#a lot of cops come in to get their hair cut at work

[administer-distractions]

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[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

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“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[explorevenus]

my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’ 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

"I love you too, little one."

[fortunxa]

Blue hair, blue eyes, blue lights

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: The chances of a blue-haired girl being chased by the cops and hopping in my car, simply yelling “Drive!” are low, but never zero.

author’s note: It’s my first time publishing a Jinx one-shot of mine, I hope you enjoy! This is a relatively new blog, so if anyone wants to become mutuals I’m definitely open to the idea! :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Fourteen days.

A mere two weeks stand between me and move-in day for my freshman year of college. In other words, summer break is slowly coming to an end, and I’ve done fuck all to make it memorable.

I can feel life passing me by as I watch like a bystander. Usually, the clock is my enemy—a constant reminder of my youth running out, and, shit, I’m too young to feel that way. This time, it serves as a way to free me from the shackles of the evening shift as a front desk worker at our local gym.

The clock strikes midnight, and, like a modern-day Cinderella, I jump up from my seat and make a beeline for the exit, hurriedly clocking out. I simultaneously greet and say goodbye to the night shift going in, already halfway through the small yet relatively empty parking lot. The smell of sweaty ‘gym bros’ is long forgotten as the breeze engulfs me, my dirty sneakers thudding on the concrete. The rust on my beat-up jeep shines in the moonlight as I approach—so seductive, I snicker to myself. I toss my duffel bag in the trunk, hop behind the wheel, and start the engine. I take this moment to commence my connect-phone-to-car-or-die-trying mission and thank the universe for its successful outcome. I browse a bit through the plethora of playlists before settling on the usual one, the sound of Arctic Monkeys filling the space as I leave the parking lot.

I don’t want to go home—not yet, at least—so I settle for a late-night drive. The cookie-cutter, upper-class houses pass me by as I mindlessly cruise through the clean streets—a stark contrast to my neighborhood, where you either learn to stick up for yourself or go home crying to your mama. A place where there is more sewage sludge than trees. A place where I grew up and one I learned to love.

In the midst of it all, I don’t notice the particularly nasty bump on the road that makes my song abruptly cut off. I take a right, pulling over in an alley with an annoyed groan as I resort to phase two, also known as connect-phone-back-to-car-before-I-impulsively-crash, of my initial mission. As I fiddle with the settings, showing my inner cheek no mercy as my teeth dig into their feast, a hissing and spritzing sound comes through my open window.

I think I’m imagining things at first, that post-shift fatigue surely getting the best of me, but I spot the source of the sound rather quickly: a figure, hidden almost out of sight between the fancy houses, switching between various colors of spray paint as she defaces the picture-perfect facade with her graffiti. The sheer speed of her actions makes it look like she’s juggling.

How do I know it’s a girl? Well, although she is wearing a hat to shield her face from any surveillance cameras, a neck warmer up to her nose, and a black, oversized tracksuit already covered in pink paint splotches, her disguise was blown the moment she decided to leave her blue, ankle-length, twin braids out. I twist my neck and reach over the dashboard to try and get a better look at her work. I can barely make out the shape of a green monkey’s face before moving on to the next element. ‘Get ji-’

My reading is interrupted by the sound of sirens piercing the air and blue lights illuminating the area. Instinctively, I turn my headlights off and duck, watching the girl as she hastily packs the cans into her backpack. I swear I can see her eyes twinkle with excitement as she takes one last glance at her—presumably—finished artwork and takes off running through the gardens. Her faint giggle reaches my ears, and a bewildered smile graces my features. I wanted fun, and now it’s right in front of me. I definitely couldn’t get a clearer sign than this.

I observe as one of the cops chases after her as the other drives away, seemingly trying to cut her off. Lightbulb moment. I put the car into gear and waste no time following them from the comfort of the dark alleys, reaching the mysterious girl first through the shortcuts. I catch her contemplating her next move and, without hesitation, quickly flash my high beams at her twice. This seems to grab her attention, and I signal for her to get in with a simple nod, tapping the car door as confirmation.

To my surprise, she actually runs over and hops in the backseat, her back lying flat as she takes a swift peek through the window, and holy shit, I didn’t think that she actually would.

“Drive!” she yells through her panting, and I do. I feel my heart beating wildly against my ribcage as the blue lights appear once again in my rearview mirror. Don’t fuck this up, I think before taking a sharp left. I hear her elated squeals as I visualize the district’s roads and plan the perfect getaway.

Right.

Right, once again.

Left.

Straight down the street.

Sharp right.

I can hear the sirens getting closer as I speed through the familiar routes. It doesn’t matter that I know this area like the back of my hand; the cops probably do, too. There is only one thing left to try, and, albeit risky, it should work. They hadn’t spotted my car yet, and we were quickly approaching a busy intersection—the perfect distraction.

The tires squeak as I harshly pull into an empty driveway, turning the engine off in hopes of blending in.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the blue-haired girl grumbles with brooding eyes. I don’t reply. Instead, I shush her as I grab her waist and roll her off the seat, pushing her into the legroom before ducking underneath the steering wheel. We fall silent, holding our breaths in as the police car passes us by. I watch as they get lost in the dense traffic, a sigh of relief escaping me as I throw my head back. I climb into my seat again and take a peek at the tagger in the back, confusion crossing my features as I watch her stuff her face with candy. My candy. “Hefty stash you got back there.” Her mouth twists at the sour taste of a Warhead she picked. She seems completely unfazed by this whole situation.

I notice that she had discarded her hat and neck warmer and take the opportunity to get a better look at her: blue eyes matching her hair, light freckles splattered across her straight nose and rosy cheeks, pouty lips, her dark and expressive brows… She truly is breathtaking. I feel a blush creep up my face as she climbs over the console, wiggling her way into the passenger seat. She takes her hoodie off, revealing her black tank top, and fuck me, she has tattoos.

She faces me with a curious look herself, seemingly analyzing me too. Her gaze is difficult to decipher as her eyes trail over my figure, and I stiffen. She shoots me a knowing smile before throwing her hands around my neck and placing a kiss on my cheek. “You’re a lifesaver, toots,” she muses into my ear. The pleasant smell of paint and bubble gum hits my nose making me lick my lips. “Name’s Jinx, by the way. Stands for Jinx,” she cackles to herself, drawing her lower lip between her teeth awaiting my introduction.

I blink a couple of times, realizing how silent I’ve been throughout this whole ordeal. I can get awkward, sure, but I’m not timid, so I muster up the courage and consciously relax, trying to project a nonchalant attitude. “I’m Y/N.” I shoot her a smile of my own.

“Y/N. Hmm…” Jinx gives an approving hum as she repeats after me, my name rolling off her tongue like honey. “What made you help little ol’ me?” New observation: she’s a teaser.

“I need some excitement in my life,” I answer truthfully and she perks up with a spark in her eyes.

“Toots, you’ve just made friends with the perfect candidate to help you with that.” Her giddy attitude returns as she beams at me.

“We’re friends, huh?” I tease at her choice of words, my eyebrows raised in a cocky manner.

“Sure we are! I feel like running from the cops together is the perfect bonding experience, don’t ya?” She gives me a once-over before her mouth curves into a smirk. “Unless you want to be more than friends. That could work, too.” She winks. Her straightforwardness should make me turn crimson, but instead, it makes my confidence grow. I give a low chuckle as I shake my head in disbelief.

“Tell you what,” I begin, starting the engine and trying to connect my phone back to the car for the third time already, “let me get you home safely, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings to our friendship. Deal?” I extend my hand toward her, and she ponders my proposition. I can practically see the cogs turning in her head, her facial expressions jumping from sour to doubtful, as if she were battling her thoughts before settling on a satisfied grin.

Her soft hand reaches mine in a princess handshake, and I try not to look at her manicured nails for too long. “Deal.” The blue-haired girl snatches the phone out of my hands, adding her number to my contact list and sending a quick text to herself. Just when I think she’s giving it back, she picks a song, and I hear Arabella playing through the speakers. How fitting.

As I leave the stranger’s driveway, I sense her shuffling in the passenger seat, throwing her legs out the window. She puts her head on my lap freely, toying with the colorful charms on my keychain. In the spur of the moment, I gingerly brush her bangs behind her ear, revealing her side profile. Her gaze catches mine, and I see her eyes soften before I turn mine on the road again.

Jinx tells me her address, and I realize how close to me she lives—the perfect circumstances. I feel her lightly bobbing her head to the music as her left cheek strokes my thigh, her fingers tracing mine as they sit on the gear stick. Her demeanor feels different from the badass tagger who willingly hopped in a stranger’s car. She looks peaceful and content now.

My shoulders slump in disappointment as I park outside her house. She clicks her tongue and lazily lifts her head from the comfort of my lap. She looks around the empty streets of her neighborhood and hums, her curious eyes now shifting to mine. As we take each other in, I can’t help but gravitate toward her���her presence feels almost intoxicating, and I don’t want to part ways just yet. To my surprise, she copies my actions. She’s so close I can feel her minty breath mingle with mine. Instinctively, my gaze drops to her lips as she tentatively licks them. I let out a faint sigh, and she slowly closes the distance. I can hear my heartbeat as I wait for our lips to meet.

But they never do. “I don’t kiss on a first date,” she murmurs in my ear, and my face flushes. Jinx pulls away as she flashes me a toothy grin, and before I can even react, she’s already skipping to her front door, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Wha-? When did she grab her stuff? I stare in disbelief as she turns around, her braids flailing behind her. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings,” she teases and blows me a kiss before disappearing into the dark hallway of her home.

Fourteen days.

Give me two weeks to make her mine.

╰┈➤ sequel – ‘Fourteen days’

[callme-holly]

Can you do dating Dallas winston headcannons 🙏🙏🙏

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - oh, dallas winston, my troubled baby <33 literally none of this is proof-read so if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes please ignore them!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 641 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - brief mentions of fighting

it definitely takes a lot of time for him to open up to you. He loves you and that honestly scares him.

He's been hurt in the past too, so don't expect him to admit his feelings for you straight away.

He's not a big fan of showing affection in public. He'll sling an arm over your shoulder, sure, or keep one hand in your back pocket at all times to show everyone you're his, but he's got a reputation to uphold.

He's super protective of you. You've got someone who's messing with you? No worries, doll, Dallas will sort them out for you.

He doesn’t say it often but you know he cares about you and he’ll show it through little things such as giving you his jacket when you get cold or standing up for you when needed.

Arguments happen fairly often between you two and, while it's usually over something small and petty, Dallas will never be the first to apologise. He's far too stubborn for that.

In private I think he'd be pretty clingy. Not to the point where it's suffocating (*cough* sodapop *cough*) but he just likes to be around you.

He'll hold your waist and kiss your neck whilst you're doing stuff, constantly trying to distract you from whatever it is that you're doing.

He's touched starved and honestly afraid that you’ll leave him although he’ll never admit it out loud.

He gets jealous very very easily. If he sees you talking to another guy, no matter who it is, he feels threatened and is watching over you like a hawk. If he feels the conversation is going on too long, he will step in and put an end to it whether you like it or not.

If you spot something in a store that you like, expect Dallas to disappear for a few moments before returning with said items in hand. He’ll shove it into your arms, waving off your thanks with a small “It’s nothing, doll.”

Does he pay for it? Hell, no. But nobody needs to know that.

Date nights between you two are often spent either driving about Tulsa in Buck's thunderbird or sneaking into the drive-in to watch whatever crappy movie is playing.

He takes his time introducing you to the guys and when he does, it’s a pretty big deal for him. They’re pretty much the only family he’s got and it’s important that you all get along.

Sometimes Johnny will tag along on your guys’ dates. It’s not really something you get a choice in for wherever Dallas is, Johnny won’t be far behind. But he’s no trouble really. He’s more than happy to hang back and stay quiet, as long as he can see you guys and you’re there to keep him safe.

After fights or rumbles, Dallas likes to lay his head in your lap while you play with his hair. He'll deny it until the day he dies if anybody ever questions it but you know, deep down, he loves it.

Speaking of rumbles... you're his go-to after he gets hurt. he trusts you to patch him up and take care of him. Sure, he'll complain when you try to clean the cuts but eventually, he'll sit still and let you work.

He’s probably not huge on cuddling, but when you both spend the night together or if he’s tired and beyond the point of caring, he’ll let you lie on his chest while he smokes, his free arms draped lazing across your waist.

When he gets hauled in by the cops, expect a call from him begging asking you semi-politely for you to come pick him up.

Your parents will probably disapprove of him but he couldn't care less.

He’ll probably end up sneaking into your room most nights, but, hey, no complaints, right?

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[wihellib]

Mammon was voted #1 in the Favourite H Scene poll here. Not really surprising. His H scene was quite good. Satan was 2nd and Foras was 3rd. I am surprised by Foras. I think there might be a bit of recency bias in this case.

Under the cut is my completely biased, quickly-written, kinda summarized opinions on each of the H scenes.

Satan

Satan staring at you without blinking while kissing and sleeping still throws me off.

I like that Satan reassures you that he’s doesn’t just like you because you’re the descendant of Solomon.

I don’t like hair pulling or strangulation, so not very fond of this scene, even though I like Satan a lot.

The CG is nice. I like how he’s grinning and the glow of his eyes.

Only features a little bit of spanking even though that’s his kink.

It’s mentioned that we’re feeling the pleasure that Satan’s feeling. This is done in several scenes. I’ve never liked it. It feels like a cop out.

The scene ends abruptly with you blacking out. I much prefer when there a bit of follow up/pillow talk afterwards.

Sitri

Sitri gives you tea to calm your nerves that makes your heart beat a lot faster and louder because of the caffeine… but I don’t think caffeine works to this extent, so creative liberty I guess.

His kink, hearing heartbeats, features prominently in this scene. Keeping his head near your chest, mouth on your chest, feeling your heartbeat through your intimate connection, and moving in time with your heartbeat.

You’re feeling turned on because he’s turned on, similar to Satan’s scene, still not a fan.

You feel more aroused as your heart beats faster and you think it might explode… I don’t see what’s arousing about that.

CG was good again. I liked that he’s showing a lot more emotion than his normal sprite usually does.

He calls you Solomon throughout, which is annoying, but does call you by your real name at the very end (the only time he’s done so).

Some pillow talk at the end which is nice.

Zagan

Zagan blushes and turns away when he sees your naked body, which is cute.

He’s quiet like usual, but does speak when you ask him why he wanted to help you, and says he wanted to do it with you and give you devils energy, while blushing. Very cute.

You get to take a bit more of a lead, be a bit more assertive, in this one, you’re not just manhandled around, which is refreshing.

I like that he seems to have a praise kink.

He tries to increase his muscle use, get a better workout, increase movement, which is his kink, which arouses him more, which arouses you. Fine whatever.

The CG is fine. Your foot looks wonky with its finger-like toes but Zagan looks good.

Some pillow talk again. Zagan has been mostly silent, but does say it was a good workout and he wants to do it again at the end.

Leraye

Leraye is completely overwhelmed by pleasure from hearing thunder, which is his kink. He basically tackles you onto the bed and glues himself on top of you.

I’m pretty sure this is the first time one of them play with your genitals during foreplay.

You are getting aroused from the thunder too, so we’re keeping the trend of whatever the guy likes you also like inexplicably.

MC comments he’s more like a growling wolf and not his golden retriever self.

I really like this CG. He’s completely on top of you, pressing you down on your stomach, while covering your eyes and biting your neck. His presence is overwhelming.

The thunder goes away and Leraye comes back to his senses. He’s so happy that it wasn’t a dream, smiling, lays down next to you, wishes you good dreams and kisses your forehead. I very much like this wind-down to the scene.

Paimon

We go to Paimon’s room instead of ours for this scene, which is a nice change of pace. His room is full of mirrors, which feature heavily in this scene. His kink, which is blood, isn’t included at all.

We’re also not naked right at the very start, which I much prefer. I like the undressing phase.

Paimon rubs your genitals and forces you to look at what he’s doing to you in the mirror, which he continues throughout the scene. I was surprised how dominant Paimon was in this scene, but I wasn’t against it.

Paimon says he loves pretty things and looking at pretty things from multiple angles. He says that you’re pretty and a devilish human.

He makes you brace your hands against a wall mirror and stuffs your shirt in your mouth.

The CG is good. For the first time we are shown a different angle than us on a bed. Paimon’s face seems a little off to me, but overall it’s good.

Paimon throws the mirror on the ground, so you’re forced to look at a different, more revealing angle.

Just a little bit of pillow talk. Paimon kisses us and tell us to come him when we want to play more.

Mammon

Back in Minhyeok’s room unfortunately. Mammon comes out swinging by immediately commenting on how skilled we look in accepting devil’s energy.

Mammon says that it was obvious since he first met you that he had to have you, but he also realized that he would just be one of many that would try that tactic. So, he decided to do something he’s never done before and let you have him. You will be his first master. He also reveals that he wasn’t as close to Solomon as the other Kings. You ask if he only likes you because you’re the descendant of Solomon and he replies that he just fell in love with you at first sight. This affection is clear throughout this scene, which increases its rank a lot for me.

Mammon’s kink is all about bottoms, and this scene reflects that. You’re both grabbing each other’s butts and getting more aroused.

Mammon picks you up and holds yours buttcheeks open while you wrap your arms around his neck. I like that Mammon is showing off his strength here.

I do wish that they had spent some time on Mammon using his fingers or tongue to prep you to take him. He is very large, evident by the fact that your first thought when he entered you was, ‘I am going to die’, so it would have been nice to see him care about making sure he doesn’t hurt you. He does hold himself still at first to let you adjust, but I still would have liked some prep beforehand.

The CG is good. No complaints.

Mammon flips you around, so you’re in a standing 69 position, showing off his strength again, and you give each other oral.

Longer pillow talk. He lays you on top of him, it was very nice.

Bimet

Bimet changes his tune about you real quick when Mammon declares you to be his master. He kneels before you and informs you that you became the being that arouses him the most with that declaration. He cannot covet Mammon, but now he can covet you, the only one who owns Mammon, and he is ecstatic about that. He wants to serve you. Bimet’s kink is wealthy people and you’re the wealthiest of all.

I do not like Bimet and I do not like his reasons for favouring you. It is shallow and fragile. He would be back to contempt for you the moment Mammon lost interest. I’m not a big fan of this H scene simply because I don’t like Bimet.

He licks your toes, which no thank you. He does oral on you and puts his conniving tongue to good use.

CG is good. I like how wet his mouth is because of you.

Some pillow talk. He gives you the first thing he truly owned himself, a coin from Solomon, and tells you to give it back to him if you choose him. I would have preferred if the first thing he owned wasn’t from Solomon.

Belial

You go to wrap your naked body in a blanket like you usually do, but Belial stops you and says you’ll end up taking it off anyways. The immediate assertiveness was surprising but interesting.

Because of his throat injury, Belial talks very little and Jjyu is not there to help him, so he communicates with you by writing on your naked body, which is his kink. It is a very good, intimate solution. He writes lots all over your body while fingering you.

You are against the wall, facing Belial, while he penetrates and writes adorations on you.

The CG shows that everything he’s written is glowing red on you. It’s a nice picture, but I could have done without him licking your armpit. I think I would have preferred a kiss in the lips instead.

Some pillow talk, you fall asleep with him inside of you.

Valefor

We have moved on from Minhyeok’s room, which is great. I felt it was much too restrictive, and caused repetitiveness.

Valefor reassures you and you tell him he is kind and reminds you of Mammon, which he approves of. When you see that he likes it, you lean more into the comparisons. Valefor is turned on by being compared to Mammon because he respects him greatly. You talk about Mammon a lot, but I wish it was a bit less, because this is supposed to be Valefor’s moment, not Mammon’s. His kink is supposed to be hearing explicit narratives, so I don’t think this really relates to it.

Valefor praises you for how well you know how to please a devil. And tells you to run away if you want to only know him as the kind relaxed Valefor.

Then we start going into exhibitionism territory, with him leading you to the closed door, where Bimet is just outside keeping watch. This is also not his kink.

Bimet leaves to check something, so Valefor increases the risk factor and opens the door while you’re both naked and penetrates you.

The CG is fine. The way you and he are positioned are a bit odd. It’s hard to tell whose body part is whose.

Valefor basically taunts you asking where Bimet is, then puts you in an even more embarrassing position.

Some pillow talk. He lifts you up, kisses your forehead, and you admire his chest.

Leviathan

Levi decides to give you devil energy even though he doesn’t like you. He hangs you and insults Minhyeok in an effort to make you mad so you hurt him, which will arouse him. So that’s what happens.

The CG is my least favourite of all of them. You start stomping on his lap and dick. Your toes are oddly long again and you have an oddly muscled thigh. Levi is not even naked. This is the only CG that doesn’t take place during some sort of penetration.

You straddle him and start strangling him and enough clothes have been taken off at this point that he penetrates you.

Then you kissed him for so long that you were both feeling oxygen deprived. He is in awe that you showed him there’s another way to suffocate. He thinks you’re talented. Only very little pillow talk.

I don’t like Levi. The way he acts and talks to you. I don’t like it at all. I also don’t like breath control, his kink, or anything to do with strangulation/choking, or beating people up. So this H scene was not for me at all.

Glasyalabolas

Glasy’s kink is necrophilia, and they include his kink in the H scene by making you as limp as a corpse after kissing him. Oh boy. I’m not fond of Glasy and I don’t like the idea of not being in control of yourself and unable to move at all. So this scene ranks very low for me.

He licks your toes, not a fan. He plays with your chest and nipples. He spreads you open and just stares, then performs oral on you, while keeping you spread open.

He makes your limp hand jerk him off, then uses your slack mouth. This is the second time you performed oral on a demon. This is what the CG shows, though I would have preferred if they picked something else.

Then he manhandles you into position to penetrate you. He cums inside you. Then he moves to your throat again and comes there too. This is the first time the guy has come twice in an H scene.

There is pillow talk. He wraps you in his cape, holds you and kisses you as the limpness wears off. He tells you he’ll fetch you when you die, but it’s good you’re alive now.

Foras

You realize you need devils energy, but none are around you right now, so you start masturbating. You hear the door open, but don’t see anyone. Foras is invisible, which plays into his kink.

He starts playing with your genitals while invisible. You realize who he is and call out to him, but he ignores you.

Finally he tells you to take off your clothes, pose embarrassingly, and just sit there in silence while he watches while still invisible. The dominance he’s displaying is unexpected, but fine.

Foras puts his dick near your mouth and you suck him off.

He penetrates you, again while all the while being invisible, so it looks like you’re being fucked by a ghost.

The CG could be better. His expression looks a little wonky and you’re clothed in it even though you’re supposed to be naked.

Foras informs you that he was there for every H scene. He really liked that you never noticed him.

He doesn’t let you see him afterwards, which I think he should have. He gets your permission to keep watching you having sex. Then he inexplicably cums on your face after you fall asleep. No thank you sir. And for some reason you don’t even comment on it after you wake up.

Overall

I liked Leraye, Mammon, Belial, Zagan, Paimon, and Valefor H Scenes the most.

[mythmash]

Bouncer!Sukuna AU Pt. 8 - Yorozu

Bouncer!Sukuna x Stripper/Dancer!Reader. Warnings: MDNI 18+, bullet point fic, uncle!sukuna, toxic situationship, sukuna does not treat yorozu well, minor blood, arguing, sukuna being an asshole, knife/gun mention, a lot of makeup sex A/N: this is a collaborative work made with the amazing @pastelbunnelby, @pastelpixies & @chaoskrakenuwu Series Masterlist || Previous | Next

(On a note that'll be circled back to, it’s no secret that Sukuna fucks

He had a ton of flings before he went to prison and probably had more after he got out before you came into the picture)

He has a cleaner for his apartment

It’s the old grandma of an old colleague/former cellmate who doesn’t give a shit about who he is or what he does

Whereas your nail tech adores him, his cleaner nags the shit out of him

Why can’t he pick up his own clothes?

He needs to get better flowers for you.

He did a shit job at parking his car.

Etc, etc.

But he keeps her around cause she does a good job, she’s not nosy, and he kinda likes her

(Don’t bring up how old ladies seem to love him, he has no idea what you’re talking about)

It surprises people to learn about that because they picture Sukuna and how he is and imagine he’d probably get some kind of maid/escort service where a hot woman comes over in a barely there french maid costume and “cleans”

Circling back to the first point though...

Throughout his flings he has one recurring fling

Yorozu’s the only one who’s been to his place but only because of the convenience cause she worked close-by and he could make her leave his apartment whenever he wanted

He gets out of prison and doesn’t call her for a while fully intending to string her along because he really doesn’t like her

He’s honestly super toxic to her

He doesn’t know why she keeps coming back

But then you happen and Yorozu who??

He’s never heard that name in his life??

It's months later, a little after you’ve moved in with him and someone knocks on the door while he’s in the shower

You answer it thinking it’s the cleaning lady which - why is she here so late?? That’s weird??

And now there some woman you’ve never seen before shoving her way into the apartment??

She sees you in Sukuna’s shirt and underwear and makes a snide remark about him finally ditching the old hag and getting some good eye candy to clean up

She makes herself at home, saying things along the lines of “Must be missing me, if you’re what he’s going for now. Oh well, I’m here now so you can leave. I’m sure he’s already given you a nice tip.”

You’re two seconds from fighting this woman when Sukuna walks out in just a towel, and he doesn’t even look at Yorozu

He just looks at you like “You comin’ to bed or what, princess?”

You don’t move or say anything, looking between him and a shocked Yorozu while your brain is like I am confusion, Sukuna explain

He finally huffs and gestures to you, “This is my girlfriend. Princess, this is…the fuck’s your name again?”

Yorozu goes through 87 different emotions eventually landing on pissed because not only did he not call her, now he’s replacing her with you?

And since when did Sukuna do girlfriends?

That title should’ve gone to her first!

There's crying and yelling (Yorozu) and disgust and anger (Sukuna) as he tries to get her out of his apartment

It’s almost entertaining until she grabs your face, screaming, “You’d choose this over me?!”

And her nails are fucking sharp so it doesn’t take much for them to cut your cheek

The second Sukuna hears you whine and sees the blood it’s over

He’s dragging Yorozu out by her hair, all the way to her car in nothing but his towel and you can vaguely hear screaming and shouting

It's a wonder no one calls the cops

He doesn’t come back for a good ten minutes and he’s pissed but you can tell he’s trying to keep calm for your sake

You want to tell him you’re fine but the more you think about the angrier you get because what the fuck was that? Who the fuck was that?

He won’t answer your questions because he genuinely doesn’t give a shit about Yorozu and he’s more concerned about your face and seeing the scratches is pissing him off more and more

It turns into an argument because you won’t let him touch you until he tells you about Yorozu and he won’t explain anything until you let him look at your face

It gets heated and there’s a small moment where you think it might turn into hate sex until Sukuna says something about how he should’ve let Yorozu stay if you were going to be this annoying about it

You go quiet, turn, and lock yourself in the bedroom

Sukuna’s banging on the door, yelling at you to let him in until he hears you crying on the side and oh.

Oh no.

Why does his chest hurt? What is this feeling? Is this…guilt? He didn’t even feel this way when he killed someone. This isn’t supposed to happen.

But it does, and he feels fucking awful

Because he knows he’s a piece of shit, he knows you know he’s a piece of shit, but he’s taken care to never be a piece of shit to you

And now he’s messed that up so he gives you space and ends up on the couch in his towel, listening to you cry yourself to sleep

He doesn't get any sleep

In the morning he picks the bedroom lock and carefully, quietly, gets some clothes

He lets you sleep in, does not look at your puffy, sad, clumsily bandaged face, and leaves to go get breakfast

He treats you to breakfast in bed from your favorite place, and his hands are wandering but they’re gentle and not going anywhere inappropriate

He feels a little better being allowed to touch you even if you aren't speaking to him

But then you look at him and thank him for breakfast but you just look so heartbroken and defeated

He reaches for your cheek and you turn away, and he hates it and how it makes him feel so much because you should never look like that and it should never be because of him

Normally this would be where he'd beat someone up for you, but he can't beat himself up so he goes with the next thing that comes to mind

The words “I’m sorry” have never been in his dictionary, but they are today and he says it so genuinely it surprises both of you

Sukuna kinda feels gross about it, but then you’re telling him it’s okay and you’re smiling so who cares how he feels

He convinces you to let him look at your cheek and while he’s doing that he tells you about Yorozu

He assures you she doesn’t mean anything to him and she’s nothing compared to you and you believe him, you do...

But there’s that little voice telling you that he must’ve kept going back to her for a reason

Sukuna notices because he notices everything about you, and decides he knows exactly how he’s going to make it up to you

It starts in the shower, where he cleans you with a reverence you didn't think he was capable of

Then you move to the sink where he has you facing the mirror so he can show you how much he loves you and how stunning you are

Then the bed where he spends so much time whispering about all the ways you’re better than anyone else he’s had and won’t let you cum until he’s sure that you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him

After that, he puts you in charge

It’s whatever you want, whenever you want, and however you want it all day

You take him with you to get your nails done

…and take him back when you have to get them fixed after you mess one up clawing at his back when you fuck in the car right after

You get lunch and smirk at him when you order the most phallic shaped foods you can find

Nooo that’s not your foot on his crotch under the table while you’re subtly tonguing a banana split?? What is he talking about??

You take him shopping to make up for it and graciously let him pick a pair of heels for you, some lingerie for you, a vibrator for you, and whatever else with the coy promise of later

Later ends up being the fitting room, and sex shop’s employee break room, and the car again

You make dinner and he’s doing his best to distract you and yeah this has to simmer for thirty minutes? Why is he aski— oh, you’re on the counter.

Oh, he’s on his knees.

Ok, yeah.

You can work with this.

Dinner is pretty good.

Cleanup is better when he “accidentally” spills wine on your neck and insists on cleaning it up with his tongue

And oop-

Now he’s laid out the table while you ride him

Oh well, it was time for dessert anyway

After dinner you model the heels and the lingerie for him

You give him a dance or two and make sure he keeps his hands to himself until he can’t take it and you’re fucking on the couch, the floor, the coffee table, the bookcase, the wall, the door to the bedroom-

You finally get to the bed and you’ve got his knife in one hand, following its trail up his dick with your tongue

He’s about to lose his goddamn mind when you pull out the gun he keeps under his pillow and the vibrator

something something quit torturing the poor boy something something

It’s like 2am, you’re passed out, and Sukuna is still reeling from having his soul nearly fucked out of him

While he doesn’t want to ever hurt you like that again, he feels you cuddle up to him and moan his name in your sleep, and that toxic part of him thinks that it was a little bit worth it

[theragethatisdesire]

random poly!erejean headcanons bc i said so ❤︎₊ ⊹

some of these are going to end up nsfw i'm sure so i'm going to put a cut at some point but i just love this little throuple and u guys need to know as much about them as me and @fictional-d-supremacy

it takes eren the longest to adjust to everything (to be fair, he went from "wait, a threesome would be fun...especially with jean!" to "why especially with jean?" to "wait...jean.")

so it's understandable that it takes eren a bit to understand his attraction towards jean and jean's towards him, both of them are hesitant and crossing that bridge of best friends -> unexpected relationship

but one day you come over unexpectedly to find them snuggled up on the couch together, eren tucked under one of jean's arms and your heart just melts - naturally they LEAP up when you catch them and are super pink and eyeing each other suspiciously

jean goes a little too long without a hair cut and eren (after some manhandling) drags him in front of you one day, both of their hair tied back in identical buns. "look babe, twins!"

going on a date night with the three of you is damn near impossible

jean and eren bicker constantly about the restaurant. jean wants to wear the same red button-down that eren's already got on and claims he's called dibs. eren wants to have sex but you're all already fifteen minutes late for the reservation

all that to say jean gets to show off his cooking abilities a lot considering how many dinner reservations you miss

it turns out jean is the only person that can dom eren. eren loves to talk shit to you, but jean can shut him right up. sometimes jean's in the mood to play good cop/bad cop (like we've seen in the fics), but other times, your sex life just goes in a cycle of jean pulling the strings and you and eren smiling up at him with hearts in your eyes

eren finds out that he loves giving head. neither you or jean can get out the door without eren trailing after you begging to "just give it a kiss goodbye"

jean teaches you how to help him make eren cum without anyone touching him (you didn't even know guys could do that, and neither did eren)

when it finally happens, eren's eyes are as big as saucers while jean and you just smirk at him

"what just happened?" "you came." "i-i- but, i know, but-" "i think we broke him."

birthdays are a HUGE deal

especially since two of you can gang up on whoever's the birthday princess (regardless of gender, the birthday boy/girl has to wear the "birthday princess" crown that eren got you for your birthday a few years ago)

you've come home on several instances to find the air in the apartment chilly and jean and eren not speaking only to find out one beat the other in a video game

even once they're comfortable and mushy and in love, jean and eren still insist on you sleeping in between them

1. "because you're our princess!" 2. "because jean snores." 3. "yeah? well eren kicks." you wind up both the body pillow and the punching bag for them

you and jean love to get eren all flustered by telling him how pretty he looks before you head out. little cheek/forehead kisses make him scowl and blush without fail.

alternatively, you and eren love to rile jean up by sending him nudes and nasty videos while he's at work. you both pay for it later, but it's so worth it.

i feel like they just pick you up 24/7? like they've absolutely swung you back and forth with one holding your arms and one holding your ankles just to piss you off while you're reading on the couch

when you get your period, the boys secretly call it your "monstruation" period. jean chastises eren for it all the time, but he's the one that slips up and clues you in on it

eren's in charge of snacks and movies to keep you comfortable, jean's in charge of medicine and keeping the tampon/pad drawer stocked

eren absolutely buys stupid "his/hers/his" things for the house like mugs and matching towels. denies being the one that bought them when they show up in the mail

"we must have a secret admirer- i mean, not like i blame them or anything. we're hot."

i have so many more i just didn't want this to be an absolute MONSTER of a post lol. like yes, is poly!erejean a smutty dream? sure, but the FLUFF potential!!! that's what gets me! i just love them <3

if you guys want more please tell me i will never shut up about them ever

[starysky1289]

Toxic!Stepsis!Vanessa X Reader. Sibling bonding.

TW: DubCon, Toxic relationship

Note: Toxic!Stepsis! is different than just normal stepsis. Just like toxic! Vanessa is different than normal Vanessa. It’s a different storyline, figured I clear it up

Your mother had forced you and your god awful Stepsister to hang out in the house when she was gone. You and Vanessa were grown adults, and your mother wanted to act like it was a sleepover. Ontop of that,Vanessa would always talk about being a cop and acted like she was the most important person in the building. You knew her father, your step father, only encouraged that from her, stupid Steve, getting with your mother. Vanessa entered the room you were in, sitting on the couch besides you.

“ so, what are we going to do for three hours while your mother is gone. “

“ I don’t know. I don’t want to do this. “

“ don’t act like a baby, Y/N. You wanna watch a movie or something. “

You groan, standing up and crossing your arms, glaring at her.

“ I don’t want to do. Anything with you. I’m going to my room. “

You stormed upstaires, laying belly down on the bed, and angrily scrolling through your phone. You could hear her following you up the stairs and she bashed into your room, you didn’t look up at her, you couldn’t care what she thought.

“ I don’t know where the fuck you get off acting like that to me, but your mother just wants us to bond. Now you can get your ass downstairs and we’ll watch a movie, or I’ll stay with you in here “

“ your not my mom! I hate when you talk like this! “

“ Well you’re acting like a fucking child! “

You burried your face in your pillow. You could hear Vanessa angrily mumbling to herself, before feeling her pull you by your hair, making you sit up. She held you by the chin, her Ivy green eyes staring at you, her hot breath against your face.

“ you know what we do to convicts who act up? “

You stayed silent as you stared up at her. She gripped your face harder and scoffed.

“ we bound them. And I think you’re acting just as bad as one. “

Your eyes widened slightly, and you tried to pull away from her grasp, her eyes staring down at yours.

“ I’ll tell My mother…she’ll kill you! “

“ yeah, and who’d she belive? Her stepdaughter, while she cherishes, and a well respected cop. Or her daughter who still lives in the house and acts like a child. “

Vanessa dropped your face, and walked out of the room, you desperately tried to chase after her to stop whatever she was doing, but she locked it from the outside, that bitch. It wasn’t much longer before she came back in, throwing you back on the bed, dropping her black canvas tote.

“ now..I’m not allowed to take my cuffs out of work..but..”

She reached into the tote, pulling out a package of large zipties. You looked up at her panicked, your heart racing.

“ I do carry zips incase I run into someone on the streets. Strip for me, or this’ll be a lot harder. “

You didn’t move, you couldn’t move, you were petrified. She rolled her eyes, and you slowly pulled your shirt off, tossing it off the bed.

“ god your taking forever…hurry it up or I’ll be worse. “

Vanessa growled, you unclasped your bra, and took your sweatpants off, hesitantly pulling at your panties. You couldn’t pull yourself together to take them off.

“ god. This’ll do. “

Vanessa took you by the wrists, tieing a Zip tie around each, before connecting them with one more, and connecting that to your metal bedframe. She then pulled something else from her bag, and you felt your garments come off you, Vanessa held a small pocket knife, tossing the cut off panties into the corner. Your eyes followed the blade as Vanessa stopped and played with it, dragging the dull side up and down her fingers, before stopping, starring at you.

“ you wanna feel it? “

“ I-i…”

She dragged the dull side of the blade up your thighs, something about the cold metal against your thighs made you twitch. You should be hating this, hating her, but the only thing you could think of right now is how she’d feel, how this pain made you feel.

“ v..Vanessa…”

“ you gonna listen now bitch? “

“ y-yes m-maam…”

She smirked, and sat between your legs, pressing her whole palm against your warm cunt, and pulling back to watch the juices stick off it. She held the palm up to your mouth, you looked up at her pleading for instructions.

“ taste yourself. “

You nodded, slowly dragging your tongue her palm, the taste of your own juices made you flush, how you almost tasted sweet.

Vanessa pulled her hand back, and dragged her middle and ring finger up and down your folds, before suddenly plunging in, bucking her fingers in and out. Moans flew out of your mouth, you hadn’t been touch liked this. Not even by your own hand. You yanked on the restraints, you hated how she was pleasing you, how you were under her.

“ V-Vanessa!! S-stop it please!! “

“ no..I think you’re having fun…I don’t wanna stop that~ “

Vanessa fingers quicker as she added her point finger in. She’d bend down and leave thick hickeys on your thighs, marking you, owning you.

“ I can’t stand we share a last name, but atleast you make a good fuck toy…”

The rude name made you blush, and throw your head back even farther. Vanessa made her fingers curl to hit that spot and put your over the moon. You couldn’t stand it, you had to cum, you couldn’t hold it any longer.

Your legs quivered from your heavy orgasim only a few moments later, as you began to tighten around her fingers. You closed your eyes and panted, only to be greeted by a hard slap against your pussy. Vanessa scowled at you, slapping you again.

“ you didn’t ask. You didn’t get permission to cum. So you know what bad fuck toys get? Punishment. “

She slapped her hand against your quivering cunt again, again, and again. You let out cries of ruined pleasure, tears streaming down your face.

“ I’m sorry! I’m sorry p-please stop! “

She pulled back, mumbling under her breath, before cutting the restraints off you. She stood up and fixed herself, heading towards the door before stopping.

“ your gonna go and get dressed, without panties. You’re gonna come downstairs and lay with me on that couch and watch something. And if fucking wanna touch you you’ll let me, understand? “

“ y….yes Vanessa…”

Vanessa stormed out, you weakly wobbled off the bed, throwing your clothes backs on. Your wrists where marked with the zip ties, you rubbed them gently as your made your way downstairs, sitting next to Vanessa, who pulled you into her as she started some random movie. You were hers, you couldn’t change it now. Your stepsisters whore.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Mr Fancy Pants

Alright, so here is another Rafael Barba/Gender Neutral story. The reader is undercover, they don't work for SVU but Finn and Liv know them. Amanda arrests them, and Rafael sits in on the interview, where the reader flirts with him.

Feel free to make requests :)

Warnings: Sexual under tones, discussion of violence, but not overly detailed. And I think that is it.

Masterlist

Prompt List

Return of Sunshine

Your hands were finally free of the hand cuffs as a detective lead you into an interrogation room. You rubbed at your wrists, pretending that they were chaffed a little, pouting at the blonde detective when she pushed at your shoulder to force you into a chair across from where a man in a suit was standing behind another chair.

“No need for the rough treatment detective,” you whined, slumping a little into the back of the incredibly uncomfortable chair. “I didn’t consent to that. And aren’t you sex crime cops meant to be all about that?”

“That wasn’t rough, Sunshine,” Amanda said stopping herself from rolling her eyes. The man however, did not contain himself.

“Sunshine?” he looked at Amanda with an eyebrow raised. You studied his profile allowing a sly, flirty grin to pull at your lips.

“Yeah, Sunshine,” you answered drawing his eyes to you. “Cause I’m just all smiles and happiness. And anyone who leaves my bed is smiling like sunshine.” You winked at him, eyes slowly moving up and down his body. “Could give you that experience, cutie.”

“You’ve been brought in on charges of solicitation and you’re soliciting an ADA?” he’s voice was full of disbelief at your actions.

“No, I’m offering you the chance to experience my full attention on you and only you, a fun time between two adults, a hook up if you will, people have them all the time,” you said narrowing your brows, grin changing to a pout again as you puffed out your cheeks a little. “I have no idea why little miss south here arrested me. I didn’t do a thing. Won’t be asking her if she wants to come to bed with me that’s for sure. Not asking before handcuffing me and being all rough.”

“I’m a cop arresting a suspect in relation to a crime, I don’t need to ask your permission,” Amanda stated. “Now, you can pretend all you like, but we know you were seen around other workers. We want to know if you’ve ever seen this girl before.”

Amanda opened the folder that was on the desk as she took a seat. The ADA still standing. Amanda put a photo in-front of you of a girl who looked barely in her twenties, with long red hair and freckles spattered across her cheeks. You looked down at it before looking back at the ADA.

“Don’t I at least get to know your name?” you asked, looking at him from under your lashes biting your lip. “I mean I don’t mind calling you sexy or handsome or stunningly gorgeous man but I also wanna know your name.”

“I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba,” he ground out, ignoring your weird flirting. “And enough games, Sunshine.”  

“Games? You think I’m playing games?” you asked innocently, blinking at him. “I could show you some games. With consent of course, might not mind getting cuffed if it’s by you.”

“Sunshine! This girl have you seen her?” Amanda interrupted her voice sharp, the anger bubbling underneath. “We have enough to charge you.”

“With what?” you asked, finally turning your gaze to Amanda’s the teasing glint in them gone, replaced by a sharpness she did not expect. “Just cause I was seen around other workers you just assume I’m also a worker? Have you seen me approach a John? Seen me exchange money for sex? Do I have a record? And last I checked you lot weren’t ones to arrest sex workers.”

“This girl was brutally attacked and murdered, don’t you care?” Amanda asked pulling out more photos, this time crime scene photos, slamming them down on the table in-front of you.

“Rollins, enough,” Finn’s voice cut through the silence that had followed. You turned in your seat to look at the new arrival who was already looking at you. “You gonna help or you just wasting our time, Sunshine? Cause we can put you in lock up for 24hrs. Capice?”

You worried your bottom lip as you looked at Finn, glancing back over your shoulder to Amanda and Rafael. Your eyes eventually were drawn to the crime scene photos of the girl, you sighed rolling your neck before looking back at Finn. You raised an eyebrow, nodding towards the other two. He inclined his head.

“Wanderlust,” you muttered standing up, posture changing as you did. The set of your shoulders pulling back and your face losing any trace of teasing as you indicated the door Finn was standing in. “Her office?”

“Yeah, come on you two,” Finn went back through the door with you close behind. Amanda and Rafael shared a look of confusion before storming after you two.

“What is going on?” Rafael demanded looking at Liv only to see her in the middle of a hug with you smiling widely as you greeted her like old friends.

“You two know each other?” Amanda asked.

“All three of us do,” you answered turning around and crossing your arms across your chest. “Met on another undercover job of mine, where our two cases intersected. Ended up helping each. After it happened for the third time we decided to work out a way to let each player know if we could discuss our cases and provide assistance.”

“You’re a cop?” Amanda asked.

“FBI,” you nodded. “Good tactics by the way but you might want to be careful who you bluff with, you had nothing to charge me with, though I am curious as to what made you decide to arrest me.”

“You matched the description we had of someone who was seen in the same area the girl was attacked,” Amanda answered. “And we had quite a few people mention this new worker who had shown up called, Sunshine.”

“Ah, well, fair enough,” you nodded winking at her a little. “Still not enough to actually arrest me. Could get it thrown out myself.”

Your gaze drifted to Rafael who was leaning against the observation window, arms crossed and his face pulled into a frown as he studied you. His eyes seeming to run up the length of your body before he caught your gaze, he quickly looked away turning his attention to Finn his cheeks turning the smallest bit red.

“Hey, Rafael,” you wanted his attention back on you. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Sunshine’s personality is a little…frisky.”

“It’s fine, Agent,” Rafael muttered. “So, do you have anything that can help our case?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. “I haven’t actually seen that girl but I know a few other workers who have mentioned a particularly nasty John lately. It doesn’t seem like our two cases are directly intersecting beyond me being here but I’ll help in anyway I can, so long as it doesn’t jeopardise my case.”

“Can we expect a lawyer showing up for you?” Liv asked.

“Potentially, Sunshine isn’t working for anyone at the moment, my goal is to try and get the attention of a pimp who has ties to an international trafficking ring, so if I have got their attention they could use this to try and get me to feel indebted to them,” you explained. “Last our contacts said they were here, my job is to get close and get picked to tag along to where the head creeps hang out.”

Rafael’s eyes had turned back to you, without his conscious thought prompting them. Your job sounded dangerous, with quite a few unknown variables. And it didn’t look like you had any gear on you that allowed your handlers to track your movements.  

“We’ll keep our ears open for anything that sounds like it could be your guy,” Finn promised. “What can you tell us about this John?”

“From what I’ve been told, he drives a four door Sudan, it’s a blue/grey colour one of those ones that seems to shift a little in the light, no-one’s been able to give a full number plate but one of the girls I talked to said it ended in 4KY,” you said. “The guy apparently gets them into the back, the with seats laid down and it starts off normal but he starts to get rough, holding them down hard enough to leave bruises, slapping them. One of them said he even pulled out a knife on her, which would match the marks left on your victim.”

“He’s let some of them go?” Rafael asked, a little surprised considering the extremely violent nature of the attack on their victim.

“He might not be looking to actually kill people,” you explained. “The girls I talked to said they didn’t struggle, they kept up the act. One of them started to struggle and fight him and apparently that set him off but once she stopped and even said sorry he calmed down. He sounds like a sadist who gets off on other people’s pain and fear but he doesn’t want them to struggle for real, to fight him. Most likely he wants the fantasy of them fighting but for the most part wants them to appear as if they are enjoying what he is doing, playing a part to whatever desire he has.”

“You get a description?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah, guy was tall and bulky, he had brown hair that was wavy apparently, he was a smoker, and one girl said he had little scars all over his arm,” you listed. “I can point you in the direction of some of the girls, but I can’t talk to them about helping you guys and you can’t mention that I told you where to go.”

“Don’t worry we will be discreet, you can trust us,” Liv squeezed your shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Course, now, as much as I would love to catch up with you two and get to know the rest of the squad we need to get the show on the road,” you grinned. “And by that I mean letting Sunshine go, you have nothing to hold me on.” You cheekily tsked at Amanda, throwing her a wink making her giggle a little.

“Alright you, back in that room,” Liv smiled pulling you into a hug, before moving out of the way for Finn to squeeze you.

“Next time we see you, it better be as you so we can chat,” Finn demanded.

“Alright big guy,” you laughed. You walked to Amanda and held out a hand. “Nice to have met you Amanda, hopefully next time it will be when I don’t have to be undercover, Finn and Liv have a way to contact me, they can pass it on.”

“You too,” Amanda smiled taking your hand. “Be careful, sounds like a tricky undercover op.”

“That just makes it fun,” you winked at her again. “But thank you, I promise I’ll be careful little miss south.”

“Agent,” when you turned back to the door Rafael was already standing there with a hand out.

“Counsellor,” you gripped his hand. “Shall we continue?” he stood to the side to you allow you go through, following in after you with Amanda on his heels.

The two of them watched in interest as you easily slide back in the persona of Sunshine, you slumped back in the chair as they took the seats across from you. You passed your eyes over Amanda to settle on Rafael, your teasing flirty smile appearing again.

“Well, cutie, you gonna cuff me or let me go?” you asked, putting in a purr to your tone.

“You’re free to go Sunshine,” Amanda sighed collecting the photos. “I suggest you find other places to hang out.”

“Aw, you worried about me blondie?” you cooed. Amanda ignored you as she stood up and opened the door to the corridor. You stood up, strolling around the door passing by Rafael who had stood up. You paused for a split second, making sure to lock eyes with him. “Well, Mr Fancy Pants, be sure to give me a call. I promise it’ll be worth it, sexy.”

You winked at him as you passed, subtly slipping a piece of paper into the pocket of his pants as you trailed your fingers over his hand. You pouted as you passed Amanda wiggling your fingers at her as you left but before you left her eye sight you blew her a kiss. Rafael slipped his hand into his pocket to pull out the piece of paper. It was a name and a number, with a question. ‘My flirting was over the top but doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. Call me?’.

“You know, it took them a while before giving me or Finn their personal number,” Liv’s voice said from behind him.

“Hmm,” was all Rafael said, pocketing the piece of paper. He had to forcibly prevent himself from smiling as he joined the squad to discuss their next move, his fingers every now and then touching the piece of paper.

[vllergy]

relations & afflictions

random allergy fic, 2.3k, old ocs of mine jin-young is a cop (he has the kink because of who i am as a person) vesen is a big tall hot alien assassin aliens and humans are working together but it's still pretty new and things are awkward jin and vesen 100% fall in love with each other eventually that's basically all you need to know

Something’s been bothering Vesen’s nose ever since they left the warehouse. His insistence on delaying the inevitable is only driving both the offending appendage, and Jin by extension, insane. 

There’s a lot Jin has yet to figure out about his alien partner. Human and Kheelen relations are touch and go as it is, and the fact that they’ve paired officers up like this for police work is a shoddy effort at best to keep the peace. There’s just still too much they don’t understand about one another for anything to go smoothly. Case in point—until today, Jin didn’t even know if the Kheelen could sneeze.

It’s not that they look all that different. Bipedal, humanoid, all the same parts and facial features—Kheelen just do everything more elegant and longer it seems like. Even now Vesen has to hunch over slightly to fit all the willowy six foot eight of himself inside Jin’s squad car, and he’s one of the shorter ones of his species. Vesen’s face is similarly angular and lean, almost feline, with deep black eyes and a nose that angles regally off the front of his profile. Jin has always thought the Kheelen look how high fashion used to think supermodels ought to look—distinctly alien, a little off putting, but still undeniably beautiful. 

It helps that their skin comes in almost every shade of the rainbow. Vesen’s is a soft lilac, though you wouldn’t catch Jin admitting it. Nor should he even be thinking about how Vesen’s slightly-leaner-than-human nostrils are a little darker purple at the moment as they wriggle and flex with what looks like blatant irritation.

Thankfully, Vesen’s attitude keeps most amorous thoughts of Jin’s to a minimum. The guy’s taciturn, stoic, and doesn’t really give a shit about anyone but himself. He’s got a superiority complex too, but no one at the precinct seems to care. Everyone’s dealing with their own Kheelen partners and the messy diplomatic shitstorms they tend to kick up. It’s just unlucky Jin got the biggest fucking prick of the bunch. 

He’s good at what he does though. They call him the Wraith. Jin has never seen anyone move like Vesen does, not even other Kheelen. At the very least, he’s not going to die with him as a partner.

At least, not from phaser fire. He may die from another problem entirely if the guy doesn’t stop sniffling like a leaky faucet next to him for the rest of this ride.

Jin squirms in his seat slightly and tries not to glance at Vesen out of the corner of his eye. Lean, purple forearms are braced against raised knees as the alien sits slightly crunched in the front seat. The seat is pulled all the way back but his legs are so damn long it’s impossible to make him comfortable. Jin thinks about getting the chief to requisition them some new vehicles. This is hardly fair.

Vesen’s dark silk hair is shaved down the sides of his skull and then braided across the top of his head and hung down his back, the braid extending all the way to the bottom of his spine. Self-consciously, Jin runs a hand through his own dark hair. Regulation cut. No frills. Pretty underwhelming all things considered.

His fingers come away dusty when he sets his hand back on the wheel. He frowns at his fingertips, rubbing them together slightly. The warehouse they raided today looked like it had been abandoned for decades. Maybe longer. He’s going to need a full decontamination shower after this—

“h-nNDT!”

His stomach drops. But coolly, he slides his eyes over to his passenger and finds Vesen as relaxed as ever. He’d stifled with barely a sound or movement at all. Only a slight irritated blink gives him away as he recovers

Jin could ignore it, and probably should. But the words are off his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

“I didn’t even know you could sneeze.”

He can feel the simmering fury radiating from the seat beside him as Vesen turns his head. Dark eyes bore into the side of his skull. Jin knows that look without even having to see it—imperious, infuriated.

Then, flatly in the dark baritone he’s come to loathe, Vesen responds, “Why would we not?”

Jin shrugs, “I dunno. Your biology is different from ours in a ton of different ways, I thought maybe you guys just didn’t.”

Vesen sniffs softly. The sound lashes a current of electricity up Jin’s spine.

“That is preposterous.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jin concedes, “You have noses and you breathe air, so it stands to reason.”

“You—hh?” Vesen pauses, gasps and turns his head away, pressing his knuckle to his septum and flinching into another soundless stifle. He recovers with a dry sniffle and swears in his own language. Jin hasn’t picked up the translation just yet, but he understands the intent just fine.

“Bless you,” he says, and feels a certain thrill at saying it. Especially to Vesen, who by all accounts probably is taking this all as a knock to his pride.

As if on cue, the alien gives him a reproachful look. “What?” he snaps.

Jin waves a hand, “It’s a human saying…well, in some regions. When someone sneezes.” 

“Foolish.”

“What do the Kheelen say when someone sneezes?”

“Why are you so interested, Jin-young?”

Jin’s cheeks flush slightly. The question is an honest one, but it’s said with just the right amount of judgment that it feels like it’s getting too close to the truth. He clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders.

“Just making conversation. We’re supposed to be learning about each other, right?”

There’s a long pause. The inside of the car is tense. Finally, Vesen sniffs lightly and sighs.

“We do not say anything. It is not a…common occurrence.”

He says this with a bit of embarrassment, which piques Jin’s interest tenfold. No wonder he hadn’t been sure if the Kheelen even possessed this biological function—he’s worked with enough of them for long enough now he was bound to have seen it happen at least once. But it’s never come up before. Not until this at least.

 Trying to keep the angle of the conversation on scholarly curiosity rather than selfish, Jin tilts his head.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Vesen doesn’t answer for a moment, and when Jin looks over he sees why. The alien is caught with his eyes half-lidded, mouth parted slightly, a shuddering breath quaking under his vest. He shakes his head and suddenly bows it, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth. A very human pose, Jin thinks, despite only having four fingers on each hand.

“hH’DDIISSShhyue!” 

Vesen rises from his hands instantly and doesn’t give Jin time to bless him, or even react, “We are a very hardy species. Unlike humans, it takes a great deal to afflict our sensibilities.”

Just to be a dick, Jin blesses him anyway. Vesen cuts him a watery glare before Jin continues, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, “But…something is clearly uh…afflicting you now, right?”

Vesen sniffs pointedly, “It appears so.”

Jin’s boiling alive under his uniform all of a sudden. He knows he should stop fanning the fire but his mouth is moving faster than his brain, and he can’t help but keep asking questions. The slightly stuffy quality to Vesen’s deep voice as this progresses isn’t helping things either. He white-knuckles the steering wheel.

“I wonder what it is,” he hums, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.” Flat, unmoved, typical Vesen. Jin almost rolls his eyes.

“Then, are you sick?”

“I am not ill.”

“Then I’m at a loss, bud."

“It is not your concern, Jin-young,” Vesen assures him, but in that slightly dismissive way that seems to suggest it never was to begin with. 

That might have been it, and for a few moments Jin thinks it’s over. But after a lengthy pause, he hears Vesen take a clipped breath beside him. Then, he lowers his face slowly into his hands once more and Jin tenses, waiting for the inevitable. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the alien’s massive shoulders rising with a swell of breath before—

“hhH-rrSCHH!” Stronger and harsher than the one that came before it. Vesen lifts his head, thinking he’s finished, but is taken by two itchy sounding ones almost immediately after. He doesn’t bother lowering his head again and merely sneezes freely, misting his own palms as he shudders into them. “Chhssyu! ccHSH!”

“Okay, see, it is kind of my concern,” Jin reasons, and leans over to reach past Vesen’s knees for the glove box, “Because you’re my partner and now I’m officially worried.”

Vesen isn’t listening. He’s lost in the throes of whatever it has meant to finally give into this tickle that’s been plaguing him since they left the warehouse. His hands still cupped in front of him, his upper lip curls back slightly as he gears up for another. Jin unlocks the glove box, the back of his hand drifting against Vesen’s knee for a moment.

“Sorry,” he says, his heart pounding.

Vesen responds in kind with a stuttered gasp and another powerful sneeze. 

 “hH? hhH! ehH’HDJSshoo!” 

He wrenches to the side at the last second to try and direct it against the window but Jin still feels the spray of it against his forearm and nearly loses control of the fucking car. He manages to somehow keep them alive and also force a wad of napkins into Vesen’s hands. 

“Here, Vesen.”

 Vesen gathers the crumpled paper and presses it to his dripping nose. He blows hard—Jin didn’t know they did that either—which seems to help just for a moment.

“I’m gonna get you back to headquarters, okay?” Jin says, trying not to let his voice shake. He’s almost certain Vesen can hear his heart pounding but he’s hoping he’s a little too distracted by the itch to notice.

Vesen nods blearily and gets one liquid sniffle in before something sets him off again. He holds the sodden napkins just slightly away from him and sneezes against them in short bursts. “aeh’ESSCH! chSSCH! t’SHH!”

“Jesus, you gonna make it?” Jin asks. Am I?

“Focus on your driving, Jin-young,” Vesen says evenly and dabs at his nose, “There is no need for alarm.”

Ah, good. So Vesen can hear his heartbeat, but he thinks it’s anxiety, not anything else. Good. Jin can roll with that, at least. Interspecies relations are hard enough without adding weird kinks to the mix. 

“Are you sure? Because—“

“hH’RRSsch!”

“You sound like—“

“hHuh’IISH! ISHH! hh-Hh?…”Vesen pauses on the last one, hanging in limbo with his gaze flickering on the horizon. Jin waits for him, watching his throat bob as the urge takes him.

“hhH’yyIISSHAh!”

Vesen cups that one into his palm, though it does nothing to lessen the volume.

Jin swallows, “Wow. Because you sound like you’re getting worse.”

“A passing ihhritation,” Vesen says, somehow managing to sound cold while his voice wavers. 

In other words: drop it. 

But Jin can already see his face twitching around the need to sneeze again. It’s five more minutes back to the station and god, if he can even get out of his squad car to walk in it’ll be a fucking miracle. Either way, he’s in trouble. They’re supposed to watch out for their Kheelen counterparts in the field. Have each other’s backs. Bringing one back sneezing his goddamn head off seems like the opposite of that. 

“Should we open a window?” Jin asks.

Vesen nods through his next sneeze and fumbles for the controls on the side panel as he snaps forward.

“aeh’eESSCHUu!” 

Jin gets the controls going on his own side for him and both windows peel open. City air streams through the car. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it’s not terrible either. Jin grew up here so it’s part and parcel of his being. He can’t imaging what it must be like for the Kheelen. Breathing sweet, fresh air every day of their own planet to now…this. Maybe that’s why Vesen in particular is so sensitive. Or maybe he’s overthinking it.

A tired, weak sneeze is directed out towards the open air and into Vesen’s curled fist as the alien leans to the window. “hh’iIShoo!” 

“Bless. Any better?” Jin asks.

“It smells of smog and metal,” Vesen complains and slides his finger under his nose, wicking moisture away petulantly.

“Everyone’s a critic.”

They ride the rest of the way in relative quiet, Vesen with his head out the window like a dog and Jin lowering his body temperature to acceptable levels. By the time they get to the precinct he’s actually able to stand up and get out of the squad car and can feel everything below the waist. 

Just in time for Vesen to come around the side of the car and pin him by the shoulder. Jin has to look up at him because he’s so tall, and his hand feels like a vice against him. Vesen could snap him like a twig if he wanted. Something he’s fond of reminding him.

“Tell anyone of what transpired here, Jin-young, and you will not live long enough to regret it,” Vesen hisses at him, pointed teeth flashing. 

It would be intimidating were it not for the inadvertent sniffle that follows as Vesen backs off. His eyes grow slightly hazy even as they try to bore into Jin’s and his hand loosens on his shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon big guy, one more?” Jin asks, eyes flashing.

Fury sparks in Vesen’s face before the need overtakes him entirely. His expression crumples as he releases Jin to cover his nose and mouth with his hand and flinches into it.

“h’NNDXT!”

A full body shudder runs the length of Jin’s body. He can feel his lower belly melting again. 

He smiles, “Bless you.” 

Vesen growls and shoves at Jin with his opposite hand as he sniffles in recovery. He bares his teeth at him. 

“Be quiet,” he says before turning away and heading toward the precinct steps.

“I think we bonded today!” Jin calls after him, “We’re making progress! Pioneers of human and Kheelen relations, you and me!” 

[a-leg-without-fear]

Medium Peppermint latte for Matt Murdock with police reader that doesn't know that he's daredevil but she knows he's lying to her that get into an agurement but she storms off and on her night shift she got shot (nothing deadly)

Oooooohh I love this!! One peppermint latte, coming up!

It was a dangerous thing to be distracted.

Your mind chased itself in circles over the argument you'd had with Matt earlier. A near screaming match between you and the lawyer. Voices loud and strained as you debated the very fundamentals of your relationship.

"I just don't understand why you're lying to me!" you exclaimed, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. Frustration and anxiety leaked into the edges of your chest like oil in water.

Matt blew out an irritated puff of air, "What exactly do you think I'm lying about?"

You threw him an incredulous look you knew he couldn't see. His dark hair was ruffled, the strands wild after his fingers had carded through them one too many times. Strong hands clutched at his hips.

"Why the fuck are you constantly covered in bruises? Where do you go at night? What aren't you telling me?" you questioned harshly. It was exhausting, repeating the same questions over and over again.

"One, I'm blind. Two, I don't go anywhere. Three, nothing!" Matt replied. An aggravated groan rumbled your chest. You'd been interrogating people long enough to know when someone was lying to you. Lawyer or not, you could see right through him.

"That's it. I'm leaving," you said with a grimace. You couldn't handle the lies. Each time they spouted from his mouth, another spike was driven into your heart. Why. Why did he feel like he needed to lie to you?

"Sweetheart, please," Matt called after you as you stormed away. Your work boots stamped along the hardwood floor. The cold doorknob dug into your palm as you tightly gripped it.

"I'll see you later. Come up with a better excuse by then," you said, wrenching open the door. The hinges squeaked under the sudden movement.

Matt shouted your name as you slammed the door behind you.

Now you sat in the car you shared with your partner, Stu. He was an older gentlemen. Beer belly stretching the buttons of his uniform, gray hair balding near the crown of his head, a warm smile typically stretched across his thin lips.

Stu was a kind man, and an even better partner. There wasn't anyone else on the force you'd rather spend your evening patrols with.

"A lot on your mind tonight?" he asked, lowering his coffee cup from his lips. Brown eyes traced the furrow in your brow and the frown lines surrounding your mouth.

"You could say that," you sighed in return. Your own coffee had long since grown cold, the drink sitting untouched in your cupholder. The crackle of the police radio filled the silence of the car.

"We've got a 10-65 at 56th and 11th. All nearby units reply," a feminine voice, Cheryl, said through the radio. You scooped up the plastic microphone from its place on the dashboard.

"This is patrol #8675. We are two blocks out. Heading over there now," you replied into the microphone. Stu turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life. Cheryl's voice crackled through the speakers confirming your location.

"Should make for an interesting night," Stu mused as he pulled the car out of your typical parking spot. You huffed a laugh, reaching up to flick on the lights and siren at the top of the car.

As your cop car zipped through the streets of New York, your mind wandered back to the fight with Matt. What the hell was he keeping from you? What was so important to keep a secret that he'd risk your relationship over it? Did he think the half answers and weak apologies were cutting it? Were salvaging the tension between the two of you? You bit at your fingernails as your thoughts swirled.

Stu swerved the car to a stop in front of a jewelry store. The front window had been smashed, glittering shards of glass littered along the pavement. A blaring alarm screamed from somewhere inside the store.

About five men, from what you could tell, were frantically gathering as much jewelry as they could find. Shoveling necklaces and rings and loose gemstones into black sacks. A quick glance informed you that all of them were armed. Some having pistols shoved in their pockets or clutched in their hands, others having rifles and shotguns slung over their shoulders.

Dread pooled in your gut. Situations like these didn't end well. Someone was getting shot tonight., and you hoped to God it wouldn't be you.

It seemed that the robbers had noticed your arrival. Two of the men, both with automatic rifles, scrambled to the front of the store while brandishing their weapons. You took in a deep, rattled breath, then opened your door. The comforting weight of your pistol clutched in your hands grounded you as you positioned yourself behind the door, body shielded by the car with your gun held over the top.

"This is the NYPD! Come out with your hands above your heads!" you yelled at the men. A few exchanged looks between their masked faces.

"I ain't goin' back to jail!" one of the men, wearing a black jacket and holding an automatic rifle, screamed in defiance. He aimed the gun at where you stood behind the car door.

"Put down your weapon!" you shouted quickly. It was getting more difficult to hide the tremor in your voice. Stu clambered out of the driver's side and mirrored your position behind his car door, his own pistol gripped in shaking hands.

A loud bang echoed from the man in the jacket. Bright light flashed from the rifle and nearly made you squint. In a split second, piercing pain erupted from your left bicep. You cried out, ducking behind the car door, then gripped at the fresh wound in your arm. Thick spurts of blood leaked from the bullet hole.

"Let us go, old man, or you'll be next!" the man who'd shot you yelled. You grit your teeth at the shocks of agony that coursed through you with every breath.

"Drop the weapon and put your hands in the air!" Stu shouted back. You heard the hammer of his gun click as he loaded a round into the chamber. This is turning into a firefight.

The night air was thick with building tension. Static gathered under your skin, anxiety gripping your throat in a tight vice. The men in the jewelry store remained quiet as they seemed to wait for Stu's response.

"Holy shit," he breathed after a few tense moments.

Meaty thuds and grunts cut through the tense silence. The occasional pop of a gunshot ringing out, often cut off by a groan of pain and then a body hitting the ground. Metal pinged off solid objects like hitting a wall with a lead pipe.

You looked at Stu through the inside of the car. He was watching the scene unfold before him with concentrated focus. A glimmer of amazement shone in his squinted eyes.

"The hell's going on over there?!" you hissed, the throbbing in your arm making it difficult to form words. Stu opened and closed his mouth for a bit before responding.

"It's-It's Daredevil," he breathed with wide eyes. Your eyebrows shot into your hairline.

"What?!" you sputtered. Using your undamaged arm, you gripped at your car door and peered around the edge.

Sure enough, the red-suited vigilante bounced between the men in the jewelry store like a muscley ping-pong ball. Gloved fists colliding with masked faces, metal clubs slamming into stomachs and shins, red boots shoving back anyone who dared get too close. It was almost impressive, how effortlessly this guy moved.

The last of the men fell unconscious to the ground. Daredevil stood above the pile of thieves, broad chest heaving and a trail of blood leaking from his nose. His helmeted head tilted in your direction.

It may have been a trick of the light, but you swore you saw a whisper of your name cross his plump lips.

Daredevil darted out of the destroyed jewelry store and towards the cop car. You used your car door for leverage to bring yourself back to your feet. A light sway dizzied your mind as your wound continued to bleed.

Red filled your hazy vision. Daredevil stood in front of you, a frown pulling at his lips, as surprisingly gentle hands held you upright.

"You've been shot," the vigilante stated. The lenses in his mask nearly glowed crimson in the glare of the streetlights. You swallowed a nervous lump that'd gathered in your throat.

"Y-Yeah. Thanks for the assist," you mumbled in amazement. What the hell was Daredevil doing here? And why was he worried about you? You were just a run-of-the-mill, New York City cop. What was so special about you that had the Devil of Hell's Kitchen clutching you like you'd break?

"Let me bring you home," he breathed. The soft lilt of his request scratched at your brain. He sounded so familiar. Had you met him before?

"She needs a hospital," Stu called out over the top of the car. Daredevil's head tilted sharply at your partner's voice.

It was then that the recognition tickling your brain finally settled. The quirk at the corner of the vigilante's lips, the stubble brushed along his sharp jaw, the low tone of his voice.

Matt.

But... How? How? How the fuck was Matt Daredevil?

He'd seemed to notice the hitch in your breath. His focus shifted back to you, lensed eyes reflecting your shocked expression back at you.

"You alright, sweetheart?" he muttered quietly, just loud enough for only you to hear. Yup. That's Matt.

"He can take me home, Stu. I'll be fine," you said over your shoulder. You couldn't bare to pry your gaze away from the vigilante in front of you.

A smirk danced along Matt's lips. Subtle, teasing, almost begging you to say what you were thinking. You'd punch that smug look off his face if you could move your arms.

The two of you were definitely having a talk tonight.

[gxlds-doodles]

was thinking abt how much i miss the 2014-2015 era fnaf fandom and it's interpretations of the characters (oh vincent purple guy how i miss you.) so new au alert!! lil chibis of my vincent n phone guy <3 designs are very much inspired by the popular designs for them around that time (originally popularized/created by rebornica i believe - though these are completely separate from their au i am not associated with them in any way shape or form) 🎉✧ SUPER COOL EPIC LORE INFO UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!! ✧🎉

general lore ☆ basically a whole rewrite - not because i have issues with the story (i stopped paying full attention after sister location tbh) just for fun!! again very much based on me missing 2010s fnaf fandom that was PEAK to me ☆ i still tie in some pieces of the lore but for the most part. forget what u know abt fnaf this is a whole rewrite (ex. animatronics are sentient but not possessed by children - not possessed at all in fact!! except for perhaps a few exceptions but i'm working on it) ☆ these two have quite a lot of canon lore tie-ins but beyond these two it's different LOL ☆ set in or around 2014, timeline is a wip vincent dorian (formerly afton) ☆ italian on his dad's side, armenian on his mom's side ☆ william afton's only child, born while freddy's was open but doesn't remember it rlly - his father and henry emily were co-owners/business partners but split ways (aka william got fired bc henry found out what he did. why he didn't bring this to the cops i'm still working out) soon after he was born ☆ raised by william as a single father ☆ was forced to help his father kill since he was like 12 this guy's got TRAUMA. ☆ still deciding on why he's purple (boy why you ourple.) but ik that it's william's fault. idk if i wanna go the walking corpse route like with michael in canon yet ☆ cuts off his dad when he's 18 - moves out on his own, etc. ☆ still kills for reasons i am currently working on however he does NOTTTT kill children ☆ starts working at freddy's at 27 as a way to 'rebel' against his dad, even if he hasn't seen him in yeeears by this point ☆ night guard at first, eventual day shift guard and sometimes a technician when needed ☆ his hair is naturally still black - he dyes it purple bc he thinks it looks cool ☆ his red scrunchie matches the red of phone guy's head <3 scott emily ☆ THE DRAWING IS OF A VERY SPECIFIC POINT IN THE AU I HAVE YET TO FLESH OUT it's not the most reflective of his character overall ☆ puerto rican ☆ henry emily's only child - remembers a tiny bit about william, remembers being scared shitless of him ☆ gets caught in a fire set by william when he's 16. he barely makes it out alive ☆ henry makes him the phone head mask thing. it can *technically* be removed but it never is bc it keeps the scars that never quite fully healed from getting worse ☆ head somehow works like a real phone... don't ask i just thought the idea of him ringing when he feels strong emotions is rlly funny (henry makes sentient animatronics in this au he can do anything. everyone say ty plot device dad!!) ☆ has some sort of contacts made by his dad that allow him to see through the phone ☆ grew up with the restaurant, his dad managed the location he's currently at until passing the business and the manager position onto him when he was 25 and henry was ready to retire ☆ henry told scott the full truth about william shortly before retiring - including that he set the fire that he got caught in. it's made him pretty paranoid that he's coming for him or something's gonna happen to him, even if neither of them have heard from william since then and he's essentially off the grid ☆ always at the restaurant during opening hours but rarely ever seen bc he doesn't want to scare any of the kids with his phone head vincent & scott ☆ yes they're dating. everyone cheer!! early fandom purplephone was my SHITTTT i love them so much ugh they r everything 2 me ☆ ngl they remind me of poolverine (deadpool x wolverine). vincent is deadpool (VERY accurate.) and scott is wolverine (less accurate but their dynamic stands) ☆ scott finds vincent annoying at first but eventually warms up to him and now he loooooves him. he's still annoying but he loooooooooves him ☆ scott doesn't know vince is william's son at first since he changed his surname and looks completely different ☆ they're just rlly cute and deeply in love and got some angsty shit going on later but that'll be a surprise oooo

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom I don't want my older brother moving back in?

People involved: Me (F25), my mom (F55), my older half brother ("Joe", M39), Joe's wife ("Nina", F28)

This situation is way too long and messy to give a full account of, so I'm gonna give the super condensed version. My mom has a lot of health problems and medical debt, and I live with her to help her. We both work 2 jobs to make ends meet and the house is falling apart in some places, but we're barely getting by.

Joe has been living with our grandmother for the last few years, but she's selling her house and moving into an assisted living facility. Joe has known about this for 2 months, and called my mom in tears 2 days before they close on the house asking her for help. Him and Nina have nowhere to put their dog (a rottweiler). Him and Nina have nowhere to put their boat (that they never use and I have no idea why he still has). Him and Nina have nowhere to stay (he had 2 months to find somewhere???)

One of my hard rules when I moved in with my mom is that Joe and Nina not be allowed back in the house for many, many reasons. To name just a few:

Nina is the reason Joe lost his 4 children 6 years ago, and the reason he hasn't done anything to get them back. She failed a drug test while she was pregnant with another man's baby (yes, she cheated on Joe). The baby was taken away as soon as it was born, and she was court ordered to not be around Joe's children until she passed a hair follicle test. Joe brought her around his children. Their bio mom found out and took him to court. Joe lost them. Now he can't even begin the process of getting them back until he and Nina can pass a drug test. Our family has offered to pay for said drug tests, but Nina refuses. She says she doesn't do drugs anymore and could pass it, but she just doesn't want to deal with the kids. Joe is apparently fine with this.

Joe and Nina both have stolen from nearly everyone in our family. They were regularly stealing from my grandmother while they lived with her, all of our aunts and uncles and most of our cousins have cut contact with them because they steal from them at holidays and birthdays.

Nina is lazy as fuck and can't do anything for herself. She lays in bed all day while Joe works 2, sometimes 3 jobs to support their drug habit. She won't cook. She won't clean. If she wants something she SCREAMS for Joe to get it for her.

And probably most importantly: Joe and Nina have stayed here dozens of times before, and it has never ended well. They always say they're only gonna be here a week or 2, but it always turns into months. They always trash the house. They always steal from me and my mom. They always drink and do drugs in our house. Several times I've gotten into physical altercations with Nina when I find her snooping through my room. The last time they were here we found out Joe was prostituting Nina for drugs from our house. We found this out because the cops came looking for them, and told us our house was "a known drug house". When they left, they told the family they left because I was a drug addict who was stealing from THEM.

Now I'll admit: all of this happened years ago, pre 2020. Joe SAYS he and Nina are clean, but I've heard that before. Joe SAYS they just need a month or 2 to find a place to stay, but I've heard that before. Joe SAYS he and Nina are sorry for how they treated us in the past, but I've heard that before.

My mom is a bleeding heart softie and is ready to let Joe come back with open arms, but I put my foot down and told her if he moves in I move out, and she KNOWS he won't help like I do. She tearfully told my brother he can't stay here, and has since been moping about how he's still her son, how she can't believe I'd put her in this position, how no one will give Joe a chance to prove he's changed, etc etc. But I just feel like I HAVE given Joe dozens of chances, and it's not my fault he kept throwing them back in my face. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Okay okay with all the script hate for ATSV I'd like to at least take a moment to praise How they did Hobie right

And why they got Miguel wrong.

Mini-Ramble: The Concept of 'Can-dom'

a.k.a the writers really love Hobie and just fucking hate Miguel and it's borderline funny.

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

So, you know we are called fans, and we have a fandom. The fandom writes 'fanon'.

But what do you call the group of people who write canon?

And can the people who write canon also be a fandom in and of itself?

As someone who has worked on TV and film sets in NYC - across a couple of different departments - I can assure you:

YES.

And they act JUST LIKE US.

And I call it Can-dom.

And there's no better example of this, than the ATSV script.

Look at how they talk about Hobie:

To the writer who described Hobie as 'strong, long, and skinny-hot' and his guitar as 'throbbing' idk what you were on that day but keep it up.

Look at them rubbing their little writer hands together going 'hehehe they're gonna love this mfer to death he's so hot'

Miles calling Hobie cool and Hobie agreeing is literally just the writers complimenting themselves on how insanely rad and attractive they made their own character. I love it.

They could've done so much worse or described him as rowdy or cocky or rough but they're just like 'he's hot. really fucking hot.'

And everybody was in on it.

The designers read the script and was like 'really really attractive? the coolest fucking guy you've ever seen? ok boss'

and then drew a black cop killer with natural hair and beautiful sharp black features

Then the animation team looked at Hobie and was like YEAH HE'S SUPER FUCKING COOL

Then made a supercool technology just for the insanely rad punk character

AND THEY WENT TO DANIEL KALUUYA and had him do the super cool ironic funny lines for the super cool rad fan-favorite-to-be character

And then the whole production team looked at Hobie and they all looked back at their work and his arc and lines and design and animation style and they were like

Because after months and months and months of collective effort and going 'this guy has to be so likeable that disliking him is almost a moral failing'

And then just like us they finally saw the finished product and we're like

'THAT'S A WRAP. CUT. SEND THIS SHIT TO THE PRINTERS. He can't get any cooler we did it.'

Cause as someone who has worked in TV & Film and had been in the offices I can tell you:

Screenwriters are not some big wigs that come to work in suits and sit around on chunky laptops in complete silence sending emails

They are normal ass people in a cramped ass office and cubicles who joke with their co-workers, come in in jeans and a 'casual tshirt', and sit there chilling revising the same script a dozen times because they came up with a new idea that HAS to be in it. And sometimes they be having dogs in the offices.

They're dorks just like us. That's how they got there. By obsessing over the tiniest minute shit in stories and getting way too into characters and writing out our little stories.

To think they were squealing about Hobie Brown this whole time for years while making him.

And then giving him to the fandom and we're like FUCKING THANK YOU HE'S OURS AND WE LOVE HIM.

I know a lot of the time it may come off as a shady corporation manipulating the punk aesthetic for revenue - while it is that - its also an office full of writers and animators and designers literally making a mini fandom between them and snickering at their own jokes and ideas as they write this story I love it

It makes me think that - while the language towards Miguel is like.. undoubtedly questionable and something of necessary discussion -

I also just think that the office fandom just.. didn't fucking like him.

Like in the writers room over time they didn't like him and wanted to bully him 'ayo this dude is a clown and he's wildin out like a BEAST'

And putting in lines of Gwen clowning him just because the writers wanted to make fun of Miguel 😭😭😭

like.. just the thought of that.

- and the thought of the ATSV writers team just ganging up on him only for the animation team to turn around and be like 'give him the thiccest ass imaginable. make it clap when he walk'

HILARIOUS.

And then for the production team to have to look at this script of Miguel and look at his dummy think design and just sigh and be like 'fine okay the lines are fine but you HAVE TO TONE THE ASS DOWN'.

We bully our OCs all the time

And yeah they took that shit wayyyy too far cause like... The Spot murdered people why are y'all not looking at him and also Gwens dad is an asshole

But a part of me feels like the writers and production were fandom before fandom was fandoming.

Just like us they hyperfixated on two characters, the same characters the fandom would later.

And like the fandom originally did, they really really liked Hobie and just REALLY REALLY REALLY didn't like Miguel.

We're all like 'haha let's bully the shit outta Miguel as a little treat' and then they start taking it too far 😭😭

I'm just going to lay myself to (semi-)peace with this thought. I know it's pure speculation - I repeat, speculation - but like, writers are genuinely just like us. I wouldn't put it past them.

With the way the script is narrated I wouldn't be surprised if the first draft they put

**MIGUEL collapses to the ground with GABRIELLA in his hands as she DEPIXELATES. A look is devastation crosses his face. Ha, get owned, you fucking idiot.**

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

Also they absolutely know about fanfiction. I haven't heard them talk about it and I don't know how much they know. But they know.

They may not be in the shows fandom, but they've usually been into older fandoms like Star Trek and thus know about the fanfic and shipping stuff.

If you read this far!! Hey hi how ya doing thank you for listening to my rambling. I wouldn't call this a full essay cause it's just my thoughts and opinions and like.... thoughts???

Anyway here's Hobie to make up for the fact I just said a whole lotta nothing

(actual picture of me arsoning the Sony headquarters if they fuck up Hobies characterization and make me regret this post lol)

Bye.

[moremaybank]

THIS LOVE (IV) — j.m

pairing actor!jj maybank x actress!reader

chapter summary you're set to turn down your management team's proposal, but a familiar face pops up and changes your decision. the plan is set in motion, and jj begins to move into your house. upon his arrival, you two share a moment that quickly turns sour and drives you away from him further.

warnings luke maybank (bleh), a trip and fall, an almost-kiss, language. let me know if i've missed any! [4.5k]

recommended listening daddy issues by the neighbourhood, nights like this by kehlani

this love — the complete playlist ;; the masterlist ;; the tag list

❝ CHAPTER FOUR ❞

Y/N

You press the lock button on your car keys, hearing the doors click. You make your way through the parking lot of Floyd Management. You’re about to tell Josh and Andrea that you’re saying no. You just can’t imagine having to embark on this journey with someone who left you with so much pain that it drowns out all the good times.

Contrary to what everyone may believe, this was not a rash decision. You chewed on it, going back and forth for days about whether or not you should just suck it up and agree to this fake relationship nonsense for the sake of the movie and the opportunities it might bring you. But then you thought about having to spend most of your time by the side of the man who broke your heart, kissing him and acting as if you’re in love with him. Re-connecting with JJ made your wounds feel so fresh again, and jumping on board with this plan would only add salt. 

And it’d sting.

You’re halfway to the entrance when you hear the voice of someone you never thought you’d have to deal with ever again. 

“Hey, there, sweetheart. You sure have done well for yourself.”

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, and you instantly grow cold. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to come.

“What are you doing here, Luke? Shouldn’t you be in prison?” 

Luke rounds your body so he can speak to you face to face. He raises a hand to toy with a strand of your hair but you flinch, backing away immediately and keeping your distance. All he does is laugh softly.

“You’ve definitely grown up. Interested in taking the original Maybank for a spin? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice drops an octave and it makes your skin crawl.

“You’re disgusting. Get out of my way before I call the cops.”

“What are you gonna tell ‘em, darlin’? That I spoke to you?”

You stay silent, knowing that he’s right. He technically hasn’t done anything, and you’d simply look foolish.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you. I have a proposition for you, actually,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah?” You ask. “And what’s that?”

“I want you to help me take JJ down.”

You scoff. “I’m not helping you with anything.”

“You will if you don’t want me to release that sex tape of his and put an end to his career.”

You want to be surprised, but you aren’t. Luke Maybank has never been one to change or reflect on the mistakes of his past. He usually chooses the route of making more, and they’re always worse. And your sentiments weren’t just based on hearsay. You watched JJ go through all the misery caused by Luke. Had cleaned up the cuts and iced the bruises. Taken him to the hospital when his injuries were more than you could handle. You’d cook meals for him, bring an extra bag of lunch to school. Let him stay at your house when they’d shut off the power, water, and anything else they could thanks to Luke not paying the bills. He was an awful person, through and through, and though you were more than upset at JJ for how he scorned you, it’d never be enough to work with his father. 

“You know, all you ever did was make JJ feel small. You dedicated your life to drugs, alcohol and jail time, and you know what JJ got out of it? A mother who abandoned him thanks to your oh-so charming ways, and a father who did him more harm than good by sticking around. I wouldn’t help you if you were dying on the street,” you spit, shoving past him and trying to enter the building. 

“Then you can kiss your little costar goodbye.”

“Are you coked out right now? Or just delusional? I’m not going to let you do this to him. End of discussion,” you respond. 

“Well, you’d better hope JJ pays me and those girls that hush money. ‘Cause you know I’ll come to collect.”

-

JJ hurt you. The damage he’d done to you was once considered irreparable. It’d taken you years to work through that anger and betrayal and you still weren’t even a hundred percent there. But working with Luke? That was simply a line you’d never cross.

You ride the elevator to Josh’s floor, and once you reach it, you make a dash for the waiting area outside of his office. You spot the blonde you’re desperately in pursuit of instantly.

“I need to talk to you,” you blurt rather loudly. You don’t realize how booming your voice actually is until you realize that everyone else in the room is staring you down with confusion and shock written all over their faces.

JJ gets up from his seat and pulls you gently into a secluded area.“You didn’t need to come all the way down here to turn Josh and Andrea’s proposal down. I get that you don’t want to help me. I mean, why would you after what I did?”

“JJ—”

“No, it’s okay. Seriously, I did it to myself, and—”

You can’t wait any longer. “I saw Luke.”

JJ goes quiet immediately upon hearing those words. He’s so in shock that he doesn’t answer you right away.

“Did— Did you know that he was here?” You question, though you know the answer. You doubt he knew, because if he did, he wouldn’t be as quiet as he is at this moment.

He shakes his head slowly, “Nah…Nah, I didn’t.” He visibly chews on his words before hesitantly speaking again. “Did he…hurt you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Just in shock.”

He nods. “He say what he wanted?”

You moisten your lips, and your eyes abandon his. “He wants me to work with him…help him destroy your career.”

“Right,” he nods, crossing his arms. “Of course he does.” 

You watch him pace down the hallway, but not too far, holding his head in his hands. 

“Goddamn it!” He bites out. The JJ you used to know would’ve punched through the wall in front of him by now, and you can tell that the current JJ wants to, but he holds himself back. Once he calms himself down a tad, he turns back to you. His steps are large, helping him make his way to you quickly. “Where is he? I’m gonna kill him for going near you, and then I’m gonna kill him again for trying to fuck with my life.”

“JJ, don’t. He’s not worth the energy,” you say, trying to talk him down from the ledge he’s on.

His hands come to rest on your shoulders. “Y/N, he approached you. He could’ve hurt you. And I wasn’t even there to…” he pauses, taking a breath, “to protect you.”

Your eyes dart away from his once again as your body tenses at his touch. He senses your discomfort, and pulls away from you immediately. “Uh,” he clears his throat, “Sorry.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s— it’s fine. You’re shaken up. And understandably so.”

Your eyes cautiously find his again once you find the courage, and you can see that he’s trying not to crumble. You know hearing his name alone is terrorizing, and now that he has to deal with Luke trying to rip away everything he’s ever worked for…your heart hurts.

“I wanna help you.”

JJ’s head instantly shakes, notifying you of his disapproval. “No. I don’t want your pity. I’ll be okay, I’ll figure this shit out. It’s my own fault that I’m in this mess anyway.”

“It’s not pity, JJ. I might not be thrilled to work with you or about what you did, but…I’d never knowingly let Luke hurt you.”

“You…you don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t,” you tell him. “I want to. But I need you to understand that this doesn’t make things okay. It’s just about work. Business. It can’t be anything more than that.”

“Well,” he says, proceeding with an immense amount of caution. “Will you at least let me tell you what actually happened that day? It’s tearing me apart, Y/N/N.”

For the first time since you’d seen him again, your heart warms at his use of your childhood nickname. You missed it terribly, and you partially wanted to slap yourself and bring yourself back to reality. You’re scared. He’s starting to make the walls you’ve spent so long putting up crack just by speaking to you and having that ache in those damn blue eyes.

“I’m not…I’m not ready, and I definitely don’t want to rehash everything right before we do this. Let’s just go into this meeting, tell everyone that we’re on board and take things one step at a time.”

“But, Y/N—”

“JJ, please don’t make this any harder for me.”

JJ looks into your eyes, and you hate it, but you both know you’re on the verge of falling apart. “Yeah. All right.”

-

“You know, if you weren’t paying us to do damage control, JJ, I’d say that you were trying to kill me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not that I’m his biggest fan, but this isn’t his fault. It’s on Luke. He’s always been selfish like this,” you add, trying to ease the prominent frown lines on Josh’s forehead.

Josh nods, “Yeah, I know. But I just don’t know how we go about this now. I mean, if we pay the hush money, there’s still a ninety-nine percent chance that Luke leaks the tape.”

“Then maybe we release it ourselves, like you and Andrea said,” you suggest. “That way, we can control how the public views it, and Luke won’t be able to hang it over our heads anymore. He’ll have nothing.” 

“Great,” JJ huffs, running both hands through his hair. “Now everyone’s gonna know I’m an ass.”

“Some of us already know that.” You earn a laugh from Josh, and a small smile from JJ to which you return. The both of you know that you’re half-joking, so nothing is taken too seriously. “For real, though. We explain to the media how Luke orchestrated the whole thing. It’s not the perfect solution, but it’s better than them getting to the public first.”

“All right, well, I have to talk to Andrea and get everything sorted out, but we need to get a head start on moving you two in together. My guess is that you’re going to need a few days to get used to being in each other’s lives again, especially if we want the public to believe that you two are in love. Oh, and we need to get a press conference planned so we can release your porno.”

“Can we not call it a porno?” JJ asks, half-heartedly glaring at him.

“It’s funnier that way.” JJ rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but snort. “Andrea and I will ensure that you know what you’re going to say about it.” 

“Nah. I got this. I’ll run it by you guys, but I know what I’m gonna say.” 

While they’re speaking about their upcoming plans, your heart is about to burst right out of your chest, and not in a good or exciting way. Pretending to love someone is one thing, but pretending to be in love with someone who you were enamoured with for over a decade after getting your heart stomped on by them…let’s just say it’s a completely different ball game. Yes, you’d convinced yourself that helping JJ was the right thing to do, mostly because you feared what Luke would do to him if you didn’t. But it’s now dawning on you that this is no longer just about filming a movie. Now you two are going to be watched constantly, even more so if everyone believes that you’re in a relationship. And not only that, but the tabloids will be inserting themselves into it constantly, which will more than likely complicate things. That was proven when JJ made his declaration to the world.

JJ notices the worry flash over your face as your mind wanders. “Hey, are you sure we need to move in together, like, right now? Isn’t it a little soon?” 

“Well it’s not like we can spring you forth into the public when you can barely hold eye contact for a minute. They’ll never believe that you two are together. So, yeah. I’m sure.”

“So…when will this all be happening?” You ask. You aren’t even sure if they can hear you, because you can’t hear yourself. The only thing your ears are picking up on is a high pitched ring brought on by your nerves.

“As soon as possible. I’m thinking by the end of the week. But it all depends on which one of you is fine with moving the other one in.”

Your eyes widen at the possibility of having to move into JJ’s house. You’re sure he has a nice place. It’s not even about that. The thing is, you’re already forcing yourself to go along with this ploy. And now you’re facing the chance of losing the comfort of your home and happy place? 

“We can…we can use mine,” you voice out timidly. 

“No, I can’t let you do that. I’m already dragging you into my mess,” JJ argues, albeit lightly. “I won’t put you out like that.”

“Well, I don’t want to be ripped away from my house and everything I know, JJ. This is already a lot.”

He extends his hand out, like he wants to grab yours and hold it in his they way he used to when he was stressed, but it stutters and falls back into his lap. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Besides, I have a million rooms in there that I never go into anyway. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

He smiles slightly, “You got a game room?”

You know what he’s referring to, and you can’t help but sport your own tiny grin as well. “Of course I do.”

Flashback - Age 15

Y/N

“So, when you get outta here, and you become a superstar and buy an enormous mansion — which better have a bedroom reserved for me, by the way — what kinda rooms are you gonna put in it?”

You snorted a laugh. “What do you mean?”

He sat up from his place on your couch and rotated his body so that his head fell on your lap. He kicked his feet up on the other side, and looked up at you.

“Like, if I got my own mansion, the first thing I’d put in there is a game room. I’m talkin’ a pool table, a dart board, some arcade-style games like Pac-Man. A PlayStation. I dunno, the possibilities are endless. Oh! And I’d have a chess board for sure.”

You gave him a look, trying not to laugh. “You don’t know how to play chess, J.” 

“Hell nah, I don’t know how to play chess. It’ll make me look smart though.”

You hummed in agreement, letting your fingers run through his hair. You watched his eyes close as he relaxed into your touch. He let out an obnoxious moan when you started to scratch at his scalp lightly, and you smacked his chest with your other hand.

“Weirdo,” you mutter.

JJ simply laughs, before grabbing the same hand you’d whacked him with, holding it in his own. “Have you thought about it yet?”

“Thought about what?”

“What kind of rooms you’re gonna put in your house, dummy.”

You think for a moment. Different ideas float around, but then you land on one that you know you’ll make happen for sure. “Probably an entertainment room. Kinda like yours, but it’ll definitely have a big ass screen and comfy reclining seats like at the movies so I can feel like I’m in a theatre while crying my eyes out over my one millionth rewatch of One Tree Hill. It’ll have a mock concession stand, and a popcorn maker. And a Slurpee machine for good measure.” 

“Nice! I’m totally stealing that idea, just, without the whole crying over One Tree Hill part. ‘M not gonna waste my screen on that snooze-fest.”

“Oh, please. You were practically sobbing when Haley left Nathan to go on tour with Chris,” you mock. 

His eyes shoot open and his teasing smirk drops. “I thought we agreed that we’d never speak of that. I was high.”

“High on Naley, that is.” 

“Whatever.”

End of Flashback

“Then it’s settled,” Josh speaks, cutting you out of your daydream. “JJ, provided that Andrea and Y/N’s team are on-board, you’ll move into her house by Friday.”

Damn. Shit just got real.

JJ

It’s Friday, and JJ is now on his way over to your house in a U-Haul truck. He taps along to the rhythm of what he’s listening to on the radio, some Dua Lipa song that he’s certain is in the Barbie movie (and everyone should refrain from asking him how he knows that). The tapping is more mindless as he tries to settle the anxiety he has over this move. He knows that you’re already stretching yourself thin by agreeing to help him. But offering to let him move in to your house? Between this and his past mistakes, the guilt is starting to boil over.

Once he makes it to your gate, he hesitates for a moment before pressing the buzzer. 

“Who is it?” Your voice questions through the speaker.

“It’s J— ” he stammers, before correcting himself. “JJ.” 

So much for playing it cool. He couldn’t even say his name to you anymore.

“Oh, uh, hold on a sec. I’ll let you in. Just pull into the driveway, my security guy will come and help you.”

“Cool.” 

JJ hears a chime, and instantly, the gates begin to open. He drives through them, slowly pressing on the gas as he takes in the front view of your home. It’s fancy, but modest. A testament to you and your personality. 

Then, a tall man with a rather large build emerges from your front door and signals JJ to pull up to him. 

“You JJ?” He asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Y/N’s security guard, Dave,” the man speaks, introducing himself. He’s handsome — not that JJ noticed — and definitely more on the quiet side. “Throw the truck in park. I’ll get it unloaded it for you.”

JJ shakes his head. “Nah, man. At least let me give you a hand.”

“It’s all right. It’s easier this way. Go on inside, I’m sure Y/N will give you the grand tour.”

JJ gives Dave a nod, and approaches your doorway. This is it, he thinks. He enters your home, stepping into the foyer and taking a look around from where he’s standing. His eyes immediately land on two grand staircases parallel to each other, with a luxurious chandelier hanging right in the middle of them. It isn’t on, but thanks to the sunshine bleeding through the ceiling-high windows, it sparkles and casts a magical glow into your home. There was art hanging on the walls, sculptures on the front tables, and flowers that add a pop of colour into the monochromatic room. 

But something JJ can’t ignore is the smell wafting in from your kitchen. The unforgettable fragrance of your signature cinnamon rolls fill his nostrils and instantly take him back to much simpler times. He can practically see you now, with your hair clipped back and your World’s Best Baker apron secured behind your neck and your back. You undoubtedly have flour on your face, and your tongue poking out as you concentrate. 

You’d always been so domestic, a feeling that JJ longed to be around when he was younger. It’s nice to re-experience it now, even in his older age. Especially in his older age. He’s been coming home to an empty and quiet house for years now, and he hates it. It’s hard not to let the loneliness get to him.

As if you’re reading his thoughts, you yourself come through the entrance, just like he envisioned. Hair pulled back from your face, your same old apron attached to you (though it had worn a bit over the years), and a swipe of flour on your cheek. When you come directly in front of him, JJ’s tempted to reach out and wipe your cheek for you. Every time he did so when you were younger, the action never failed to pull a shy smile and heated cheeks from you. But now, he fears that you’ll back away and avoid him like the plague if he acts on his internal desires. So he doesn’t.

“Hey, have you been waiting here for long?”

“Nah. Not at all,” JJ assures you. He motions to your cheek, “You got a ‘lil something there.”

He watches you retrieve your phone from your back pocket and swipe to open your camera. Your mesmerizing eyes widen, threatening to pop out of your head as you scramble to scrub the powdery ingredient off of your face.

“Right,” you clear your throat, putting your phone back into your pocket. “So, uh, why don’t I give you a tour. Show you where you’ll be staying?”

“Sure,” JJ agrees.

“Okay, well, follow me.”

You turn around and begin to walk through the foyer. JJ, slightly distracted (okay, more than slightly) by your figure, stalls for a moment before his brain reminds him that he’s supposed to be trailing you. He takes large strides, catching up to you and praying that you didn’t notice. The two of you make your way around the main level, visiting the kitchen, dining room, living area. You show him the backyard, your pool complete with a swim-up bar and a hot tub. He notices that you have a few surfboards lined up against the wall of the change room and he smiles, happy memories of the two of you cruising the waves together back home flooding his mind. And last but not least, you made it to the room he’d been waiting for. Your rec room. 

It’s just as you described when you thought it out all those years ago. A huge screen for movies and TV. Rows of theatre-like reclining chairs. A snack bar with a Slurpee Machine. 

Next, you two focus on the gaming section. A colourful glow casts over the room thanks to the arcade machines, and it evokes a sense of nostalgia for JJ. His eyes light up as they trail over Pacman, Street Fighter 2, Super Mario Bros, Sonic the Hedge Hog, and Mario Kart. But the twinkle in his eyes lights up further when he sees Dance Dance Revolution in the far corner. 

“Hey, remember how we used to dominate at DDR back home? We massacred John B and Pope every time.”

You nod, the recollection of those times pulling at your heart strings. Still, you’re afraid of thinking too deeply on them. “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. And they aren’t here, so, I doubt it’d be as fun without them.”

JJ gives you an earnest look. “I get it, things are different now. But we live together now, Y/N. I want us to be able to get along. I don’t want us to feel like we have to avoid each other all the time, and I’m also not planning on spending the next couple months arguing with you every day. Maybe…maybe we could have fun. Make this whole arrangement bearable.” 

“JJ, it’s not that simple,” you say. 

He leans in, his voice soft. “I know it won’t magically fix everything, but we can try, right? For both of us?”

You gaze into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of sincerity. Sighing, you reluctantly give in. “Fine, but don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

He smiles triumphantly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”

The two of you step onto the dance pad, and JJ chooses a song. Slide by Calvin Harris pulsates through the room. Your movements synchronize as you dance, and soon, laughter is spilling out of your mouths and mixing in with the song. JJ can’t help but look at you for a moment, all smiley and happy in his company for the first time in weeks. It’s nice to see you letting loose around him, finally. Unfortunately, things quickly go south when his foot falters, and he stumbles, pulling you down with him. You crash onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, and JJ lands on top of you. 

Your faces are mere inches apart, your breaths mingling. For a fleeting moment, time stands still, and it feels like before. It’s like he’s been transported back to your adolescent years, still best friends and teetering back and forth on the line between best friends and something more. And just when he inches closer, debating on closing the gap between you, you scramble to get up, gently rolling him off of you and making a beeline for the door. 

“Y/N, wait!” He calls after you. He practically has to chase you down the hallway. He reaches out, fingers gently circling your wrist and stopping you from getting any further. “I…I thought we were having fun?”

“Fun?” You ask, your tone seeped with indignation. “JJ, you tried to kiss me! I should’ve known this was all some ploy of yours to get into my pants again. God, I should’ve known better.”

“Wait, what? Y/N, that’s not what this was,” JJ defends. “That whole game thing…I was trying to reconnect with you. I never meant to bring up the past for you and hurt you again.”

Your eyes avoid his, and he knows you’re too scared to look into them. He’d reach out and hold your head in his hands the way he used to, gently force your gaze onto him so you can see his vulnerability, but this isn’t the past. You don’t trust him the way you did before. Hell, you don’t trust him at all. So his hands remain at his sides.  

“I’m willing to try. I’m willing to earn back your trust, to show you that I’ve changed. But you gotta give me a chance. Please, Y/N, just give me a chance.”

You ignore his declaration, and his plea. “I’ll have Dave show you to your room. The bed’s all made up, so you shouldn’t have to do much.” 

JJ watches you walk down the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I have to get out of here.”

JJ wipes a hand over his face, letting out a sigh of frustration. He was finally getting somewhere with you. Things were looking up. But in a flash, they all went downhill, and now, he’s slowly losing faith. 

Good thing that isn’t going to stop him from fighting.

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