deliberate rhythm, like some overzealous drummer auditioning for a garage band.

"unbelievable," you groaned, peeling your headphones off and tossing them onto the pillow where they landed with a hollow clatter. if this was the pizza guy you'd ordered from two hours ago, he was wildly late, and you were too broke to tip him anyway.

dragging yourself off the mattress felt like an olympic event. your legs wobbled, your blanket fortress collapsed behind you, and your pride was buried somewhere under the covers still. at least you'd showered earlier — small victories.

your damp hair dripped cold trails down the back of your oversized sweatshirt, and you caught a whiff of cocoa butter as you shuffled to the door. that was…something acceptable at least. but then the mirror by the entryway betrayed you, reflecting sleep-swollen eyes, and the faint ghost of face mask residue clinging stubbornly to your skin.

perfect. a vision of grace and dignity.

you yank the door open, ready to unleash a pointed what do you want? — but the words lodge somewhere in your throat.

smooth. and oh, just your luck.

there stood choso, a walking anomaly in the drab matrix of your sad little existence. his tall frame fills the doorway, backlit by the flickering hallway light, clad in a baggy black tee and faded denim that didn't quite match the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. his hair was tied up in a messy bun, spiky strands sticking out like an afterthought, and of course, he looked unfairly good for someone who had probably spent the past week avoiding the sunlight.

"uh, hey," he says, his voice softer than usual — careful, even. like he thought you might throw the nearest piece of furniture at him and sprint into the night.

"hey?" you echo, voice brittle as you folded your arms tighter. the sweatshirt you were wearing — his sweatshirt, one that he had left here weeks ago — suddenly felt two sizes too big and painfully obvious, "what are you doing here?"

choso scratches the back of his neck, his gaze flickering over you briefly before darting to the floor, "i needed to see you."

"at…eight at night? without warning?"

"would you have answered if i'd texted you?"

the air between you stilled as your brain scrambles for a retort, but he had you dead to rights. with a reluctant huff, you step aside. "fair point. just come in."

choso hesitates for half a second before stepping inside, his presence making your already small apartment feel even more claustrophobic. he's taking a quick glance around, and you watched, mortified, as his eyes landed on the pile of crumpled tissues precariously close to a half-drunk mug of cocoa and a bottle of jack daniel's teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

"sorry for the mess," you mutter, your voice defensive as you crossed your arms tighter.

"it's fine," choso says, a little too quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, "i didn't mean to…interrupt."

"you didn't interrupt anything." you wave vaguely at the disaster zone that was your apartment.

choso's lips twitch, almost like he wanted to smile but wasn't sure if now was the time, "look, i just —" he trails off, his usual dull voice faltering as he pulled something small and neatly wrapped from his pocket, "i came to give you this. and talk."

you stare at the gift in his hands, shiny crimson ribbon and all, your pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be, "christmas came early? thanks, cho," you say, mirroring his words with the kind of ease that only comes from too many shared silences. "i'm fine, though. i wasn't up to much."

choso cracks a small, half-hearted smile, but it's like watching a flicker of light in a dim room — there, but not really there. "i tried texting," he says, glancing at you, searching for something.

"i know," you murmur, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "i just wasn't in the mood for much talking."

choso huffs, a sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, "i noticed," he says dryly, and that only makes the air in the room more thick and uncomfortable.

you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as you flop back onto the couch, curling your knees up to your chest like you're trying to make yourself small enough to disappear, "so, what? you came here to check if i'm still breathing?"

"kind of," choso admits, settling awkwardly on the edge of your coffee table, his long legs folded beneath him in that way that makes him look like he’s trying to physically contain himself. his knees bump into yours, and you have to fight the urge to pull away, like you could get too close, "but mostly...i came to talk about last friday night."

your stomach does a horrifying little flip, the kind that sends cold fingers crawling up your spine. you stare at him, silently willing him to read the begging look in your eyes and back off, but he doesn't. he's never been the type to take the hint.

"i've been thinking about it all week," he continues, his voice quiet but steady, as if he's preparing himself for something big, "and i need to know if —"

"nope," you interrupt, holding up a hand, "nope. we're not going there."

choso blinks at you, like he's trying to process the sudden barricate that you've just put up. but you're so not ready for this conversation, not now, nor ever. and you'll be damned if he gets any closer to the minefield. he scowls, his brows knitting together like he's resisting the urge to push you off the couch, "why not?"

"because it doesn't matter, okay?" you lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like you can will this conversation away, "i was drunk as hell, cho. you're overthinking it."

he scoffs, his voice sharp now, like he's cutting through your flimsy deflection with a blade, "i don't think i am."

you wince, shrinking a little under the weight of his stony gaze, "why does this even matter?"

"you think i can just brush it off like it didn't happen?" and there's a rawness in choso's voice that hits you harder than expected.

your cheeks heat up, a fiery blush creeping up your neck, "i didn't mean it," you mutter.

"yes, you did," choso snaps back, with uncharacteristic heat, and he leans forward, enough to close the distance between you two, "and you know how i know? because you've been ignoring me all week. if it was just some drunk nonsense, you would have laughed it off by now. but you haven't."

you open your mouth to argue, to push back. but the words stick heavy in your throat. nothing comes out, and it must prove choso all the more right, because you watch as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth, suddenly watching plush skin split.

"do you want me to apologise?" you ask finally, voice a little too sharp for comfort, "because i will. i'll say i'm sorry for putting you in that position and —"

"i don't want an apology," choso cuts you off, and the dim light of your apartment makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises, "i want the truth."

you freeze, your heart thudding like a drum in your chest, "what truth, cho?"

"that you meant it," choso says softly, "that you meant it when you said that you wish it had been me."

the words hang in the air, heavy and electric. your breath catches, as your mind goes blank. an entire power outage, as you blink at him like a fish out of water. finally, after what feels like an eternity, you force the knot in your throat to loosen just enough to speak, "yeah," you whisper, "i meant it."

choso's whole body seems to deflate, like he's been holding up the weight of the sky. his shoulders slump, and the sheer relief on his face hits you like a tidal wave. it's almost enough to undo you. there's a sound, soft and shaky and far too vulnerable that escapes him.

neither of you move. the moment stretches out, fragile. like it could snap in half if either of you dared to breathe too loud.

then, choso is the first to move.

there's no hesitation, no uncertainty. just pure intention, like a dam finally bursting open. he shifts forward, hands finding their way to your waist with an urgency that makes your pulse go into overdrive. choso's grip is firm, but there's a reverence to it, as if you're something he's waited his entire life to touch. he pulls you to him, and you can feel the heat of him flood your chest, your blood, your bones.

"what if you regret this?" you murmur into his chest, voice muffled as your arms slip around his necks, holding onto the beautiful man like he may float way.

"not a chance," choso replies, and his voice is raspier than you've ever heard it, like he's saying it more to himself than to you.

choso kamo finally kisses you.

the kind of kiss that feels like a storm is finally breaking over clear skies, with an unrestrainted longing that crashes over the both of you.

his sweet lips meet yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, raw and real. choso clearly doesn't want to hold back, and neither do you.

his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly at russet strands.

choso groans into your mouth, a soft and burning thing that ignites every nerve in your body.

without breaking his hold on your lips, his wide hands slide down, finding the back of your thighs, making you shamefully clench them closer together.

but he's tapping them in silent invitation, and you leap into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. the world around you blurs as he stumbles backwards.

and when the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed, gravity does its job. you both tumble into the mattress in a jumbled mess of limbs and muffled laughter, your heart pounding so loud, as you muster up the courage to prod your tongue at his lips, letting him part his mouth so you can take up more of choso.

you land beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the best way possible, sending sharp spikes of heady arousal through you. and you blink up at him, breathless.

choso is so close now, his hazel eyes locked on yours with a rare intensity, like the calm façade is entirely shattered now. but there's a smile on his lips, a crooked little thing that sends a rush of warmth through you.

"hi, choso," you whisper, your voice soft yet breathless as he chases your lips again, a desperate hunger in his eyes. it's as if he can't bear to be apart from you, even for a heartbeat.

"hey," he murmurs back, that low rumble sending shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you can't ignore.

you keep pressing kisses to his glossy lips, the world narrowing down the press of his mouth and how choso's hands cradle your waist like you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

without breaking contact, choso shifts, his strong hands guiding you gently, firmly.

"don' wanna crush you," he spills against your mouth, his voice low and rough, and before you can reply, he flips you effortless.

the movement is seamless, fluid even. and you're suddenly perched atop him, straddling his thighs and sinking into the worn denim of his jeans.

he's leaning back against the covers beneath him, as his chest rises and falls in unsteady waves as he gazes up at you. expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger.

choso looks so completely, heartbreakingly in love with you that it leaves you breathless. his hands tighten on your waist, fingertips pressing with a near bruising intensity into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt that clings to your frame.

his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling pink, and you can't help the soft, teasing coo that slips from your lips as you trace the curve of his temple with gentle fingers, "is something wrong, cho?" you murmur.

his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss, part slightly, his breath uneven and catching on the edges of unspoken emotions, "nothing. nothing, i swear," he says, the words tumbling out rough and raw, his voice pitched low and vulnerable.

his hands slide you closer, his grip firm but trembling slightly, and his next confession nearly undoes you, makes your core moisten even, "just…never done this before."

"really?" you whisper, eyes widening as you take him in — the flush on choso's cheeks, the way he won't quite meet your gaze, the way he holds you like you're something precious.

the realisation that he's never shared this part of himself with anyone else tugs sharply at your heartstrings, "never?"

choso swallows thickly, nodding once, his voice a quiet hum as he admits, "mhm."

"ah, you're so cute, cho," you giggle, watching as the man scrunches his nose in mock protest.

"tch, 'm not meant to be cute."

you huff, feigning disappointment, "and here i was, wishing you a very merry christmas eve." he whines as you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, right where his heartbeat thrums beneath his pale skin. your lips find their home at the juncture, and you can't help but smile at the way he whines at your touch, bucks his hips up into yours.

"must have been real good to get a holiday gift like this."

you pull back just enough to admire your handiwork, a little red bloom that blossoms on thin skin, bruised petals that mark him now. choso's swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, as a soft whine escapes his lips again as you lean in, this time closer to the jaw. leaving a trail of kisses in a messy that makes choso squirm.

you press your thumb against his lower lip, feeling the soft and trembling skin quiver under your touch, "hey. open up," you coax, a teasing lilt colouring your voice.

choso looks up at you, his wide eyes clouded with desire as dark strands of hair fall across his forehead, "huh, what?"

you tap his lip again, impatience bubbling in your chest, "c'mon, open your mouth. properly," and the way he immediately obeys, parting his glossy lips sends a thrill through you. the scent of clove and citrus envelops you as you lean in closer, running your tongue over his lower lip.

you let a glob of spit fall from your lip into his mouth, with a thick thwack! echoing in the air. you deliberately miss, just a little bit, to watch him squirm as he swallows, eyes fluttering shut and inky lashes staining his cheeks.

"so good, aren't you? good at playing nice, hah," you use your thumb to smear the slick over his lips, just a bit. to watch him shudder, entirely captivated by you. it's exhilarating and makes your cunt clench around nothing. probably seeping through the thin material of your shorts and onto his thick jeans.

bang bang bang!

a sharp knock that booms at your door, enough to make your ears ring. you hear choso groan beneath you, shifting slightly so you can feel the full, thick curve of his bulge right where you need him most.

"think we can ignore that?" he rasps, his voice rough and low, the sound of it leave slick strands clinging between your thighs.

you spread your legs just a little wider over him, watching as his frown dissipates and his jaw drops, distracted by the preview you've given him, "i'm really hoping so."

but whoever is at the door has no intention of being ignored. another knock rattles the wood, followed by an all-too-familiar voice yelling, "hey! open up! delivery!"

your brows furrow, recognition sparking, "cho, isn't that—"

he cuts you off with an apologetic sigh, lifting you off his lap with surprising gentleness. choso sets you down on the quilt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before muttering under his breath, "it better not be."

you watch him go, more than a little distracted by the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his messy hair bobs with each step. already, you're plotting exactly how you’ll get your hands back in it once he returns.

choso swings the door open, and you hear a collective, "what the hell?" echo through the apartment — one part you, one part choso, and one part…

"itadori yuuji?" you blurt, leaning over to get a look. sure enough, there's choso's younger brother, standing in the doorway in a bright red pizza delivery uniform, balancing three large boxes in one hand and his phone in the other.

yuuji blinks at the two of you, then raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and something vaguely accusatory before reading off his phone in a robotic voice, "uh…merry christmas eve. i have three pizzas. extra cheese. stuffed crust," he pauses, not able to keep the act up as his golden eyes narrow, "but, uh — bro, what happened to your face?"

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as choso straightens, his expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, "yuuji—"

but the younger man's attention shifts to you, his gaze taking in the oversized sweatshirt you're wearing, choso's sweatshirt, and his jaw drops, "oh hell no. this is the hot girl you texted me about?"

choso visibly flinches as you burst into giggles.

"that's like your best friend? that's like my sister-in-law!" yuuji throws up his hands in mock disbelief, "you really keep your circles tight, huh, man?"

before choso can even respond, yuuji leans in closer, squinting at his older brother, "and seriously, dude, what's all that on your face?"

choso groans, snatching the pizzas from yuuji with one hand and shoving him toward the hall with the other, "okay, that's enough. get out."

"you haven't paid me! that's against the law!" yuuji protests, but choso grabs the scruff of his brother's uniform collar, steering him out the door.

"i'll pay you double. triple. just leave."

"my pizzas are probably cold now anyway," you call out, adding fuel to the fire.

"yeah? well, you look a bit too busy to eat them anyway," yuuji swivels his head over his shoulder to wag a finger at you with a grin, before choso finally shoves him fully into the hallway.

as the door slams shut, you hear yuuji's muffled voice echoing, "i'm telling everyone. i'm telling dad. i'm telling sukuna. i'm telling gramps, gojo, nanami —"

you can hear their bickering voices fade down the hallway, to where choso is probably gonna pack him into the car and send him off.

you glance down at the box you'd set aside earlier, your curiosity getting the better of you. carefully pulling at the ribbon, you open it to find a small scrapbook, beautifully made. inside are photos and clippings of you and choso: movie ticket stubs, receipts from late-night takeout runs, train tickets from your trip to the coast.

your chest tightens as you run your fingers over the familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, a quote from a cheesy romantic movie that you had forced choso to watch with you a few months ago. what an honour it is to be loved like this.

1K notes · View notes

babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome Home

You surprise Simon at the base instead of being at home. You also think about how far he has come to acceptance.

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, fluff, dad!simon, angst, pregnancy

“I’ve fallen for it, I’ve fallen for it somehow.”

A/N: THE PART TWO DAD!SIMON FROM @ave661 IS KILLLINGGGG ME! Seriously chokehold she has me in ALL the time with her art. 😭

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

You called Price beforehand, asked him if it was alright to surprise Simon. You wanted to show up at the base with your baby girl waiting for him. Like you always do. Thankfully and full heartedly he agreed, he even added that he is excited to see his niece. On the way to the base you felt excitement as you played music for both you and your baby.

Your baby gabbles as she plays with hanging baby toys on her car seat. Simon has been gone for a month, it has been so long and you were so excited. He missed having her first tooth, which he will be so excited to see.

Once you got you and your child out of the car you headed to the inside of the base. “141 will be landing in 5 minutes ma’am.” A man said guiding you to the tarmac. “Captain Price said to meet them there.”

You followed the solider to the direction of the tarmac. You knew very well where it was at, a year ago you were on the team for 141 but decided to retire once you found out you were pregnant. Memories littered the hallways as you held your baby close.

“No.” He mumbled as you both stood in your room. He didn’t move for a moment, you thought he was going to leave and not come back for hours. Simon doesn’t do well with emotions but the last couple of months, he has been able to open up more. Now this. You didn’t know how he was going to react let alone what he was going to do.

It was clear, two lines, one word, 6 tests. You and Simon have been in secret for 2 years, established a relationship in a year. You played with your hands as nerves started to kick in. “I thought you were on birth control.” Simon said looking up at you, his eyes only to be shown. The skull mask looking at you.

“I am.” You said your heart slowly hurting, you knew that he never wanted a kid. You knew of his past so this was a joke for the both of you. It was frowned upon when a lieutenant would be sleeping with their sergeant. Hell damn near court marshaled.

Simon looked back down at the tests. He can’t. He won’t. His mind racing a million miles an hour. How could he explain this one to Price? How could you hide a belly on the force? Is there a way for it to be a secret anymore? He cursed himself for loving the fact that he could breed you. It was a new found kink, with him thinking of his cum coating your walls. Simon never broadcast it to you. Telling you that seeing a belly got him feral, thinking about how your body would react to his gift. But…It’s just…is it too soon? Was he ready? Surely he couldn’t be.

“I can get…”

“No,” He cut you off before looking up at you. “This…Not that. ‘M,” his voice trailed. No abortion, he won’t put your body through hell just because both of you didn’t want to wrap it. “I just-I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either,” You whispered walking slowly up to him. “But we can figure this out?”

Simon nodded once still looking at the tests. You waited as he stood there and sighed. “We have to tell Price now.”

“Here is the tarmac,” The solider said breaking you from your thoughts. “It looks like they have just landed.”

You mumbled a thank you as soldiers came out one by one from the plane. All covered in dirt or blood, tired written on their faces. You frowned knowing that Simon felt the same, it couldn’t have gone the way it suppose to.

You smiled as you walked out watching Gaz come out first, happy surprise on his face. He looked to the side of him to see Soap, who smiled at you nodded. Price smiled, heading towards the direction you were before stopping. Simon, walked out last, almost stopped in his tracks.

Smile beaming on his face underneath the skull mask. His girls. He be-lined to you and your baby girl. His heart beating quickly, as excitement coursed through his veins.

Price stood as both of his teammates broke the news. He had his suspicions of them fucking around but not together. He itches his beard as your tears start to mellow out. Simon was not looking at him but folding his arms while leaning against the wall.

It was like two of his kids came home after school to get hounded at. It was amusing if Price wasn’t angry. Yes. He was at first, his lieutenant and his best sniper in a bit of a bind. She has to be discharged no way will Price NOR Simon let her go out in the field. Especially since they voiced they are keeping the kid.

“We keep it low,” Price finally spoke watched as both of you looked up. “We have to slowly discharge you, not try to have eyes on the situation until then. No missions for you.”

You nodded, first time every has he seen you so shy. Timid. Usually you had confidence written all over you. “Yes sir.” You mumbled looking away.

Price looked at Simon. “I want to have a discussion with you,” He looked at you as you stared at him. You both are young, younger than him anyway. He seen how Simon’s demeanor changed throughout the years when you came on the force. Of course no one else saw it, but Price did. He always knew. “Dismissed Sargent.”

Your baby squealed with delight as she bounced in your arms. “Da! Da!” She yelled as Simon walked over, having heads turn to see the little baby showed her excitement. Simon did take note that she knew who he was and in fact used ‘dada.’

Simon almost damn near sprinted as he walked up to both of you. You let him take your baby as he grabbed her, she screamed laughed, as he rose her to the air. Holding her sides gently but firm. She is so tiny compared to him, she kicked her feet softly in the air, laughing her little head off. Simon loves that sound, the sound of pure joy coming from her. To the point he didn’t give a damn who was around them. Simon was never a shower when it came to his private life, but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was.

Simon sat across the table from you, your bump more noticeable, 6 months to be exact. He still couldn’t believe that what was growing inside you was his. Part of him. Something that he would have never thought would be done. Or have. You have become more aware and accepting of having the child. Yet he still hasn’t.

“I know it will take time Si,” You said knowing always what he was thinking. Simon snapped his eyes up at you, he felt guilt for sure. You were just honorable discharged and he stayed in the force. “I can’t make you feel happy about this. But…But I know eventually you will.”

He didn’t believe you until one night he laid between your legs as you rubbed the back of his head. Simon chuckled lightly at the tv show you were both watching right when it happened,felt a small poke to his head, he froze, you felt him tense. “What…what that?”

You giggled lowly as you rubbed your belly. “It’s the baby,” He still didn’t move when he felt it again. “She moves a lot when you make any sort of noise.” Simon rose slightly, looking up at you, curiously. You grabbed his hand and placed it where she was. His eyes trained on his hand. “Say something.” You whispered.

Simon looked at you unsure before clearing his throat. “Uh, hello baby girl.” It took a second before he felt the bump move to his hand. A soft graze. He snapped his eyes up at you and tears brimming your eyes, nodding. Encouraging him to continue. Simon’s eyes started to water, everything hitting, even when she isn’t out here she was wanting him. Knowing that he is her dad. And she was his baby.

His hand rubbed your belly. “‘Ight ass kicker. I’m happy to hear ya too.”

“Hello my angels,” He said as slowly held her close to him. Her head cradled inside of his neck. Her hands gripping his uniform. He placed a hand on the back of her hand holding her close. You smiled as he placed his other gloved hand on your cheek. “Why ya ‘ere?”

“I couldn’t wait at home,” You stated as people passed the both of you. “She couldn’t either,” you bumped your shoulder against his. “Told you it was dada.” You teased talking about the last time you both were on the phone. Her screaming ‘da da da,’ knowing damn well it was her daddy on the phone. Simon would tease and say that she got your intelligence since she was only 5 months.

Simon chuckled rolling his eyes, turning his head as she rose from his shoulder. She started towards his skull mask gripping the bottom of it. “Not yet sweethear,’” he whispered gently grabbing her hands. “We are gonna debrief it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Lass,” You laughed as the scottish came up from behind Simon. Slapping his back. “Oh well hello little miss.” He scratched softly underneath her chin. She laughed again shaking her head as she clung onto her dad. “Yer playing hard to get now?” He teased and looked at you.

“Hey Johnny,” You laughed reaching for your baby. She came to you with ease, which you mentally sighed in relief, hoping that she wouldn’t ball her little eyes out when she watched her dad leave. “We will wait on the cafeteria.”

Simon placed his forehead against yours. “It will be quick.” He whispered.

You nodded as you watched them all file into the base. Your baby holding onto you cooing. “Why don’t you ever get that excited to see me,” You playfully glared poking her stomach. She giggled swatting your finger away. “Brat.” You laughed taking her and you to the cafeteria.

6K notes · View notes

neferaskingdom · 3 months ago

Text

♡ Heart Eyes? More Like Death Glares | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Max and Y/N continue to pretend they absolutely, totally, 100% hate each other—like, seriously, they couldn’t possibly flirt less if they tried (spoiler: they’re not trying). Lando, George, and the rest of the grid are busy stirring the pot, calling out the obvious heart-eyes energy between them, while Max and Y/N would rather crash a golf cart into a wall than admit it. Instead of confessing, they resort to their usual routine of roasting each other online, dragging anyone who dares suggest they’re into each other. But hey, if threatening to run someone over with a golf cart isn’t romance, then what is?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: someone help me I can't stop writing. and thank you everyone for all the love 😭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 2 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series : Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Y/N and Max standing side by side at a paddock event, Max smirking while Y/N sticks her tongue out at him. Max’s arm is slung casually around her shoulders.

Caption: Guess I’ve decided to tolerate him. For now. But if he says one more thing about karting from 2006, I’m breaking his arm. 😘 maxverstappen1

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I’m more concerned about your aim with the trophies. Not the arm. 😬

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I throw trophies with purpose. You should be scared.

charles_leclerc:

Am I seeing this right? Are you two…tolerating each other? I’m disturbed.

↪ landonorris:

charles_leclerc This is either the start of a rom-com or a murder documentary. There is no in-between.

redbullracing:

Max surviving Y/N’s wrath one weekend at a time. #PrayForMax 🙏

scuderiaferrari:

Sorry, Y/N’s under our protection. 🔴

danielricciardo:

This is giving “enemies to friends to lovers” energy. Just saying. 👀

user1:

THEY’RE TOUCHING. PEOPLE. THEY. ARE. TOUCHING. 🔥🔥🔥

user2:

Y/N has him in a chokehold. This man used to talk about winning, now all he talks about is Y/N. 😂

user3:

MAX. SMILING. WHILE SHE THREATENS HIM?? SIR, DO YOU NEED HELP????

user4:

“Guess I’ve decided to tolerate him” OKAY BUT THAT’S 2024 LOVE LANGUAGE.

user5:

ARM AROUND HER SHOULDERS ARE WE JUST GONNA IGNORE THAT?

maxverstappen1 posted a photo:

📸: Max and Y/N standing in front of a karting track, Max holding a first-place trophy with a smug grin while Y/N rolls her eyes, holding second place.

Caption: She tried. #StillTheKing 🏆y/n_leclerc

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. I SWEAR. I WILL LAUNCH THAT TROPHY INTO THE STRATOSPHERE.

danielricciardo:

Max holding onto that 0.2-second win like his life depends on it. 😂

scuderiaferrari:

It’s a team sport, Y/N. We’ve got your back. 💪

↪ redbullracing:

Max doesn’t need backup, just speed. 😎

charles_leclerc:

I’ve never seen two people who love violence this much.

user6:

Y/N is gonna murder him in his sleep. You can see the murder in her eyes.

user7:

THE DRAMA. THE CHAOS. I need a live stream of this rivalry 24/7.

user8:

This man really can’t let the karting thing go, huh?

user9:

Not Max smiling like a kid who just stole candy, HELP. HE’S WHIPPED.

redbullracing tweeted:

We don't know if Max's biggest challenge this year is winning the championship or surviving Y/N's roasts.

Comments:

scuderiaferrari:

Y/N roasting Max is our favorite part of race weekends.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I mean, I do provide quality entertainment.

↪ maxverstappen1:

Yeah, at my expense. 🙄

danielricciardo:

Max getting roasted by Y/N has become my new personality trait.

user13:

MAX FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE OUT HERE, SEND HELP.

user14:

“Surviving Y/N’s roast battles” is a bigger challenge than Charles winning Monaco. FACTS.

user15:

I swear, if Y/N roasts him into confessing his feelings, I’m DONE. 💀

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: A blurry photo of Y/N sneaking up behind Max and putting bunny ears over his head during a team meeting. Max looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Caption: Stealth mode activated. maxverstappen1, you’re welcome. 🤡

Liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, landonorris, and 450,786 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You’re not as stealthy as you think, Y/N.

↪ y/n_leclerc

You were laughing, don’t even lie. 😏

redbullracing:

Max, blink twice if you need rescue.

scuderiaferrari:

We support this. 100%.

charles_leclerc:

This is becoming ridiculous. You two are like 12-year-olds at recess.

↪ landonorris:

charles_leclerc But like…flirty 12-year-olds.

user16:

The “I hate you but I’m gonna tease you all day” vibes are immaculate.

user17:

Imagine going from rivals to flirting openly on social media. Icon behavior.

user18:

Y/N’s gonna drag Max into the friend zone just to climb back out and wreck him emotionally. I’m CALLING IT.

y/n_leclerc posted a meme:

Caption: Max seeing literally anything and thinking it’s a win. Cute but tragic also hella fucking childish. 😏

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I am a winner. I can’t help it. 😎

↪ y/n_leclerc:

The only thing you win at is being a nuisance. Congrats. 👏

danielricciardo:

Y/N ROASTS MAX AND MAX JUST SMILES?? WHO GAVE THEM THIS MUCH POWER?

user22:

He’s literally simping at this point. Max, blink twice if you need help.

user23:

Not Max and Y/N roasting each other like an old married couple. Someone hold me.

user24:

I swear they’re gonna end up confessing through memes.

y/n_leclerc tweeted:

Max Verstappen? More like Max Disturben my peace. Can someone collect him before I accidentally run him over with a golf cart? 🙄

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You wouldn’t survive without me around to entertain you.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max, if I wanted entertainment, I’d watch Ferrari’s strategy team at work. They’re more chaotic than you.

↪ landonorris:

Wow, so now we’re dragging Ferrari and Max? This is getting spicy. 🌶️

↪ charles_leclerc:

landonorris She drags Ferrari on a daily basis. I’ve accepted it. 😤

georgerussell63:

Y/N would 100% aim for Max with a golf cart and miss, then blame it on the steering.

↪ danielricciardo:

George, don’t give her any ideas. We don’t need Max in a hospital bed because Y/N can't drive straight. 😂

scuderiaferrari:

We don’t condone violence, but if it’s Max… 👀

↪ redbullracing:

Nice try, Ferrari. Max is bulletproof.

user1:

MAX DISTURBEN OMG I CAN’T BREATHE. 💀

user2:

The fact that y/n_leclerc almost ran him over with a golf cart is PEAK romance. I love it here.

user3:

Ferrari roasting their own strategy, Y/N dragging Max, AND Lando just living for the drama? ICONIC.

danielricciardo posted a meme:

Caption: Me, 100%. Honestly, watching them trying to flirt is more entertaining than Netflix. 🤣

Liked by landonorris, georgerussell63, y/n_leclerc, and 650,420 others.

Comments:

pierregasly:

Welcome to the chaos, Danny. We have memes and bad decisions.

maxverstappen1:

Why is everyone so obsessed with this? We’re not flirting.

↪ georgerussell63:

Max, mate, your whole personality is flirting with Y/N at this point. Just own it.

↪ danielricciardo:

georgerussell63 He’s in denial. It’s kinda cute. 😇

landonorris:

This entire thing is funnier than watching Max try to figure out TikTok. 😂

user4:

NOT GEORGE SAYING MAX’S PERSONALITY IS FLIRTING LMAO. HELP, I CAN’T.

user5:

Daniel dropping the truth bombs like Ferrari drops strategy. 🔥

user6:

Max: "We’re not flirting." Also Max: keeps posting selfies with Y/N and calling it ‘winning.’ 💀

user7:

Okay but why did girly pop like this?!? y/n_leclerc explain this sus behaviour

scuderiaferrari tweeted:

Y/N’s roast game is as strong as our engines. 🔥

Comments:

redbullracing:

Your roast game might be strong, but Max still wins every race. 😎

↪ scuderiaferrari:

You can have the races, we’ll take the memes. It’s all about priorities. 💅

maxverstappen1:

Can I just drive in peace?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

You wouldn’t know peace if it hit you with a tire gun.

mclaren:

We’re just here for the memes and the chaos. Carry on. 👀

user7:

THE TEAMS GETTING INVOLVED IS SENDING ME. THIS IS NEXT LEVEL.

user8:

“Max still wins every race” OKAY RED BULL COMING IN HOT WITH THE SALT. 💀

user9:

This has turned into the F1 version of Mean Girls and I am OBSESSED.

landonorris tweeted:

At this point, Max and Y/N are flirting so aggressively that I feel like we’re all third-wheeling their relationship. It’s giving “enemies-to-lovers.”

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Lando, are you high? We’re not flirting. We’re fighting. There’s a difference. 🤨

↪ y/n_leclerc:

landonorris Excuse you?? Flirting?!? I don’t even like looking at Max. I’d rather become a papaya wearing norizz supporter. 😤

↪ mclaren:

y/n_leclerc why the sudden papaya slander?

↪ landonorris:

Sure…fighting…with heart eyes, but okay. 👀

↪ maxverstappen1:

landonorris Do I look like I have “heart eyes” to you? Lando, have you forgotten what I do for a living? I destroy things. Mainly Y/N’s patience.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Lando, blink twice if you’ve lost your mind. Max is as appealing to me as wet socks.

↪ GeorgeRussell63:

Is this fighting? It looks like denial to me. 😏

↪ y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63 Oh, I’ll fight you next, George. Keep testing me.

↪ maxverstappen1:

Yeah, George. Do you want to die?

landonorris:

Max threatening to fight people while Y/N fake-cries. The definition of an old married couple flirting and supporting each other

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX? FLIRT? With me?? Lando, I’ll race you backwards on a unicycle before I ever flirt with him. 🚫

↪ maxverstappen1:

landonorris The only “relationship” here is one where Y/N loses at everything. This isn’t flirting, this is winning. Learn the difference. 😎

↪ charles_leclerc:

This denial is strong. Like…Ferrari-level strong.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

charles_leclerc I WILL DELETE YOU FROM THE FAMILY. STOP THIS.

user1:

“I don’t even like looking at Max” is the funniest lie Y/N has ever told. 💀

user2:

The denial is STRONG in this one. They’re roasting everyone just to avoid the truth.

user3:

Max and Y/N: “We’re not flirting!” Also Max and Y/N: have entire conversations with heart eyes.

user4:

The way they’d rather start a fight than admit they’re into each other? ICONIC.

user5:

Y/N: “I’d rather become a papaya wearing norizz supporter.” OOF. That’s the kind of denial that needs therapy.

georgerussell63 posted a video:

🎥: George filming Y/N and Max mid-argument during a drivers’ briefing. Y/N is poking Max in the chest while Max smirks down at her.

Caption: Y/N and Max, doing what they do best: arguing like an old married couple. When’s the wedding? 💍

Liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, y/n_leclerc, and 700,432 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

GEORGE. DELETE THIS OR I’M SENDING YOU TO THE SHADOW REALM.

maxverstappen1:

You call this an argument? This is just foreplay. 😉

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX WHAT THE— TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW.

↪ charles_leclerc:

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY

↪ landonorris:

Max, you said that way too casually. What’s going on here? 👀

↪ alex_albon:

“Foreplay”? I just dropped my phone. Max, you’re playing with fire.

↪ georgerussell63:

Oh no, this is staying up. The internet needs to see it. 😂

redbullracing:

We’re not saying this is a Red Bull-sponsored relationship…but 👀

↪ scuderiaferrari:

Can we take credit for this relationship too? We did provide Y/N, after all. 🤔

↪ y/n_leclerc:

THERE IS NO RELATIONSHIP HERE YOU FUCKERS

user10:

DID MAX JUST SAY FOREPLAY? I CAN’T WITH THIS MAN, OMG. 💀

user11:

George stirring the pot is chef’s kiss. THE DRAMA.

user12:

Max has been WAITING to say something like that, I know it. The tension is REAL.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

817 notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 10 months ago

Text

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now.

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die.

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year ago

Text

A Guardian For All

TFP Optimus Prime x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Okay look, OP has a chokehold on me in all forms. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She’d somehow managed to become the in-resident mom, even though she was just in her junior year at college, after tracking down the three teens to the silo. To say it had been a surprise, to see and learn of the Autobots and the multitudes that came with the robots, would be an understatement. And yet, she fit right in, even with Miko’s constant, “She’s like a mom!” complaints.

Fortunate enough to be able to focus solely on schoolwork and not juggle a job, she was able to spend more time with the Autobots and learning about them. When the teens were there, she spent time utilizing the kitchen that was seemingly untouched by the Autobots—and why would they use it? They didn’t even consume human food. Often times, she made the three meals they had skipped in order to come to the silo and be with their guardians.

Guardians.

Jack had Arcee.

Miko had Bulkhead.

Raf had Bumblebee, and at times, Ratchet.

She didn’t have one.

Not that she needed one, of course. While she worried about the others running around with Decepticons, she felt it was the best course of action to not leave the silo all that much on missions. Typically, she stayed behind and helped Ratchet, well, when he decided he “needed” the help. She thought it didn’t bother her as much as it did until she was sitting up on the higher level, watching as the three teens played games and laughed with their guardians. Even Ratchet was smiling along with them.

“Are you in need of assistance?” A voice sounded beside her, and she blinked, looking over to meet Optimus’s gaze.

“Huh?”

He smiled easily. “You’ve been stuck on that page in your book for almost ten minutes.” His optics scanned the paper. “If I am correct, the answer for the question at the bottom is, ‘D. Administration of immunosuppressive medications.’”

She smiled, laughing with slight embarrassment, and shook her head. “Oh, no, the questions aren’t trouble.” Her eyes found the teens again. “I’m just…thinking.”

Optimus looked at the others with a calm look, an almost peacefulness. “Do you worry about them?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “But I know that they would never let anything happen to the kids.”

He looked back at her. “Then it is not the thought of them that is occupying your mind. What troubles you?”

Looking away, she scratched at her notebook. “It’s…not important, Optimus. Silly even.”

“If it is causing you this much time in thought, perhaps it is not something silly.”

Optimus was always the voice of reason, a testament to the eons of troubles he’d seen and experienced.

She let out a sigh and met his gaze once more, a bashful look on her face as she admitted, “I just sometimes think of what it would be like to have a guardian like they do, y’know? I mean, I don’t need one like Jack or Miko or Raf do, but…I don’t know, sometimes I just think it’d be nice to have that companionship, no, friendship like they do.” She waved a hand. “Just wishful thinking, Optimus.” When he didn’t respond, she looked over. “Optimus? Is everything okay?”

He seemed to be in deep thought himself but shook from it with a smile. “I’m fine, and I understand what you mean. Thank you for letting me know what troubled you. I am honored to have that trust.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Optimus,” she murmured with a flush and grabbed her things as Raf started calling for her. “Time to head home for the night.” Reaching out, she gently laid a hand on Optimus’s shoulder. “Thank you for listening to me, Optimus. Maybe when Wheeljack gets back he can be mine,” she joked and grinned when Optimus chuckled along and helped her down to the ground level.

“Perhaps.”

***

As the Christmas season reached its peak, schools had started letting out for the winter break. Most of her class at the local university had all left early for vacations out of state, but since she had no plans to leave Jasper for the holidays, she stayed through the end of the school week.

As she joked with the few remaining friends and acquaintances as they exited the building, one friend stopped and pointed at the truck parked by the street. “Woah,” they admired. “Whose ride is that?”

Her gaze turned to the truck and widened. “Optimus?” she quickly waved and hurried to him, opening the door and climbing in, shutting it behind her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, then she started worrying. “Oh no, are the kids okay? What happened? Who’s hurt?” frantically, she took out her phone, checking for missed calls or unseen texts. “Was it the Decepticons? Or was it MECH? Or was it—”

“Peace,” Optimus calmed as he pulled onto the street and drove through the town towards the base. “No one is hurt. No attack has occurred.”

Curiously, she looked at the steering wheel. “Then why…?” then it hit her and she sighed fondly. “Oh, Optimus, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I believe it is unfair to you to feel such a difference between the others when there are more than enough guardians left to be one of yours.” His voice was calm and easy like always. “It is…also nice to spend time with you outside of missions.”

She shifted into the driver’s seat and curled her legs underneath herself, leaning against the window. “That sounds like you like me, Optimus.”

“…Your companionship is desired long after you leave base,” he murmured and she smiled, looking at the steering wheel.

“I…feel the same,” she said and gently traced the Autobot symbol at the center. “Y’know Optimus…there’s a Christmas lightshow in the next couple cities over.” She shrugged slightly. “I think the others could hold down the base for a few hours while we were out…don’t you?”

He let out a hum. “We really shouldn’t stray too far from Jasper without them.” Just as she was about to sigh and nod, he added, “But I agree, they could survive without us for some time. Besides…I have never seen Christmas lights. I wonder if they’ll be as beautiful as you are.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his words and she looked out the window with a giddiness in her chest. “You’re just pulling my leg.”

“It would be dishonorable to lie, even more so to lie about the beauty you possess,” he replied, and she could just hear the grin in his voice. “Now, what was that city, and which way to it?”

#optimus prime x reader #optimus prime x reader imagines #optimus prime x reader imagine #optimus prime imagines #optimus prime imagine #optimus prime #optimus x reader #optimus x reader imagines #optimus x reader imagine #optimus imagines #optimus imagine #optimus #optimus prime tfp #tfp optimus prime #transformer #transformer prime #tfp

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dwaekkicidal · 7 months ago

Note

Dude your munch Felix has me in a chokehold I just need to hear one of Seungmin please 😩

hehe im glad u liked the felix one :3 & i got you!

fem!reader | warnings: messy oral (f receiving), overstim, spanking, (1) pvssy slap

Munch Masterlist

Munch!Seungmin who receives multiple images from you in his text messages: the first few being innocent pictures of you in your bed, in his shirt, and reading a book. but the others? they're more detailed pictures of what exactly you have under that shirt. or the lack thereof, i should say.

Munch!Seungmin who had the weekend off and tried spending quality time on day 1 with his maknae, but after a few hours he folds all too easily when more pictures were sent

Munch!Seungmin who accidentally opens them in front of the younger, then immediately finds himself separating from Jeongin a few hours earlier than planned to run rush to your apartment

Munch!Seungmin who uses his spare key to get in and immediately marches to your bedroom, walking in with a blank expression to where you lay on the bed reading the book and smiling at him sweetly

Munch!Seungmin who wordlessly lays on the bed between your legs, pushing them up by your thighs to rest as close to your chest as they can without being in the way of your book

Munch!Seungmin who ignores your questions in favor of curtly licking through your folds once, sighing happily at the familiar taste, then moving to nibble along your inner thigh

Munch!Seungmin who riles you for 10 long minutes, even going as far as to ignore you completely. he disregards your whines and complaints for him to 'hurry up' just so he can leave hickeys all over your thighs

Munch!Seungmin who will finally indulge the both of you after he's convinced you to hold your legs up without his help and to keep reading it (sometimes even making you read out loud)

Munch!Seungmin who is sweet with it for a while. he slowly makes out with your hole while his nose slides against your clit his hands caress your waist lovingly

Munch!Seungmin who only moves away from your hole to lick long stripes along your folds with his tongue flattened

Munch!Seungmin who mumbles into your pussy about how "You taste so good, pup." and "Keep reading or I'll fuckin stop."

Munch!Seungmin who brings you to your first orgasm of the night, pushing you over the edge by wrapping his pretty lips directly around your clit and sucking it

Munch!Seungmin who lets you ride out your orgasm by grinding against his mouth until you slow to a stop and pant below him, book still in hand though it's now completely forgotten about

Munch!Seungmin who shoves your book to the side, ignoring your complaint of the lack of a bookmark, and pushes your legs the rest of the way to your chest

Munch!Seungmin who sits up to hold you down and give himself an advantage over your shaking form as he returns his face to where he says it belongs (in between your legs)

Munch!Seungmin who overstimulates you like this, his face covered in your wetness as he pushes you to the point of painful pleasure

Munch!Seungmin who pulls his hands away from your hips only to land smacks to your ass cheeks when you try to push him away; the way you're folded gives him easy access without having to pull away from your sweet little cunt <3

Munch!Seungmin who, if you manage to pull your hips any distance away that removes his mouth from you, will pull away finally just to leave a slap to your pussy, rubbing over it a few times in apology

Munch!Seungmin who then adds his fingers in as a funishment, bullying your g-spot while he laps at your clit hungrily

Munch!Seungmin who will pull as many orgasms from you like this as you allow or as many as you can take without saying a safeword

Munch!Seungmin who only stops once he is satisfied; which usually means he's not stopping until you squirt AT LEAST once. though, depending on his mood, it might be more than once

Munch!Seungmin who keeps track of how many times you come each time he does this, and will try to break his record every. single. time.

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz drabbles #skz x reader #skz x reader smut #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin drabbles #seungmin x reader smut #munch!skz

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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

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Listen okay, your monster soulmate piece has a chokehold on me and my brain is whirring at a million miles a minute about monster tf141 x witch reader. Like the reader is introduced to them through Laswell and for them all its like a missing piece of their souls have clicked into place but reader is on the shyer side so they dont do anything (they also cant place just what she is yet, they know shes not a shifter but theres something supernatural about her) just yet waiting for her to warm up to them and well they're obviously very busy with the mission briefing and training the actual mission won't take place for a few weeks so over the weeks they all take their time to get to know her and for her to know them and its going well, in a few weeks they're as close as they can be in terms of friendship and just before the boys get on their choper to get them to the mission locations she makes sure she places little pins in their tactical gear and when Jonny asks "whats this bonnie" she just smiles at him and continues on to Kyle "is a dual protection and tracking charm, it will let me keep track of you on a map and will help keep you save.: shes a price by the time she finishes and she smiles up at him "i may not be a shifter but i am a damn powerful witch and i gotta keep my boys safe". Price cocks an eyebrow at her and smirks, "your boys huh?" She just nods and lets out an affirmative little uhuh "my boys, for now and forever". They all blush at her comment but Price bends down to her eye sight with an even bigger skirk, "does that mean we get a good luck kiss" she kisses his cheek gently "you'll get that and a whole lot more when you come back to be alive"

Shifter 141 and witch reader is literally this meme:

I love this tho sm 😫 if it’s a long mission they def do occasionally check to see if they still have your pins. Even better if the pins smell like you, means they can kiss it occasionally and just tell themselves they’ll drown you in kisses (and more ehe) when they are back home with you, safe and sound <33

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visionsofyouandme · 1 month ago

Text

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅɪꜱᴇᴀꜱᴇ

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel had been wandering for 100 years. Infected with an insatiable hunger, he finds you and decides he can’t let you go… Not again.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 5.9k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: DDDNE. (𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒, 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽). 𝖭𝗈 𝖮𝗎𝗍𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖠𝖴. 𝖵𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾!𝖩𝗈𝖾𝗅. 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄!𝖩𝗈𝖾𝗅. 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. Overly P𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾!Joel. 𝖯𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖠𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉 (𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 20𝗌-𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 30𝗌, Joel is late 40s-mid 50s). 𝖺𝖿𝖺𝖻!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝖭𝗈 physical 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 other than she has hair and wears a dress. 𝖩𝗈𝖾𝗅 has a 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒). 𝖠𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝖲𝖬𝖴𝖳 (+18, 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨) 𝖣𝖴𝖡 /𝖭𝖮𝖭𝖢𝖮𝖭 (𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 “𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝖾𝗅’𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅," 𝖩𝗈𝖾𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍). 𝖥𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖮𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀). 𝖯𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑. 𝖡𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽/𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖡𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄 (?). 𝖴𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏. 𝖢𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾. Let me know if I missed any tags!

𝙰/𝙽: Well, you asked, so I delivered. This one is absolutely insane imo. Never wrote anything so dark, but there are worse fics out there for sure. This for all you dark, disgusting vampire lovers as well as lovers of Joel Miller. This is a space to enjoy the depravity that is… well, this fic. And also, shout out to @toxicanonymity for their vampire!joel fics that started this whole ordeal… I blame you wholeheartedly and thank you in the same breath!!! (title from Lady Gaga's song "Disease," which was a huge inspiration for this fic as well!) Enjoy!

Everything filled your senses: the bass booming in your chest, the neon lights flashing above, the smell of sweat and spilled beer surrounding you as you danced and danced and danced.

It had been a good night so far- your friends had invited you out for a girls’ night out, and with it being Friday, you were not going to pass it up. It was a cool October evening, but the club offered plenty of warmth and bodies twisted this way and that to the music.

You did another dramatic sway of your hips as you danced to the music. Normally you weren’t one to try and impress anyone, but there was a broad figure that you felt had been watching you all night. You could make out a face, dark eyes tracking your movement around the club as you danced around, got drinks at the bar, went to the bathroom to freshen up. You had had a few drinks in your system, feeling a kind of way about the man’s gaze on you. Normally, if you were stone-cold sober, you’d be wary and worried. But, this man? He was… well, something else. Some kind of pressure that felt more like a chokehold, or like a magnet you couldn’t tear away from. A familiarity about him had taken over you, and it only piqued your interest.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder and saw him with his body halfway twisted your way, glass in hand, and his eyes that watched you with a certain hunger to them. He wasn’t trying to hide it, either, his head completely turned your way. You grinned and turned back to your friends, patting one on the shoulder and shouting over the music that you were going to get a drink. Breaking away, you made your way to the bar, intentionally weaving your way in and out, taking the long way to lose him and then come back to the bar to find him right where you left him. You slid into the space between a stool and his occupied one, leaning over to shout your order to the bartender over the music. You could feel his body next to yours, your side brushing his knee that jut out as he sat. You stood back on your heels, and looked at the man. You cocked an eyebrow, assessing him at breakneck speed: older, rugged, devastatingly handsome, and those eyes that just couldn’t tear themselves away from you. And a certain air that you felt you had recognized somewhat, but not completely. Your eyebrows betrayed your expression, tilting your head to the side.

“You look familiar!” you called over the music, and he took a sip of his drink, watching you from over the rim. A smirk tugged at his lips, and his sultry expression never strayed from you, tracking you like a hunter would its prey.

“So do you,” he called back, and set his drink on the counter, extending a hand, “I’m Joel.”

You looked down at his hand, and wanted to laugh. Oh, so he was a formal kind of guy? Funny. You steeled yourself and nodded, shaking his hand firmly and giving your name back. He nodded, his eyes finally moving away from your face and down your neck, to your chest where your dress showed off your cleavage well. Typical club attire for you, and it seemed to do the job it always did- reel the guys in. You grinned, and searched his face again, eyes moving over his aquiline nose, bearded face, and supple lips that were nearly hiding under a mustache.

Yeah, he was hot.

And so damn familiar.

Joel had been watching you for a while.

The club was not a place he would frequent on the regular, but he made an exception for you. Turns out it was actually a good feeding ground, with plenty of people to choose from, though intoxicated and under the influence of whatever else they had in their system. Not exactly healthy choices, but easy meals.

He had followed you here tonight after seeing you leave a dive bar with some friends, pretty usual for your Saturday evening. He wasn’t sure where you were going, unable to discern the conversation until you stepped outside of the bar. They excitedly name dropped the club, which you gladly agreed to with a grin. He told himself he would go to be a vigilant watcher, an ever present protector. Nothing more.

He had been exercising that mindset for a few months now.

He had first seen you at that same bar bar by chance. You didn’t see him, mostly because he wasn’t looking to be seen until he had made his selection for feeding that night. He was immediately taken with you, with the way you threw your head back and laughed, leaning forward as your friend told a story, watching the way you swallowed your beer, the perfect neck soft and smooth for his taking.

He hadn’t seen you in a long time. About 107 years, nearly to the day, to be exact.

Once, what felt like it could have been lifetimes ago, you two were in love. He was young, still human then, the world was changing rapidly, and had a bright future ahead of him. He met you after fate put you in his path, and it was love at first sight. You were younger, and he had the appeal of being someone older and willing to provide. It took all of 4 months to court you, and you were wed. You both had plans to build a life together: with a home, a family, and grow old together.

Joel would never get that dream that seemed like a fool’s hope at this point.

The first world war came, and immediately took him to work. When the United States entered the war, he enlisted and told you he would be back. He kissed you that night before leaving, made love to you, and when morning broke, you saw him off on the ship to take him to Europe. It was easily one of the worst days in both of your lives.

Things fell apart when he was serving in France one day. He remembered the exact day, because it was nearly the end of the war, and he couldn’t think of anything else other than to get back to you. Patrolling one night, he was in the company of a few men when they were attacked by some kind of violent force. All Joel knew was that when he awoke, he was left in the woods covered in gore, lost, confused, and in possession of an insatiable thirst for blood.

He fought the urges. He did. But, he couldn’t stave it off for long, having been surrounded by so much death and opportunity for feeding. He fed, and fed, and fed. The whole time he was longing to get back to you with every rip of flesh, every swallow of sanguine.

By some miracle he made it home, having been able to control his urges enough to get on a ship and sail back to the States. When he got there, you were gone.

An accident, they said. You and your father had taken a car down a winding road and lost control- your father lived. You did not.

He was in anguish then. He cursed the Lord above, for keeping him away for so long, for taking you and your future away, for making him whatever this was that he had to live with.

So, he wandered. For years and years and years, thinking all was lost. Bullets wouldn’t do the trick, neither did the depths of the ocean. He didn’t know what exactly was keeping him alive at this point, but soon he just learned to survive. Spite, maybe, to the man upstairs made him continue on. Showing Him that Joel could live despite all the pain he’s been put through.

And when he saw you that night in the bar, everything was turned on its head. When he saw you, his heart and mind recognized you instantly. You looked beautiful, the same- same shade of lovely hair, your colorful eyes shining, the bar casting a shadow on your skin. His instincts kicked in, and he knew he would do anything to protect you. So, he watched. Waited.

He would make sure you got home safely from work. Deter any unsavory men from following you home from the bar. Made sure you turned off your stove and your lights when you left home.

A little home invasion? Well, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

He found himself prowling your apartment on days you worked. He would sit on your couch, browse your music collection, and find out what coffee mug you favored above all others by the way they were used. He liked being in your space- it was the closest thing he felt to home in years.

He would leave knowing what time you came back from work, waiting to follow you home. He never understood why you walked, especially with the days drawing shorter. He knew you had pepper spray, but he knew that would do little to defend yourself from an adversary.

One night, he wasn’t the only one watching you.

A man you had walked past a block ago followed behind you by a few feet, and Joel could see him clearly under the streetlights. The man was trying to be inconspicuous, weaving in and out of the people and keeping a safe distance from your lone figure. When he got too close, Joel knew had to act.

Joel shoved him into an alleyway, knowing you were only two minutes from your apartment. He told himself you could handle that, and get inside safely.

Without much hesitation, he sunk his teeth into the man’s jugular and ripped. It wasn’t a very noble kill, but what was considered one these days? Draining the man of his lifeforce in the alley, he walked out to see you shut the door behind you as you entered the complex.

All of that watching and waiting and pining. And here you were, coming up to him.

“You look familiar!”

He smiled at this. Of course you’d remember, even if it was just faint. He never knew he would find his way back to you, not in this lifetime, anyway.

He was over the moon, and he was determined to make the most of it.

He introduced himself, and your hand was so delicate and balmy within his own. He wanted to laugh, knowing you were blissfully unaware of the fact his own hand had deprived a sleazy ex of yours the air from his lungs. He didn’t kill this one, but left him with a warning- leave you alone, or else he would come to regret it and pay with his life for it. He felt merciful that day.

The way your eyes just watched him with intense curiosity, sparkling with desire and interest, made his stomach flip. He remembered feeling this way the first time he had met you all those years ago- the way you smiled and extended your hand like you did just now. Only you were more subtle then. Softer.

This version, a more pronounced and audacious one, was exciting. But, he knew you were all the same deep within your soul.

“You know,” you said, cocking an eyebrow. “If you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you teased, a smirk on your lips and he shook his head, picking up his glass again.

“That obvious, huh?” he chuckled, and you grinned, shrugging as you leaned against the bar.

“I mean, I know I’m a catch, but you seem awfully eager.” you said, and he zeroed in on your face, then body. He could hear the blood rushing in your veins, heart pounding with the bass of the music, smelling the saltiness of your sweat that he could recognize in a sea of others.

“Well, when I see something so beautiful, it’s hard to look away.” he said, and you rolled your eyes but the smile never left your face. He took his drink in hand, downing the rest. Though he couldn’t feel a single thing of the whiskey he had ordered, he had to maintain appearances. You smirked, and glanced around, then back to him.

“Meet me outside?” you questioned, and he raised his eyebrows. Awfully bold of you, he thought, but he shrugged nonchalantly, but the grin on his face was telling. You were so willing to be alone with him, that he would struggle to contain himself. But he would, he had to, if he was going to keep you close.

“If you’d like.” he said, and you nodded, pushing off the bar with a wink, and sauntered away. His eyes tracked you until he lost you in the sea of people. When the bartender slid the drink to your empty space, Joel gestured for him to put it on his tab, and stood up, closing out.

He knew damn well neither you nor him would be back tonight, not if he could help it.

You were leaning against the front wall of the club outside, the music still booming inside, the heat seeping off of your skin in the cool air of the night. Your bag on your shoulder, you had excused yourself from your friends who seemed hesitant at first, but you assured them you weren’t going to home with him, and had your phone location on. They gave you uneasy smiles, having been aware of the man watching you that night, but they waved you goodbye and made you promise to text when you got home.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall, letting the sweat dry on your forehead and chest. You only hoped he wouldn’t think you were completely gross, but this was a club- anyone who had been inside wouldn’t be in their best state.

A voice called you back to reality by extending your name, and you looked over to see Joel coming out, a silhouette of broad shoulders and curls that you could make out in the streetlamp’s light.

“Hopefully I didn’t disturb you.” he chuckled, coming to your side. You tilted your head up at him. He was taller than you, broader than you, and you could only wonder with a hazy mind what was in store for you.

“Not at all. I was catching my breath. Dancing is no easy feat.” you laughed, and pushed off the wall. He smiled, and you could get a whiff of his cologne that nearly made your knees buckle. It was strong, stiff, musky, and like a man. It also smelled incredibly familiar. What was it about this man that drew you in? And why did you feel like you already knew him?

“Well, you make it seem easy, sweetheart.”

You pushed the thoughts from your mind, and took a step closer to him until you were nearly brushing your chest against his sternum. He placed a hand around you, curling around the small of your back. His lips hovered over yours, and you felt your heart hammer in your chest. You could have sworn he was going to kiss you, and you wanted it so bad that it almost hurt. You licked your lower lip in anticipation, your hand coming up to rest on the expanse of his chest.

But, a flash of headlights made him turn his head away, and your eyes fluttered shut in disappointment. You were about to pull him down and kiss him yourself, when he spoke.

“I believe that’s us,” and your eyes flew open, looking up at him in curiosity and surprise. You were expecting some kind of quickie in the back alley, but definitely not going with him anywhere. You bit your lower lip, and he looked down at you, his other hand moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear. He held your face then, and suddenly all worries melted away.

“Come on.” he said gently, and helped you into the Lyft. You felt weightless, and giddy, but quickly came to when the door shut and the gaze was severed between you. You quickly gave your address to the driver, feeling a slight fear of the idea of going to a strange man’s house. He could be a serial killer, for all you know. At least if he murders you, it’ll be in your own home where people could (hopefully) find you.

Joel climbed in beside you, and had heard you give the driver your address. He reached over and took your hand gently, giving your knuckles a kiss and meeting your eyes. When you looked at him, that nervousness melted away once more.

The drive was shorter than you expected, or maybe you were just so taken with excitement that you didn’t notice. Making your way inside and to the elevator, that’s when Joel turned to you and you moved your head just in time for him to crash his lips against yours. You turned your body to face him quickly, and felt him back you up against the elevator wall. You made a slight noise of surprise, and he pulled away all too soon as the doors opened when they reached your apartment level on the fourth floor. He took your hand gently, and you led him down the hall, practically dragging him.

Fumbling with your keys with shaking hands, he stood behind you and looked both ways down the hallway. You finally wrestled the door open, and stepped inside, flipping on the hallway light. You set down your bag on the entryway table, and turned to only have Joel pounce on you like he did in the elevator. The suddenness of it all knocked the wind out of you, and you nearly collapsed into the wall. He held you up with strong arms, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head was spinning, and you let out another sound, but this one of want and desire.

You tasted so goddamn sweet.

Joel devoured your lips hungrily, sliding his tongue into your mouth without much permission, but you welcomed it eagerly. He held you against the wall, your heart beating so fast that he thought you might burst. His hand moved down your side, sliding over your black dress. It was tight, so form fitting, making every curve pronounced and making him feel absolutely wild. It was like a deep, compartmentalized instinct had surfaced at breakneck speed, and he wanted to feel every inch of you, outside and within.

He bent down to pull a leg of yours around his waist, your core pressed up against his aching cock that called for you in the confines of his jeans. He ground his hips into yours, the familiarity of it coming back like a repressed memory. He felt a groan lodge in his throat, but stamped it down. He wanted to make you feel good, knowing you hadn’t had anyone in your bed in months (he made sure of that). He wanted to be the final person you let between your legs, determined to make you forget anyone else that was before him. He wanted to absolutely ruin you, make you know that you were his. You may not realize it now, but he would plant that seed in your mind.

As he felt your heat press against him, he could feel the wetness of you seeping through your thin underwear and onto his pants. He kissed you once more, deeply, his hands wandering down your thighs until his body followed suit. As he was now eye level with your pelvis, he began to raise your dress up your legs, thighs, then hips. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the lacy white of your panties, he swallowed. He knew you weren’t pure like you were when he first met you, but it still stirred something deep within him.

He glanced up at you to see you looking down at him with heavy lidded eyes, parted swollen lips. He smiled softly, and hooked a finger under your panties and pulled them down to your feet. When you shook them off, he entered a finger within you, finding you absolutely soaked, and heard you moan softly. He had barely touched you and you were responding like a woman starved, deprived, needy.

Just the way he wanted you.

He added another and moved them in and out, gazing up at you with an alluring look in his eyes. A smile spread on his face when he saw your face twist with pleasure. And that’s when he pulled his fingers back, much to your disappointment, but then let his lips meet your clit with the ghost of a kiss.

Feeling you go rigid beneath him, he held onto one of your thighs and put it over his shoulder, thankful he was undead because the position would have put too much pressure on his knees. He shifted, making it easier for you to relax against the wall and on his body. He licked a long languid stripe up your folds, and could taste how wet you were. You were soaked for him. For him.

God, he was going to go absolutely mad.

Your moans and the sound of his tongue and mouth pleasuring you filled the small hallway, everything feeling small, confined… intimate. He would have liked to lay you out on a plush bed and eat you out that way, but he knew he couldn’t make it that far. Not when he had you so close now.

He let his tongue slide up and down your folds, licking up your wetness, his nose pressing into your clit and he felt your hand fly to his hair. Your hips moved gently to meet his face, but he stilled you with a hand on your lower stomach. He felt a flinch there, and knew you were close.

He hummed against your pussy, and you whined softly. He stole a glance up and saw your head was pushed back against the wall, upturned to the heavens. He wanted to see you come, but he knew he would have plenty of opportunities in the future.

The lewd sounds of his tongue continued, and he felt your pelvis twitch under his touch. You were close.

“Joel- I’m gonna-” you panted, hand holding him tight in his hair.

He began to taste something a bit different on his tongue, but refused to stop. He didn’t want to, absolutely couldn’t, no matter what he did. When he felt you shudder and cry out, hand gripping tight on his hair, he lapped up your spend as it flooded out and something else.

Blood. Mixed with your cum.

You had started your period.

He suddenly was a man gone feral, hand gripping your hip near bruisingly and the other pressing down on your pelvis in an attempt to produce more. He knew if you found out about this, you would be horrified. But, he reveled in it. Tasting you in a way he never had before, in a way he didn’t know he craved. He drank up every bit, swallowing thickly, the scarlet liquid sliding down his throat as well as your come.

He felt you relax against the wall, and he wiped his mouth of the evidence, licking his palm where it had collected, then his fingers as he gently set your leg straight, letting your dress fall and rose to his feet, his form pressing you against the wall to keep you upright. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, and lifted his head even as your lips chased his own. He wouldn’t ruin this moment because of what had transpired unbeknownst to you.

“Can you go to the bedroom? Take off your clothes for me, hm?” he questioned, needing to buy himself just a second of time. You looked up at him with a pout, and he knew you would want him to do the honors, but you nodded dutifully, and he broke away. He watched you walk as steadily as you could to your room, and he immediately headed to the kitchen. Finding a glass in your cabinet right where he knew it would be, he filled it with water and swallowed until he was sufficiently flushed of your crimson.

He walked to the bedroom and saw you about to take off your bra, and he came up behind you and pulled you against his body. You relaxed into him so compliantly, head leaning back on his shoulder. He reached up and undid your bra himself, still keeping your body pressed against his clothed chest. His hand immediately moved to cup your breast, kneading it lightly and you let out a strained whine. If he knew anything, he knew you were sore, hurting from your time of the month. Everything was working in his favor tonight, and he wasted no time enjoying every second.

He bent his head down and kissed your neck lightly, one hand on your hip while the other fondled you. Your hand moved back and threaded through his hair, and he groaned into your skin. You began to grind against him, and he could hear your blood coursing underneath your pulse point. Just a little bite, that’s all it would take to taste you again. He wondered if you would even notice.

You moved in his arms and turned to him, hands flying to his shirt and began unbuttoning hurriedly. He chuckled, and kept his hands resting on your waist, watching as you struggled to concentrate as you undressed him. His cock jerked in his jeans at the sight, and he moved his hips against yours, and saw your eyebrows flinch with anticipation.

“Good girl. So good f’me.” he murmured as you managed to reach the last button, pushing it off of his shoulders. He pulled his undershirt off, exposing his broad, coarsely-haired chest. Your hands flew to it, moving up the solid expanse of skin, your eyes wide with reverence.

He put a hand over one of them, and raised it to kiss your fingertips gently. He searched your eyes, so much he was wanting to say. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Waited for you for so long. I found you again. I’m going to make you mine.

But, he settled for leaning down to give you a hard kiss, breathing through his nose harshly as he backed you up to the bed. Pushing you down gently, he reached down to undo his belt buckle but your hands flew to it, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Let me do it. Please.” you said, your voice soft and wanting. His hands dropped, and a soft smile graced his lips, raising a hand to brush his thumb against your cheek. Taking this as a sign to move forward, you made quick work of pulling the belt off and pushing his pants down his legs. When his achingly hard cock met your eye line, he could see your eyes take it in. He could see you lick your lips at the sight of his stiff member that already leaked liquid from the tip. He nearly came in his pants eating you out, and he knew he wouldn’t last long from being inside you.

“You see? All for you. Drivin’ me crazy. Fuck-”

Countless nights of fisting his cock, thinking of your hand instead of his, your mouth, your wet cunt. Every image would drive him over the edge, making him come hard every. Single. Time.

He knew he was going to border on life and death, now that you were actually here, in front of him.

You dove in and took him in your mouth in one swift move, causing him to hiss and a hand flying to your hair. You gagged at the sudden fullness, but refused to withdraw. He was slowly ticking off every box of the things he wanted to experience with you. But, there would still be much more to come.

He grit his teeth as your wet mouth took every inch of him, and he was impressed you could do so. He felt his tip hit the back of your throat and heard you make a noise, and he began to pull you away but you latched onto his hips, keeping him close. On your knees in front of him, sucking him off to oblivion, eyes turning up to him with tears brimming, wide with lust.

He slowly began to thrust into you, but felt that heat and tightness growing in his lower abdomen. As much as he was enjoying this, he finally forced you off and pulled your head to tilt up to him, a small frown on your face.

“Move back. Lay down.” he breathed, the order making your eyes glassy and you did as you were told. He climbed after you, settling his hips between yours. He looked down at you, a hand propping himself up as another reached down to touch your clit gently. Your body jerked, face twisting with overstimulation. He leaned down to kiss your jaw, moving up and down the bone.

“I want you to enjoy this, okay?” he questioned, and you nodded against his lips. He ground his hips into yours, and you sucked in a deep breath, one arm moving around his back as the other flew to the side of his neck. He moved back to kiss your lips, and you slipped your tongue into his mouth that he accepted gladly. Maybe you needed this just as bad as him.

He gave a few more movements of his hips against yours, moving his hand from your clit to his member.

“Please, Joel. I need- I need you. Inside.” you pleaded quietly, and he nodded, not bothering to look down as he angled himself to your entrance. He knew exactly where it laid, and how much to feed you to make you squirm.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” he cooed, and kissed your lips gently before letting the tip slide into the wetness. Lips parting under his mouth, he shifted and your mouth formed into an ‘O’, and gave you another inch. You lifted your hips to meet his, but he anticipated the move and withdrew just a bit, causing you to moan in frustration. Your hand moved from his neck to his hair, gripping him tightly in warning, like if he didn’t give you what you wanted, you would rip it out.

“Easy. Gotta go slow, don’t wanna hurt ya.” he mumbled, moving up slightly to meet your eyes, watching your reaction as he slid in. Bit by bit. Until finally, he was fully sheathed inside, snug and warm in your tightness, and he could see your face twist between pain and pleasure. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he began to move slowly, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Shit, Joel… feels so fucking good.” you whined, and he moved his hips a bit faster as you tightened around him. He grinned at your responsiveness, and peppered your neck with kisses as he moved down to your clavicle. Just one tiny, miniscule bite… He just wanted more-

He kissed you hard, deep, and took your bottom lip in his teeth and bit down just a bit. You may have felt a pinch, and you flinched slightly but moaned. The smallest bit of blood seeped out, and he dragged his tongue over the wound. The need and want only increased tenfold, and God, he would not be able to walk away from you after tonight.

His pelvis ground against yours, coarse hair rubbing against your clit and he took his free hand to push your hair back as it attempted to stick to your temple due to sweat. He leaned his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, your essence, your perfume that was barely discernible. His hips got more erratic, and he was trying to stave himself off, but it was getting harder and harder as you pulsed around him every second.

You captured his lips again, and your legs tightened around him, keeping him flush against you. He moved his hips to brush against your clit once more, and you finally tightened around him hard enough to almost suffocate his cock as your spend coated his cock and his pelvis, leaving a white ring around him.

“That’s it. Good girl… Gonna make you mine. All mine.” he hissed, leaning his head into your neck as the force of his thrusts increased, the bed shifting underneath you two. He chased his high to its peak, and you could feel it. Your legs loosened gently, but his hand flew to your knee and held you there. He wouldn’t let you get away.

“Just- um, just pull o-” you tried to manage but it was too late. His hot come painted your walls with so much force and so heavily that he thought your stomach would swell with it. He kept thrusting, feeling his tip hit your cervix and let his come flood your womb. He missed the feeling so much, the power and pleasure it made him feel. He heard you whine underneath him, and he slowed down, finally lifting his head to give you a kiss, pulling out finally and moved his hand to your cunt.

“I’m sorry…” he said softly, though he was anything but. He could see your face, and how pained it looked, and worried. He moved his hand to cup your face,

“You’re on the pill, right?” he questioned, knowing it was probably a bit too late to ask, but you nodded gently. He nodded in return, and kissed your forehead gently,

“It’ll be okay, you’ll be alright.” he murmured, quiet and assuring and he felt your hand move to his wrist. He thought you would push him away, but you didn’t. He kissed your lips gently, and he could tell your mind was racing a million miles a minute, probably coming down from the high that you two had experienced together. He moved to his side, finally getting up and pulling away. He walked to your bathroom, and found a washcloth to wet and bring it back, wiping you and him down, thankful for the dark setting as he could see some of your blood mixed with yours and his spend on his pelvis and your inner thighs. He could feel you twitch underneath him, and he massaged your thigh gently, tossing it to the side and lay next to you. He pulled you close, and you turned your face to his neck.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise,” he murmurs into your hair, leaving a kiss there. You sighed, your body resigning itself from the intensity experienced as you began to drift off to sleep.

He stayed awake, promising you and himself, that nothing would befall you. He would be here, keeping you safe, protecting you like he couldn’t do all of those years ago. He wouldn’t abandon you, would never leave you. Not now, not later, never.

He would have you, no matter what. And he will never, ever let you go.

Hope you all enjoy the depravity... don’t forget to comment/like/reblog💕

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x ofc #joel miler fanfiction #vampire!joel #hbo joel miller #dark!joel #darkfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #visionsfics

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cod-dump · 1 year ago

Note

Your teen au has me in a chokehold so I thought I would add something to it

Gaz, Ghost, and Farah steal each other’s clothes all the time like one day Gaz could walk in wearing Ghosts favorite band tee or Farah wearing Gaz’s iconic hat or ghost stealing a pair of socks from Farah

They also do this with price and Nikolai

At some point everyone has worn price’s fishing hat (I think it might be more of a bucket hat) ghost has worn Nikolai’s combat boots (they’re the same shoe size) Farah wears price’s T shirts and Gaz like to do a combo and wear price’s pants and Nikolai’s shirts

Nikolai at first didn’t like his stuff being stolen until one day everyone was wearing something from Nikolai and he just chose defeat.

(P.s ghost has accidentally wore one of Alex’s shirts because he thought that’s it was Gaz’s and when Price questioned him about it he said the first thing that’s came to mind and it’s was that’s the shirt belonged to soap.)

-🫠

Thief (teen!Ghost au)

———

Living in a house of three teenagers meant no one’s clothes were safe. They mostly stole from each other, sometimes out if spite, sometimes because they couldn’t find anything they wanted to wear. Or because they simply just want whatever it is that had caught their eye.

“SIMON THOSE ARE MY SOCKS!”

“YOU LEFT FUZZY SOCKS UNGUARDED AND YOU’RE SURPRISED I GRABBED THEM?”

Nikolai was used to the yelling over stolen clothes given the kids were starting to gravitate towards stealing John’s clothes… which meant his were next. He just knew one of them were going to grab something of his, he’s seen Simon eying his bomber jacket.

“Simon, no.”

He’s thankful for being practically immune to Simon’s tactical puppy eyes by this point, much to the kid’s annoyance. Unless he was genuinely upset, nothing he could do would get Nik to bow.

“Niiiiik, pleeaaasssseeeee— I wanna look good for Johnny on our date!”

Nik snorts, “You could be covered in horseshit and that boy would still look at you like you hung the stars.”

Simon tries to argue but Nik reached over and flicked his nose, the boy jerking away and shutting his mouth in response. The glare that followed made Nik remember who he was dealing with: Simon Price.

Simon said nothing more as he stalked away into the house, Nik certain he just invoked the boy’s wrath. He wasn’t scared but he was worried because Simon could get creative… and spiteful. So he was sure to tuck his jacket away in his SUV before settling down with John in bed that night to watch a movie. Nik was close to falling asleep, John was already tucked into his side, completely oblivious to the movie by this point but refusing to fall asleep.

If it had happened a moment later, he wouldn’t have caught it. It wasn’t a noticeable sound by any means, but Nik noticed. He knew what it was too— His car door being shut as quietly as possible. He felt his eye twitch, eyes looking over to where his keys rested on the dresser.

That brat broke into my car.

Nik, of course, was angry that someone broke into his SUV… but he was also a bit proud that Simon was the one to do it successfully without setting off the alarm.

Nik carefully slid out of bed, John grumbling at him leaving before he flopped over where Nik was laying and almost instantly fell asleep. Nik just snorts before he went to slid his boots on, quickly discovering that they were missing. He blinked before he realized where they were.

“Oh, so we raised a thief,” John made a curious grunt at that, a sign that he heard Nik say something, but the fact he just went back to sleep showed that he didn’t register any of Nik’s words.

He ended up grabbing some tennis shoes before leaving, determined to figure what Simon was up to. He had to grab one of John’s jackets considering he knows his bomber had been snatched. He went out to his SUV, glaring at the apparently undisturbed vehicle. Simon was nowhere in sight and Nik had no choice but to wait for him to come back… Well, he did have a choice but he didn’t feel like tracking down the kid.

So he returned to bed, deciding that he’ll have a chat with Simon in the morning.

Nik was the first up, heading straight to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. He noticed that his boots had been returned so Nik assumed his jacket had also been returned. A second time Simon had managed to get into Nik’s SUV without setting off the alarm. Where did he learn to do that? From his friends?

Nikolai was deep in thought, glaring at the brewing coffee pot as John walked into the kitchen with a yawn. He was greeted with a kiss to his shoulder before John went to grab mugs for the coffee.

“What did that brewer do to you?” John joked as he slid Nik’s favorite mug on the counter in front of him.

“Hm? Oh, nothing I’m just thinking.”

“Well, don’t think too hard or you’ll scare the thing into not wanting to work.”

“Eh, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“… On a second thought, break it. I need a new one, anyways… especially after the ramen incident with Simon.”

Nikolai snickers, hearing someone come down the stairs with a light yet heavy step. Farah, barely awake, walks into the kitchen a grunts a ‘morning’ before sitting down into a chair.

“Is the coffee ready?”

“Farah-“

“I’m an adult!”

Nikolai could hear the boys moving around upstairs, knowing that they probably won’t come down until they smell food. Nik hums before he pours himself a cup of coffee, blowing on it as he steps away from the coffee maker.

“I need to check my email.”

No one said anything as he left, heading upstairs to have a talk with Simon. He knocked on Kyle’s door as he passed, “Go help your dad with breakfast.”

A tired whine was his immediate response, “Niiiik-“

“I could do it, and burn everything. Or Farah can do it and make it spicy-“

Kyle liked spice, Nik liked spice and so did John— Farah’s spice tolerance was terrifying. John handled it better than the rest of them but it would be a lot for breakfast. Kyle left his room rather quickly, almost slipping down the stairs in the process.

“Slow, Kyle!”

“I’m fine!”

Nik makes sure Kyle gets down the stairs safely before he moved on to Simon’s room. He knocked on the door, a muffled grunt and Riley barking answering him a moment later. Nik opens the door and there was Simon, buried under his mountain of blankets and Riley in his play pen, jumping around with his tail wagging when he saw Nik. Nik closed the door and sipped his coffee before he set it on the TV stand.

Simon poked his head out from under the blankets, hair poking everywhere and worn eyeliner that he clearly forgot to wipe off smeared around his eyes. He stared at Nik in confusion while Nik just leaned on his door with a knowing smirk. Simon blinked before his eyes widened, sitting up quickly and throwing a few blankets to the floor as he did.

“M-morning, Nik…”

“Late night?”

Simon’s eyes flickered to his closet before he forces himself to look at Nik, “No…”

“Hmm… You sure?”

Nik moved towards the closet and Simon scrambled off the bed to grab him. Nik groaned when Simon grabbed him around the middle, when did he get so big? He used to be just a tiny boy, where did this guy come from?

Nik wrestled Simon for a moment, trying to pry him off so he can get to the closet. He managed to throw Simon back on his bed, freezing for a moment because he was certain Simon was going to bounce off and into the wall. Thankfully he didn’t, stunning him and allowing Nikolai to swing open his closet door.

“Oh? What’s this? My jacket!?”

Nik grabs his bomber jacket, presenting it to Simon. Simon was pale, eying his door and window. Nik tucked his jacket under his arm before he made a face at Simon, waiting for him to start talking.

“I snuck out last night to go to a party with Johnny.”

Nik blinked, “A party?”

Simon was not a party kid. Sure, he hung out with Alejandro and their friends but Nik couldn’t recall them ever partying.

“Yea— I wanted to look cool so I borrowed your jacket!”

“And my boots.”

Simon gawks, truly horrified that Nik knew about the boots, “I-I brought them back! Please don’t tell Dad!”

Nik stares at him, looking to the whining Riley before he steps over to Simon, “Fine, I won’t tell your dad… if you tell me where you learned how to break into cars.”

“I-I-“

“Was it that hooligan friend of yours?”

Simon lightens up, “Ale doesn’t like it when you call him that.”

“Well, that’s what he is so he should get over it.”

Simon snorts, “No, it wasn’t Ale… Uh-“

“Simon-“

“… It was Johnny.”

Nik makes a face, “Johnny? Your good little Catholic boyfriend?”

“His dad’s a mechanic so he knows how to poke around cars.”

“And he taught you how to do it?”

Simon wouldn’t meet Nik’s eyes, fear in his eyes. Nikolai just huffed, truly impressed, “That’s a keeper.”

Simon blinked and looked up at Nik, “What?”

“That boy managed to get you to sit down and learn something new! You’re so hard to teach new things, let alone wiring and car mechanics! He’s a keeper!”

Simon bites lip, holding back a big smile. Riley finally let out a loud, high pitched bark, tired of being ignored. Nik reaches over and tries to smooth and tame Simon’s hair before his grabbed Simon’s ear in a pinch.

“OW! NIK!”

“That’s for stealing my shit. Now go take Riley out before he explodes.”

Simon jumps up and goes to get Riley, Nik opening the door and letting the boy run through with the squirming puppy. Simon went down the stairs at a nerve-racking speed before he took Riley to the back door to let him into the back garden. Breakfast was almost done, Kyle and John just waiting for Nik and Simon to join Farah at the table.

“What was with the thumping upstairs?”

Nik just grinned, “Waking up Simon.”

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i-love-you-just-the-same · 8 months ago

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alright sleep token and 141 type collab because brain rot (tldr: 141 are a masked man rock band)

soap always wanted to be in a band. gaz thought it was something cool to try. price played drums in highschool. and ghost of course introduced the aire of mystic that made them really take off.

def have a good fanbase of punks and their girlfriends. they get a lot of interest because of the unique sound and also. hot guys in masks brain go brrrrrrrrr...

totally see gaz and soap interacting with the crowd and the pretty girls that catch their eyes. totally singing something like "show me those pretty white jaws" and caressing someones throat in the crowd (actual sleep token lyric... this was a dream to think about). def have people trying to figure out their identities so they can try to call them up.

gaz for sure finds a girl at a little bar showing in the beginning that he tracks down in daylight to ask her on a little date. ends up being surprised by her with tickets to his own bands concert. needs to show him the appeal of her favorite member. ends up having soap and ghost beat the shit out of him after the concert to have a good excuse for flaking. def puts tidbits in one of the songs about her that she totally freaks about because "shes exactly his type!" yeah baby you are.

ghost probably writes a lot of the lyrics for their songs. def is thinking of some birdie that he thinks is "the one that got away" when he writes shit like "i'm still full of the love you want / i reach for you on faith alone." happens to see her at one of their concerts and obviously she doesnt know its him, mask in all, but he still gets her vip tickets or ones in the nosebleeds. takes more of a part in crowd pleasing, confusing the fuck out of soap and gaz.

price is more of the stressed punk dad. keeping gaz and soap contained while helping ghost with lyrics and keeping up with everything else with the band is a lot but he loves his boys. def got a few piercings when he was younger that he will not share with the class no matter how much soap begs (eyebrow and three cartilage.... but also be creative). def still has a septum piercing he pretends is a fake (only ghost knows).

price convinces ghost to give it a go with this bird he writes about. just let him come with ghost to scope her out again. scare off any new boyfriend looming around the corner. needs to be sure his boy is well taken care of.

sleep token songs mentioned: jaws and the love you want

def writing about this again sleep token type 141.... shewwww. def didnt get their vibe completely right but no one can do sleep token like sleep token yk (masked british men have me in a 'chokehold' :) )

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spadesolace · 11 months ago

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mine - college au! chaeryeong x fem! reader

chaeryeong is sweet girl with no ill intentions but you're both unsure what to do anymore once you've crossed the line of friends and dating.

warning/s: mentions of drinking, suggestive, friends with benefits

words: 2.1k

what’s it like to keep falling after being caught time and time again?

there she stood in the middle of the dance floor as you held both your drinks as your friends and hers celebrated the night before valentine’s day at a club. why did you even agree to this?

chaeryeong had to persuade you into coming, considering it was your friend group that decided to merge and go out together. oh right… partially it’s because of her.

you’ve lost count on how many shots you’ve done or how many glasses of gin and tonic is in your system. mouth sealed as people try to flirt with her and fortunately for you, she’s breaking their hearts left and right. one last attempt to celebrate valentine’s with someone.

“dude, she’s gonna melt if you keep looking at her like that.” minjeong nudges you to shake you up and not possibly start a fight in the club just because someone is flirting with chaeryeong.

“i want her to look at me. her drink is so fucking diluted now.” the cocktail she got is mostly water at this point while you’re getting another shot being offered to you.

“she’s looking at you after she rejects those losers. seriously, i thought your whole whatever the fuck is going on between you two would be settled.” you thought so as well, how did this thing even happen? you weren’t like this months ago and here you are thinking back on how the hell does she have you on a chokehold.

it was one of those nights that chaeryeong wanted to sleep over at your place, knowing that you don’t share your room with anyone or how you don’t mind her being there as you work on whatever homework you have. she’s quiet in your bed as she’s reading for her class and you’re on the verge of calling it a night. chaeryeong has been keeping track of your movement, making her lose focus when she could have been studying but she’s looking at you and averting them is she thinks you’re gonna look at her or face her way.

her face is buried in her book as you continue what you’re doing, taking quick glances at chaeryeong before you walk out of the room to get yourself something to relieve the stress. coming back holding a bottle of soju and a glass and noticing the way chaeryeong’s nose scrunches if she doesn’t understand a term or how focused she is at reading.

“do you want a drink?” chaeryeong doesn’t know how you got that bottle of soju when you were just studying a few minutes ago on your desk that was close to where she was. she lost track of you for a bit.

“on a school night, really?” you rolled your eyes as you took a glass and poured yourself some and placed it back on your desk. sitting next to her as you wait for some sort of reaction or confirmation that she wants to. her hand reaches out asking for your glass, she’s not one to finish a drink alone, knowing that she gets drunk easily.

“if you finish my glass, i swear to god, lee chaeryeong-” pouring another shot of soju, thinking if you should get a can of beer and mix it.

“you and i both know i’m going to drink whatever you have.” she’s thinking the same thing as she stands up and makes her way to the kitchen like she owns the place.

“then you complain how strong it tastes.” you follow her, holding the glass and the bottle of soju and setting it in the living room where she pours the beer onto the one glass you’ve been sharing.

“stop getting strong drinks then.” she takes the glass and chugs it as she gently places it back on the table with a smug look.

“work on your tolerance first.” pouring yourself a drink as her smug look is wiped out of her face.

chaeryeong is a lightweight, you know this as she finishes another glass and is already laughing at whatever you two are talking about but who are you to complain. getting quite touchy and leaning on you as she reaches for your glass but you stop her and finish the drink. even if you’re a bit tipsy and she’s close to being blackout drunk, your priority is to stop her from going past her limit.

she’s looking at you with a pout as you keep the glass away from her, reaching out and leaning herself onto you, faces inches away from each other, and you’re looking at her lips while she’s looking at yours. halfway through the bantering of her being a lightweight and trying to prove herself to you, now on the verge of either kissing each other or stopping entirely and calling it a night.

whatever it was, chaeryeong made the first move, kissing you with such gentleness at first as you let the shock die down and kiss her back. in the back of your mind, you’re brushing this off as you’re both intoxicated, not in the right mind and it’s just the mood of your place. there’s also the other part of you that doesn’t care about what happens.

that wasn’t the case when you woke up the following day, seeing how you’re both holding each other close with a small headache. this is normal between you and chaeryeong who sleep next to each other when she comes over but a part of you is aware it isn’t. noticing how your clothes are scattered everywhere on the floor, and her neck is covered in lovebites. even double checking under the blanket to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

part of you was panicking because this is your friend who you’ve grown to care so much for. the same girl that you met freshman year of college who you believe is such a sweetheart and wouldn’t do such a thing if she were intoxicated let alone be the one to initiate all of this.

chaeryeong feels you moving in her embrace and tries her best to stop you while you’re in the middle of having a mental crisis. it didn’t help that she kisses you in the lips that you’ve fully stopped your thought process and look at her who is just smiling as if she doesn’t have the worst headache of her life.

“the fuck, chaer?”

“don’t act like you hate it.”

that’s how it started, sneaking around and kissing each other in private, acting like a couple and lying to your friends that chaeryeong is nothing but a friend. well- that was it, a friends with benefits scenario with her and a part of you is slowly dying as this keeps on going. if it weren’t for minjeong walking in on you two kissing at a party, she wouldn’t have known this entire thing.

within the 3 months this situation you have with chaeryeong has been going on, you know you’ve grown to like the girl more than you’d like to admit. the first rule of the deal was no strings attached, no feelings, because this started because you’re both lonely, right?

a part of you thinks it’s more than just being lonely, hoping that chaeryeong has grown to like you but won’t admit it. delusional, but how could anyone explain the possessiveness when some girl flirts with you, or how she’s stuck by your side and talks about the future and telling you that you’re a part of it in some way. you’re tired of the push and pull and want her to be full on honest but how could that happen when you’re so close to each other yet it feels like she’s miles away.

you keep your gaze on chaeryeong dancing as you’re left with minjeong a bit intoxicated and having the need to go out and think things through. valentine’s was a few hours away and here you are at a club holding a diluted drink and an empty glass. placing the glass on the table, letting minjeong know you’re heading out first to get some fresh air but in reality you plan on heading home and not wallow much in the pain that is in the shape of lee chaeryeong.

she’s dancing with her friends but her gaze never left yours as she watches you take your stuff and leave your friend on the table. you’re not looking at her as the bouncer lets you out - she stops and looks at minjeong, panicking and signalling to her friends that she’s gonna head out for a bit. she hopes you haven’t walked that far or taken a bus back to your place but she’s running to you with your head low and kicking a random pebble.

“Y/N!” turning around, you see chaeryeong running at you and into your arms holding you close while you’re a bit concerned as she chased after you without a coat in the middle of winter. taking yours off and letting it drape on her shoulders as she holds you closer.

“you should head back in there.” you feel she shaking her head as you hold her close, letting the snowflakes drop as you try to find a way to make her go back and continue talking to whoever was flirting with her.

“we’re going home together. you can’t just leave me having fun there-”

“chaer, it’s fine - not like we’re dating..,” a bit of a low blow but it’s the truth. why would she chase after you if she was the only one having fun while you’re in pain. how could you tell her that you need some sort of answer or label to whatever this is because you’re sure this isn’t just a friends with benefits when you’re acting like a couple in private without much of the benefits.

“just go back… ask ryujin to drive you home.”

“i said, we’re going home together. that’s final.”

you’re tired of the push and pull. whatever this is. because how come she’s reacting like this when there’s no strings attached.

“i wanna end this.” chaeryeong is taken aback, weren’t you happy before you left for the party? kissing her before stepping out and all of a sudden you want to stop. you also weren’t the best - chaeryeong has been nothing but confused because of you as you act clingy to her in private and ignore her in public. playing the push and pull, but that was expected because she made the rules.

no feelings. no public display of affection, and no one has to know (aside from minjeong).

“fine.”

“the fuck yo- hold on. you’re fine with us ending things?”

she nods and let’s go of you, there’s some space in between but not like those where the other person runs for it and you just hear nothing from them but she’s close. looking at you straight and holding you by the chin to make sure you’re looking directly at her.

“under one condition.” you raise your eyebrow, letting her continue as you can’t really think much when there’s alcohol running in your system and all you wanna do is kiss her.

“tell me that you love me. even if you don’t - just tell me that you love me.”

everything that involves lee chaeryeong leaves you confused and asking for some sort of clarity but it’s part of her charm and hearing that absurd request - it would be easy because you do love her.

“i love you.”

she let’s you go, moving back a bit with a sad smile on her face as she turns around and starts to walk away. you’re left in the cold as she slowly leaves you alone as if time stopped, contemplating on to pour your entire heart out or go home. this could be your last time seeing her if you don’t let her know your true feelings and how much you’re dying to tell her that you've fallen for her.

”i love you - to the point you take my breath away and i’m left here suffocating when you’re far away as if you’re oxygen that my body needs. it’s killing me seeing you in public and stopping myself from running towards you and just kiss you to stop them from flirting with you and - i wanted to end this because- “ you pause, taking a deep breath as chaeryeong is facing you with glossy eyes, holding your coat close to her small figure.

“i want to date you, not like this - the push and pull is killing me, chaer. please-”

“shut up and kiss me.”

she ran towards you throwing your coat on the ground and kissing you like the same way when it started. a kiss that’s so gentle but she’s pouring her heart out for you to reciprocate.

chaeryeong knows that you’re already hers, she just needed you to say it.

#itzy chaeryeong #chaeryeong #chaeryeong x reader #chaeryeong imagines #itzy #lee chaeryeong #itzy imagines #itzy scenarios #itzy x reader #angst #yes it's angst #mine by chaeryeong is on loop

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