vampire hunter!finn drabble :3 this isn't good sorry. very ooc finn
he'd been chasing you for weeks now, frustration building in his veins like lava rising in a volcano. and finally, he may have caught you.
you'd run into an abandoned cabin in the woods for safety, his sharp eyes following your movements precise and focused. Finns boots crunched against the leaves as he walked closer, wooden stake clutched tight in his palm.
you thought you were safe, that he hadn't seen you take refuge in the rotting wood house, the floorboards so weak they feel they might crumple under your feet any second.
the floor creaks, the sound of the wooden planks popping behind you, you're unable to turn around before a large hand wraps itself around your arm, slamming you into the wall with a dull thud.
your head bangs against the wall, clouding your vision for a moment and making you whine. you suck in a broken breath when you feel the sharp tip of wood press against your throat.
it's him. it wouldn't be anyone else.
Finn swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath of his own, sweat heading on his furrowed brow. his eyes darted around your face, noting how the moonlight makes your skin glisten, almost shiny, and the little points behind your lips.
"open." he murmurs, keeping the stake against your throat with one hand and forcing your mouth open with his fingers on his other hand. "don't you dare try and bite."
he was 99.99% sure you were a vampire, but this proved any lingering suspicion (which was almost none) that he had. ignoring the warm wentess of your mouth, he presses the pad of his thumb against one of your fangs, duller than he expected.
you pant around his fingers, tasting the sweat on them, drool pooling on your tongue. you know better than to fight, you've seen what he does to those who do.
"le.. lease.." you choke out, meeting his sharp gaze with widened eyes, pupils blown, making your eyes look almost black.
he grunts, pulling his fingers from your mouth and wiping them on his jeans. "again. speak."
you cough, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. "please.. please don't." you plead, voice just above a whisper, hand cautiously moving up to his chest.
he jerks back slightly, biting th inside of his cheek. a long moment passes, and you swear you can see him arguing with himself in his head.
eventually he lowers the stake, shaking his head in disappointment with himself. "go."
a breath of relief leaves your lips. you didn't expect that to work. "really?-"
"go before I change my mind, damnit!" he growls, threatening to point the stake at you once again
you jump, nodding hastily and disappearing into a plume of fog, the squeak of a bat flying past Finns head quickly.
he groans, kicking a hole in the weakened door, throwing the stake to the ground. "fuck! I hate this job.." he murmurs, adjusting himself in his jeans with a heavy sigh before heading back to his truck.
he'll have to make up an excuse for why he isn't coming home with the corpse of a vampire in the bed of his truck tonight.
does ur new post mean no more joe keery? obvi get it if not, will just miss ur writing for him 😔💔
hhmmhm uhmm probably,, idk. i feel like i shouldnt be writing for him anyway considering like. i havent seen ANY of the other content hes in beside st. like im literally just guessing lmfao
infact i dont know much about djo at all, i dont even listen to his music </3 i just think hes neat
thinking abt older!mike.. ugh he's changed so much from when he was young, barely 17. now he's in his thirties and snorting cocaine off his mahogany desk next to the book hes subconsciously dedicated to the love of his life he lost a decade or so ago
his glasses sit low on his nose and he types away until late hours in the night when his eyes are dry and his back aches from his chair. he finally calls it a night and pulls himself up with a groan, a few joints cracking when he stretches.
he doesn't bother showering, self care hasn't been a priority to him in a long time. he strips off his clothes down to his striped boxers and climbs into his bed, a queen size that feels lonely in the middle of the night, like it's mocking him.
mike tries to surpress those thoughts, leaning over to the nightstand and placing his glasses next to a picture of el, fingertips brushing what would be her jaw if she were really there. but instead of the warmth of her soft skin he feels the coolness of the glass covering the photo, preserving it.
you're riding Mike for the first time ever, and he can't even look at you because he knows when he sees you sink down on his dick, and the way toy stretch open to accommodate his size, he'll cum.
you've had sex before, but mikes always been on top, and the wave of realizing he's been missing out washing over him as he feels the weight of you ontop of him.
mikes eyes are screwed shut, his hands up by his head grabbing onto his pillowcase, lip caught between his teeth to try and muffle the whimpery sounds you made him make.
he felt amazing inside of you, fat tip pressing deep into you every time you bottomed out, arousal pooling on his pelvis and wetting the dark patch of hair there.
you noticed how tense he was, how his cheeks were so red you could see his usually faint freckles littered all over his cheeks and nose, how his thick brow furrowed and how he trembled each time you squeezed around him.
a small giggle slips through your moans, and mikes eyes immediately snap open. "what- what? why are you laughing?" he stutters, breathlessly. chest heaving with heavy breathes that he tried to use to ground himself.
"it's nothing." you coo, rubbing his chest with one hand and combing through his hair with the other, the feeling making him shudder. "you're just so cute, Mikey."
mike groans, eyes shutting and head falling to the side. "god- please don't say that right now.." he whines, bottom lip jutting out in a pout, red from his biting. "just.. keep going. please?"
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis