#it's a big part of what makes the ending feel Like That even if we don't consciously register the missing emotional beat

[fastandcarlos]

"Will You Be My Dad?" : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: where your daughter wants lewis to take on a new role in her life

“Come on, time for bed,” you smiled, scooping your daughter up off of the ground. 

Amelia let go of a groan as she stood to her feet, looking across at you with a pout. You’d already let her stay up much later than you usually did, treating her seeing as Lewis had come around to visit, knowing how much she loved spending time with him. Lewis couldn’t help but smile as she huffed, calling out to you, begging for a few more minutes with the two of you. 

It still felt like a dream for you sometimes as you glanced at Lewis, watching as he picked up some of Amelia’s toys and placed them back into her toy box. She was never too far away from him, practically glued to his side whenever he spent any time with you both. 

Ever since you and Lewis had started dating, Amelia had relished in it. She was only young when you started dating, she didn’t really know life without Lewis in it, all she knew was that although he loved you, he wasn’t the man that she called dad, despite being the one to raise her. 

As Amelia continued to groan, Lewis quickly stepped in. He scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom, throwing her down onto her bed as she giggled away to himself. 

No matter what the situation, whenever you were struggling Lewis was there to step in. He saw Amelia as his own, he treated her as if she was. She was a part of the deal when it came to dating you, but rather than be an inconvenience, she was the greatest addition which made dating you even sweeter. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” Amelia whispered across to Lewis. 

“I think so,” he smiled, looking back to you to check. “That means I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning, maybe we could eat breakfast together.” 

Her smile turned up as you nodded in agreement with Lewis. “Will you cook for us? You always cook us the best breakfast Lewis.” 

“I can do that,” he assured her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Although I can’t promise that my cooking will be as good as mummy’s dinner was that she made tonight.” 

You slowly stepped towards the bed, perching down on the end of it. “Lewis can only stay if you promise to get some sleep, we can’t have a tired girl at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.” 

Amelia nodded as she sat herself up and cuddled into Lewis’ side. His arm immediately moved around her frame, pressing several kisses against the top of her head. Your smile was wide as you watched the two of them, wondering once again how you ever got so lucky with the two of them. 

“Maybe soon we can live so that we don’t have to have sleepovers,” Lewis spoke, taking you by surprise. “I’ve got a couple weeks off soon, and I was wondering about asking you and mummy what you thought about maybe coming to live in my house instead.” 

“In your house?” Your daughter, grinned, spinning out of his hold so that she was face to face with Lewis. “Would we stay in your house forever?” She quizzed, bouncing up and down as Lewis’ head nodded, his eyes glancing across at the surprise in your expression. 

It was a conversation that you’d never really had, and never expected to have so soon either, but Lewis’ mind was made up and he knew exactly what he wanted. 

He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you, he hated the feeling of returning home to an empty house. The feeling didn’t compare to the feeling he got when he walked through your front door, immediately showered with love and greeted by his two favourite people, filled with excitement. 

“You’d be able to come up with lots of plans and make your room exactly how you want it.” 

“With a big bed?” She grinned, “and loads of teddies in the room too?” 

Lewis nodded, wanting to give Amelia anything she wanted and more. He spoilt her rotten, one of the perks of not being her parent, even if it did leave him in trouble with you time after time. 

“Are you excited about us coming to live with you Lewis?” She asked him. 

“More so than you could ever imagine,” he whispered, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand. “You two have changed my life, I love being around the two of you, annoying your mummy and tickling you until you’re begging me to stop, that’s my favourite thing to do in the world.” 

Both of you wore wide smiles as Lewis spoke openly, letting you know exactly how big of a role you both had in his life. The sentiment didn’t quite mean as much to Amelia as it did you, your heart was full as he spoke, whilst she still daydreamed about the new, amazing bedroom she’d been promised. 

“If we live together, would we be a proper family? Like mum, dad, and me?” 

Neither you or Lewis knew what to say, looking at each other. Your heart raced, terrified as Lewis stared blankly across at you, not quite believing what he had heard from her either. 

“You do everything that a dad does,” Amelia spoke up, feeling the need to explain herself a little more. “You take care of me, and mummy. You take me to school, help me fix my toys when they break, give me cuddles when I’m having a nightmare.” 

“That’s because I love you sweetheart,” Lewis smiled across at her. 

“I know,” she smiled, “do you think...maybe...will you be my dad?” 

You were nervous for a moment, but luckily the corners of Lewis’ mouth soon turned up. He squeezed Amelia even tighter, scooping her up and sitting her in his lap, scattering a trail of kisses from the top of her head, down and all over her face. 

“I would love to be your dad, if that’s what you want,” he whispered. 

Her head nodded, pressing her palms together. “You’re the best daddy in the world,” she told him, already full of confidence that no one could do a better job than Lewis. 

“Sorry,” you whispered across to Lewis as you met his eyes, Amelia cuddling closer into his chest, “I had no idea she was going to ask you that, I’m sorry if you feel a little put on the spot.” 

“It’s alright, in fact, it’s better than alright,” Lewis quickly assured you, “it would be the biggest honour of my life, it makes us more of a family, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded in agreement as Lewis laid Amelia back down in bed again. “Did you mean what you said about moving in? You really want us to live with you? It’s not something you can just change your mind about.” 

“I’ve never been more confident about anything,” Lewis smiled, “I don’t want to have to sit around and wait to see you guys anymore, I want to see you every day.” 

You stretched across and pressed a kiss against Lewis’ cheek, “thank you for completing our family, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

“You’re an amazing mum, with or without me,” Lewis smiled. 

“And you’re an amazing dad too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello!

I wanted to ask a question, if that's okay. So, I'm genderfluid afab and feel like a man sometimes (probably more often than I allow myself to realise). I don't have access to a Binder or anything of that sort (transphobic parents).

Is there any way for me to look/be more masculine? I'm a bit scared of goggling because I don't want to accidentally take advice from Tate people or the like.

(PS. I really like your Siegfried Farnon cosplay!)

Heya!

This is a tough one to answer. Because "masculine" means different things to different people. And "passing", as well.

Like. When I wear my fleece jacket and baseball cap, I'm deliberately passing as a certain type of man. But I felt more masculine the other day wearing an ascot.

So, I think we need to break down this question:

1) If you're looking to pass, there are going to be trans masc guides out there that will direct you to a very particular gender presentation. They tend to assume you are white and skinny. They present themselves as a list of Dos and Do-Nots, and at the end of the day, do more harm than good, imo. Because passing guides are almost always about hiding parts of yourself physically, often to the expense of hiding parts of your psyche.

Seek them out if you must, but when it comes to passing for safety, all I can suggest is ambiguous layers, a hat, keeping your head down and your mouth shut. The best way to pass is to not draw attention to yourself, alas.

2) If you're looking to dress more masculine to alleviate gender dysphoria, then you need to drill down to what makes you dysphoric and start there. My smaller feet is one area of contention for me, so I look for semi-dressy shoes that look long and elegant (like Taft boots). Since you can't get a binder, consider layers, if your chest bothers you.

3) If you're looking to dress more masculine to seek gender euphoria, then figure out your aesthetic masculine ideal. Make a pinboard of Looks you enjoy and see if there are trends. Some folks are drawn to athletic wear. Work wear. Perhaps a vintage aesthetic -- Rockabilly. 90s grunge. 1940s British country vet (meeeee, lol).

Ask yourself: What are the hallmarks of this style? Are there casual and formal versions? How does it change seasonally? How much of it is clothing and how much of it is the body (haircut, being muscular, etc)? And above all - what is this style trying to communicate to others?

Once done, see what sort of fashion tips are out there for your style. Who are the fashion experts and how much do you care about their advice? (Menswear guy has great tips about how a modern suit "should" fit, but a lot of his advice is also personal preference with a big dollop of classism.)

Pay close attention to how men wear their clothes -- where they sit on the body, how they style the outfit. Compare how a man is styled in your preferred look to how a woman is styled and see what that sparks in you. How much of it is the clothing or body? How much is posture? You might discern some visual shorthand you can harness to be read as more masculine. You might also come up with ways to have plausible deniability around your parents by being able to pivot a masculine look to be more feminine, when needed.

After all this research, get yourself to a thrift shop or other second hand option and start experimenting. Buying actual men's clothing is probably going to be your best bet, but depending on your Look Book, that may not always be the case.

No one can tell you how to feel more masculine -- that really needs to come from within. Once you figure that out, then it's a matter of reconciling your ideal look with the peculiarities of your body. (And all men have their own challenges wrt the fit of clothes.)

Afford yourself as much grace as possible when it comes to your body. And again, remember that feeling more masculine and passing more masculine may not always overlap and could even be at odds. And only you can determine if and when that is a problem.

[mlyscha]

↳ NO KISS, NO LIFE! ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. can your boyfriend resist your lips from getting kissed? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. fluff, trendy 𝔀arnings. curse words, not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 2k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: first time writing here! leave a comment about your thoughts! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) also, when i was writing riki's part broo it was awkward because i wanted so bad to explain how both of you were supposed to be cuddling but ended up like trash i am so sad rn

― 𝓱eeseung: you were the one who lost.

"babe," you walked up at him while he was chilling on the sofa, seeing the opportunity to sit on his lap and try this new couple trend. "yes, baby?" when he saw you getting this close to him, he immediately threw his phone to the side and placed his hands on your hips; looking at you with those big heart eyes. "can we try something?" you heard him hum, like he was pondering if he would agree with your propose ― he surely will. "sure." his nonchalant expression made you squint your eyes, like a challenge has begun: you had to annoy him at all cost.

you quickly began to approximate your face to his, making sure your lips were just a few inches away from getting kissed. then, you whispered against his lips: "who kisses first...? let's see." you let that mischievous grin spread across your lips as you moved your face away from his, sitting on his lap with a straight posture. meanwhile, heeseung were just observing you with a teasingly smirk. "are you planning to make a move to make me kiss you?" he shook his head, but that didn't change anything. "is that so?" he nodded his head this time, still holding that smirk you already wanted to kiss off of his lips. gently, heeseung moved his hands from you hip to caress your hair, watching how fast you melted under his touch.

vulnerability is not something you would like to show to your opponent, and heeseung knew that. with that, after a few seconds getting petted, you simply accepted his sweet action and laid on his chest while sitting on his lap ― like you would normally do. you were so comfortable like you were home, that you kind of forget what both of you were challenging each other about, making you, unconsciously, peck his lips; like muscle memory.

before you could even process your defeat, your stupid boyfriend were already smirking and giggling. "loser..." he whispers against your pouty lips, giving you a kiss of pity.

― 𝓳ongseong: loses just to make you happy.

okay, let me explain: he isn't really that type of partner who enjoys to be competitive against someone he loves, like you. i mean, he is competitive, usually against the members, but he knew that making you win this silly challenge would make you very proud of yourself, and later, jongseong would be okay with dealing with your teases.

jongseong was downstairs making himself something to eat in the middle of the night since he got hungry while cuddling you. feeling a sense of warmth loss, you went downstairs when subtle noises were heard in the kitchen. "what are you doing here?" jongseong felt your arms around his waist and heard your raspy voice after awoken from your sleep. "go back to sleep, sweetheart." he turned to give you a forehead kiss and took a minute to pull you onto his arms. "want me to put you back to bed? maybe give you some snuggles and kisses-" "i would like that." you interrupted him. "yeah? so my rameyeon can wait, right?" he felt your head nod, making him giggle a little. jongseong followed you upstairs back to your shared room, and you immediately got under the covers and he also followed your action.

when your boyfriend was just about to pull you closer to him to cuddle, you asked him if he would be down for a midnight challenge. "i don't think i'm in the mood for your games," you saw his beautiful smile under the moonlight, and just like an infectious plague, you smiled back to him. "i don't care," you turned your body to look at him. "the first one who kisses, loses." you squinted your eyes at him when you saw his amused smirk. "what's up with that smile?" "you are so silly, y'know that?" you scoffed, amused as well.

for a subtle long minutes both of you were just looking at each other, like a staring contest and like the no kiss challenge was forgotten. however, when you were just about to close your tired eyelids, you felt a peck strike you lips, and with the sudden feel your eyes went widen. "you lost?!" "i guess i did." and he would just shrug while watching your face lighten up and the corner of your lips go up. "couldn't resist me for a single second." your sarcastic ― slash, mockingly ― tone was heard. with that, he knew the next day would be a pain and his friends would be teasing him all week about his weakness; but he couldn't care less.

― 𝓳aeyun: the "screw this stupid challenge!" type.

jaeyun is probably the clingiest boys out of the seven others, and you wisely know about that. his clinginess is one of the main reasons for you to try this challenge ― which you wanted to try with your boyfriend right after coming across it on tiktok.

"babyyyy~" you called out for him and you heard him answering upstairs. "come down here!" this time steps were heard and a smirk unconsciously appeared across your lips. "what is it, baby?" he threw a towel he was using to dry his face after shaving on the sofa's armrest and laid beside you, placing a quick smack on your lips right after laying his eyes on you. "i have a challenge for you," yeah, a challenge for him. a question mark laid on his head, so you just chuckled and explained how the things would go. "no!" "yes!" "baby, nooo~, i don't want to stop kissing you..." he whined while snuggling his head against your neck. "baby, it'll be quick, i promise," and yeah, it'll be very quick.

what you thought could be quick, you weren't expecting it to be a speed run: right after setting a countdown and then whispering "go", you weren't prepared for being kissed after exactly six (6) seconds. "damn! wait at least a minute, boy!" you whined, mocking him. "okay, then wait, sit straight, you are too irresistible laying here with me, sweets." hearing his request, you sat straight on the sofa while staring deep into his eyes, and jaeyun's discreet grins were that hidden from being seen, which was cute and amusing.

"y/n, you said it'll be quick, what's taking so loooong...?"he started to whine after just a minute later. "i don't know, you tell me." "you're teasing me," "am i?" you heard your boyfriend sighing, like he was impatient. oh, oh... "i don't care if you actually are, i don't care!" he suddenly attacks your lips with a smooch and then it began to switch to a passionate kiss ― consider you are pinned down against the sofa. "i hate you," "no, you don't," "yeah, i don't."

― 𝓼unghoon: shy, shy, shy, no loser, just shyness.

sunghoon is very comfortable with you, however, this situation is kind of new for him. i mean, not challenges, but the purposes of this challenge you were asking him for both of you to try. it was simple and harmless: just try not to kiss each other, how sweet! but oh boy, this grown up man was feeling a mix of giddiness and coyness, which made you feel so lucky for having him.

sitting on your shared bed, you had just asked him to try this couple trend that has been viral on tiktok, and sunghoon could've said no, but he didn't; giving you a hesitant subtle nod, making you even chuckle a little. having the chance of watching sunghoon's coy smile was priceless, and just to make him more nervous, you couldn't help but tease him. remember when i said both of you were sitting on bed? you may have moved to sit beside him, and let me tell you, your boyfriend shuddered. "are you scared of me?" you pouted and your sweet voice hit his ears, making him turn his head to look at you ― which he kind of regrets doing so after seeing your big eyes just looking up at him, pleading for a big fat kiss. "no..." he would simply wave off your tease. "okay... are you scared of me trying to kiss you or something?" "no." he quickly answered, reassuring you that he couldn't be giving more fucks about you kissing him; either the other way around.

sunghoon's mind was a blur of thoughts which were surrounding the urge of kissing you. "i can see your little smile," you whispered, commenting while trying to hide that big grin threatening to spread across your lips. "you want me to kiss you, pretty boy?" and you saw that cute shy side eye he just gave you, like he was screaming "yes!!!!!!!"; still, you wanted words. "yes?" your flustered boyfriend slowly began to give in, nodding, ― that will do, you thought to yourself ― and consider his lips were cutely displayed in a thin line. but! the moment you cupped his cheeks, his lips were already facing you, desperate to meet yours. however, you amusingly and playfully pretended to be hesitant, teasing him and testing his limits. "you are not losing shit if you're about to kiss me, come here," and in the end he finally talked, shutting your mouth before you could even laugh at his confident sentence.

― 𝓼unoo: the giggly one.

even though sunoo is the sweetest and clingiest in the relationship, he told himself he couldn't lose, but agreeing that if you were getting pouty, a million kisses were being pressed against your lips ― all of that because he knew, deep inside, he wouldn't actually be able to resist you. "okay, let's start," you spoke up, laying beside him on bed. "wait, before we start, the loser is going to be punished or something?" he hesitantly asked, but you shook your head. "unless you want to..." you shrugged but sunoo immediately shook his head frenetically with a big grin, making you laugh.

"you know, the games has already started," "i know." "and you can kiss me whenever you want, you know..." you teased, watching him purse his lips while looking at yours, really trying to hold himself from kissing your whole entire face. you always knew your boyfriend were the cutest, the most beautiful and perfect man on this earth, and that triggered you the moment the game started. that was a weak movement, making you feel the urge to kiss him asap. watching him unconsciously pout as he got a few inches closer from your lips was really testing your patient issues ― no offense.

you could hear his discreet giggles, exposed by his cute grin. your heart was hurting and the urge to kiss him burning. you loved his giggles, his smile, his rosy cheeks, his plump hydrated lips, just everything was tempting! that was the moment you realised: you couldn't do this anymore. "ugh, i can't do this anymore!" sunoo felt his lips being smooched by yours, and he was feeling completed after two (2) long minutes. "that was supposed to be my line!" he whined after pushing away from the kiss. you chuckled at his whine, but couldn't get enough, shutting his mouth with a kiss again.

― 𝓳ungwon: teases you but ends up losing.

jungwon would be the type who thinks like: can we just finish this? i don't care, you're silly lol. with that, while he was helping you to get ready for a date night out with him, you decided to come up with this challenge for him; stating that if he loses the dress you wanted to wear was the chosen one ― since both of you were having different opinions on that.

"you should wear the purple one," you rolled your eyes at him, holding his shoulders as you tried to get him serious after you just talked about this challenge. "the challenge will be choosing the dress for today: the purple one or the red one." "okay," he grinned. "but i still think the purple one is prettier." shrugging, jungwon hugged your waist while trying to get you softer with him. "do you think i can win this?" "no." you replied, making him pout. in the start he was serious, not even flinching. your boyfriend was really looking deep in your eyes.

however, as the seconds passed by he began to grow impatient. he realised this no kiss contest wasn't a wise idea when the clock was tickling and the time passing by. growing even more impatient and trying to ease this weird brief moment of silence, he tried to make you lose by teasing you: simply moving his face closer, trying to hold his laugh as he got to watch your serious impatient face expression and some other details which screams JUNGWON!!!

suddenly your lips were kissed and jungwon's screams: "this was so hard! okay... red dress wins." "yes! you're weak, yang jungwon." you commented, teasing him. "i am not! i am a man who wants to make my beloved girlfriend happy and- and we're getting late uh- just wear your dress." and you could tell he was annoyed by your tease. "you're gonna look amazing wearing both of them anyway." and this is the time where you blush and he laughs at you ― like he was having his sweet revenge. "you're weak, y/n!" "shut up!"

― 𝓻iki: tricks you and then blames you.

woah, i might have made you scared when i described riki's part like he was going to trick you and then blame you for something he caused, but don't worry! here's the thing: riki would make you think that he didn't want to play your games and make you kiss him - with a certain consent. but then when you tell him he lost, he would start to deny, blaming you for being this pretty.

"when did you came up with this stupid idea of a challenge? you know you can't stay even a minute without kissing me." he would tease you while his brows went up and down. "you're an idiot," you rolled your eyes at him. good to mention is that both of you were cuddling on bed at riki's family house, and you were placed at his side while his right arm was placed around your shoulder, comfortably. "okay, sure, let's try this stupid challenge your goofy just came up with." he shrugged, letting go of you and sitting on bed with his legs crossed. "sit here and we can see you lose." your boyfriend gave the empty spot on the bed a nod, and you sat across him after a deep annoyed sigh. "you are preparing yourself too much, don't you think you're the one losing here?" "no," yes. "i am just making you feel more comfortable, because-" "blah blah blah, stop this yapping session, the game starts know." "how bossy of you, my lady." "shut the fuck up." "that's not nice, my lady." "oh my god, shut the fu-"

fifteen minutes. fifteen long minutes. riki wasn't giving up, even when you teased him a few times by brushing your lips against his cheek or giving him a eskimo kiss. "okay, hear me out, honey bun," he cleared his throat, sitting on bed with a straight posture this time. "can we kiss each other without having a loser? like, i kiss- i mean, we kiss, and then, um... we just return to the part where we were cuddling, yeah?" "are you getting impatient?" you teased him, squinting your eyes when you realised he was getting closer and cupping your cheeks. "no! i mean, yeah, no! i am not, i'm just- like, asking..." his pouty lips softened your heart a little. "okay... why though?" "just- yes or no?" "yes or no what?" "tsk, do you agree with us kissing and no loser then?" you thought for a second, humming right after. "okay, so, no losers yeah?" "mhm..." and then he immediately kisses you, without even hesitating.

after riki gave you a goooood and looooong kiss, he pulled away and he knew he was done when you gave him that mischievous grin, growing into a smirk. "wait, baby, no- we agreed with this-" "LOSER!" "ugh..."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[igbylicious]

whichever way [woosan x reader] epilogue

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: together you make a new start.

wc: 2.6k

ch. warnings: no explicit content but there is some conversation about sex, i teared up while writing this; does that count as a warning?

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: what a fucking time we live in. take good care ♡

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“I think these are the last ones,” Wooyoung says, patting the stack of boxes next to him. “Did we get everything from your side?”

“Yeah, we emptied that out yesterday,” you say. “This… this is it.”

San hums thoughtfully, putting an arm around each of you. “End of an era isn’t it?”

The three of you stand by the doorway to the living area, looking over an empty, forlorn apartment.

Depressingly bare walls, furniture replaced by nostalgia. It doesn’t even look like anyone ever stayed here at all. The only concrete proof of your life here is the kitchen cabinet’s crooked door, busted when San hit his head so hard you’d worried he fractured his skull.

Even now, face to face with the empty room, it feels surreal to leave it all behind. No more paper-thin walls, no clumsily bumping into each other in the cramped kitchenette, no more sneaking through the building’s hallway in the early mornings or late nights.

Suddenly every small inconvenience is filtered through the rose-coloured lens of sentimentality, like they’re something to be treasured. Maybe they are. The little imperfections that brought texture to the flavourful sweetness of everything good.

All three of you take a moment, keenly aware you’re saying goodbye to the space where you collided into them; collided, and then intertwined. There’s a lot here to be grateful for.

Wooyoung is the one to break the spell. He nods his head with a big sigh, like he's bracing himself. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, matching his sigh. “Just one more thing left to do here, right?”

San and Wooyoung divide the boxes between them; you are already holding a large flower bouquet. It’s time for your final goodbye in this building.

Together, you take the elevator down one floor, then walk over to the apartment placed directly underneath yours. You ring the doorbell, and it does not take long before Mrs Yoon opens the door.

“Oh? Oh! It’s you kids!” The crinkles in her face deepen into a wide smile, and she curiously eyes the boxes. “Today is the big day then, hm?”

San bows his head politely. “We’re officially moved out, yes,” he says, a tinge of red across his cheeks. “Um. Sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.”

“Nonsense,” she scolds. “No trouble at all, I’m sad to see you go. It’ll be so quiet around here without you!”

The redness on San’s face intensifies but Wooyoung just giggles, immune to Mrs Yoon’s light teasing. “Still, we didn’t want to go without getting you a little something,” Wooyoung says, “a thank you for putting up with us!”

“Ahh, Wooyoungie, you shouldn’t have!” Mrs Yoon coos adoringly over him like he’s her favourite grandson, lovingly pinching his cheeks. She lets out a small gasp of surprise when you hand the flowers over to her. “These are for me? Really?”

“Really,” you say. “It’s the least we could do!”

The bouquet looks comically huge in her tiny arms, almost drowning her in camellias and hydrangeas; but Mrs Yoon just beams with delight, taking a deep whiff of the sweet aromas. Even with the flowers, she still manages to reach for your cheek, patting it in gratitude.

“Wishing you and your friends all the best in your new home, sweetie,” she says warmly. “Feel free to drop by if you’re ever back in the neighbourhood.”

“We will, Mrs Yoon,” you promise, a pleasant glow in your chest at the word ‘friends’. “Thank you for looking out for us.”

The three of you part ways with Mrs Yoon, regretfully declining an invitation to come inside for a cup of tea. Your new home waits for you.

The new apartment is not too far from the old place, just a short ride away. Wooyoung is driving the car that Yunho was gracious enough to lend you, and you’re next to him in the front seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh. San is behind you, leaned forward with his chin on the backrest while he sweetly hums along to some romantic pop-song on the radio.

You bask in the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the window, smiling at San’s smooth voice while your hand rests on top of Wooyoung’s. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. Outside the car, your surroundings slowly grow less and less familiar, though you know that’ll come with time. You look forward to it.

Finally you reach the compex’s underground parking lot where Wooyoung neatly parks Yunho’s car. You unload the boxes, and find the elevators after a brief moment of disorientation.

You’re not on the top floor this time, but this building is taller so you’re still up higher than before. Finally you exit the elevator, and nostalgia is pushed back in favour of excitement as you walk over to your front door. One single door, for all three of you.

(Of course, you practically lived together already anyway, but it still feels different like this. More solid. Words and promises of long-term commitment transformed into tangible fact.)

You type in the freshly memorised code into the keypad, and the door opens.

The apartment is bigger and nicer than your old place; it’d be far too expensive for you alone, but that’s the practical benefit of splitting rent three ways. It’s still a mess, of course, unpacked boxes all over the place, but already you can see glimpses what it’s going to be, the home you’ll make out of this cluttered chaos.

Already there’s a small bustle of friends moving around the place, helping you to settle in. Even Hongjoong took time off, standing in the (significantly larger) kitchenette with a puzzled expression as he goes through one of the boxes.

You make a beeline towards him, and Hongjoong grins as you approach, making a show of groaning in annoyance when you lay a bear-hug on him.

“What kind of highbrow culinary types did you move in with? I don’t even know what half of these are,” he sighs, toying with a basic garlic press as he glances at the wide array of appliances strewn on the kitchen island. “Makes me feel like I’m not adulting right.”

“It’s alright, not all of us can be kitchen princesses. That’s Wooyoung’s purview,” you joke.

Hongjoong snorts. “Is that your way of saying you also don’t know what half of these are?”

“Pff, don’t lump me in with you. I know at least three quarters of them.”

“Wow, impressive! Let me know when you earn your first Michelin Star.”

He grins when you playfully elbow him in the side, and together you unpack the rest of the box, enjoying the bustle of activity around you.

A few people are walking back and forth, sorting out boxes and putting them in the right place. Seonghwa and Yeosang have taken up most of the floorspace to assemble a large bookcase, looking somewhat bamboozled by the instructions. San is setting out Byeol’s things already, even though she’ll stay at his sister’s as a guest until you’re all settled in.

He wrestles with putting her climbing tree back together when a sudden flash of light distracts him; Wooyoung has grabbed his camera. To do a little documenting of the event, he claims.

“Wooyoung-ssi,” Yeosang says pointedly, “aren’t you just avoiding having to do any real work?”

“Come on, it’s important to save some memories of today!” Wooyoung says enthusiastically, utterly undeterred by his oldest friend’s scepticism. Instead he snaps a quick shot of Yeosang instead, who instantly shields his face. This only escalates into Wooyoung trying to take a selfie with Yeosang, which escalates into him trying to land a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.

You watch their shenanigans with a wide, bright smile, and Hongjoong watches you with a thoughtful expression in turn.

“So…” he says in a slow drawl. “What was that you once told me? That you got nothing ‘involved’ going on with these guys?”

Heat flares up on your face. “Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed at the reminder of how deeply in denial you used to be. Let’s face it; San and Wooyoung had firmly pulled you into their orbit from the very start.

Hongjoong chuckles and pats your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you were right about the most important thing.”

You give him a confused look. “?”

His eyes soften, a crooked smile on his face. “That I didn’t have to worry about you.”

You swallow thickly, a sudden lump in your throat at his sincerity. “Yeah? Well don’t think that means you’re off the hook for our irregularly scheduled videocalls,” you joke awkwardly, prodding him in the side again. “It’s not like the guys replaced you or something. I still want my bestie too.”

“Good!” he chuckles. “Anyway, they couldn’t if they tried. I’m pretty irreplaceable.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh, whapping him on the shoulder.

You try to continue unpacking the kitchen supplies; but you soon get distracted when Yunho struggles to carry a gigantic potted plant, and you realise he’s about to set it down in the living area.

“Yunho wait, hang on! That goes outside!”

You abandon Hongjoong to guide Yunho out to the modestly sized balcony.

“Here, here,” you usher him to a corner, where the plant will provide some nice shade and privacy.

Yunho sighs in relief when he can set the heavy pot down, stretching his back with a low groan as he stands upright again. He looks around curiously, looking around the balcony. It’s not much, with just some old garden furniture that Wooyoung’s parents ‘donated’ to you, but the plant makes a good start to cosy it up properly.

“Huh. Hadn’t been out here yet,” he says, putting his hands on the metal railing to lean forward and take in the view. “It’s nice.”

Your eyes get momentarily distracted by how his long fingers curl around the handrail, but then you tear your gaze away and look out over the neighbourhood together. It’s mostly other apartment complexes, but there’s a big park with plenty of greenery and a pond nearby too, next to a busy kids’ playground.

“Yeah,” you agree with a wistful smile. “Really nice.”

You glance at Yunho again. All the initial awkwardness between you has faded by now; San, Wooyoung and him were eager to make up for lost time, so he’s been around quite a bit. You don’t mind. You like Yunho.

(Not just because he has distracting hands. He’s every bit as funny and dependable as your first impression led you to believe. It didn’t take long for you to grow just as fond of Yunho as the guys are.)

“And if you think about it, I got you to thank for it all!” you joke, grinning at Yunho. “Really, if you hadn’t played cupid, I wouldn’t have ended up here.”

Yunho blinks in confusion. “Cupid?”

“Yeah? You set San and Wooyoung up, right? San told me you played matchmaker.”

“……Huh. That is what San thinks I was doing?” He lets out an awkward, breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.

“You weren’t?” You frown at Yunho. “But you introduced them, right?”

“Y-Yeah, but— Never mind,” he says, his ears going red. “It’s not important.”

You give him a stubborn look. “Um. No. No, you can’t leave me hanging there. What’s not important?”

Yunho sees the look in your eyes, and after a long moment he gives a slow nod and straightens up. He glances at the open balcony door, but nobody inside is paying you any particular mind.

He leans forward, conspiratorially, dropping his voice low. The secrecy is causing your heart to bump faster in your chest; what the hell happened?

“Okay so, uh. No, I didn’t set them up,” Yunho says. “Sure, I’m really happy that it worked out so well for them, but… no, I just meant to test the waters for a bit, to see if things clicked between us, and then… I could see if they were interest in doing… other stuff together.”

“Stuff?” you ask — but the redness of Yunho’s ears deepens, and a lightbulb turns on in your head. “Wait,” you hiss, lowering your own voice as you lean even closer to him. “You introduced them to have a threesome? And they started dating instead??”

“Basically, yeah!” he chuckles awkwardly. “And really, it’s no big deal, I’m happy to see my friends happy. I saw the way they hit it off, figured I’d give them some space to figure things out. Thought I could always pitch the idea later — well, until Wooyoung told me San wanted to be monogamous.”

“Oh god,” you say, growing more and more aghast as your brain works overtime, linking up all the dots Yunho is throwing at you. “And then San asked you for advice about me.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit it — that one stung!” he laughs, about five percent pained. The last lingering hints of a grudge still holding on.

“I bet it did, fuck I’m so sorry—”

“Not your fault,” Yunho says, patting your shoulder with a reassuring smile.

You puff out a flustered burst of air, and shake off your embarrassment. Yeah, he’s right. This isn’t your fault. “…Is it weird that I’m kind of offended on your behalf?” you say with an awkward grin (god this is all so awkward). “Like, I know San and Wooyoung can be a bit oblivious, especially when they get stuck in each other’s little lovestruck tunnel vision, but seriously? They never realised??”

“Eh,” Yunho shrugs. “It’s on me too, I misjudged. Clearly shouldn’t have taken the subtle approach.”

You snort. “Okay yeah, maybe it’s a little on you too. The subtle approach? For those two?”

“Hey! Whatcha talking about?” San says out of nowhere, poking his head around the doorway like a devil who has belatedly realised someone spoke of him. “Thought I heard my name!”

You freeze instantly and fumble for an answer. “Uuhhhhhhh…”

Wooyoung’s head pokes out from behind San’s broad shoulders. “Hm? Are you guys gossiping about us?”

“Umm…………”

But Yunho just lets out a dry chuckle, unfazed by the interruption. “Yeah, actually,” he says with an easygoing smile. “I was just telling her that I never meant to play matchmaker for you two.”

“You weren’t?” San asks in surprise. “I thought…”

“I know,” Yunho interrupts him, not unkindly. “But no, I was trying to set us for a threesome.”

A deep, deep silence falls that strikes even Wooyoung.

He’s just staring at Yunho wide-eyed, the gears in his head ground to a complete halt. San has gone full crimson in the cheeks, putting Yunho’s faintly red ears to shame.

“What?” Yunho laughs when he sees your surprised face. “You said it yourself; no room for subtlety with these two. It was bound to come out sometime anyway. No time like the present.”

“You know what? Fair,” you say, relaxing back into a laugh of your own.

“W-wait, you what??” San finally stammers out.

Yunho casually leans his side against the balcony railing, shrugging at San. “Is it really that big a surprise, coming from me?”

Wooyoung’s shock has slowly morphed into a thoughtful expression as the gears in his head come back into motion. Keen interest shines in his eyes as he looks back-and-forth from San’s flustered blush to you and Yunho, grinning at each other.

“So uh,” Wooyoung says, mischief creeping into the curve of his crooked smile, “…is having sex together still on the table?”

final notes: yes, i am planning to do a one-shot sequel lol. you are getting that yunwoosan foursome smut scene <3 originally it was part of the epilogue, but i decided it works better as its own, separate thing

but this still is the end of the main series, the story of Woosan & reader coming together, and i am a big ball of emotion over it asdkjdsajk. thankyou for reading my fic, and for all the incredibly kind words i’ve received; this was a very special, personal project to me, and i hope it gave you some good times ♡

[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 3/5

For the next 3 weeks, it had become nearly impossible for Buck and Tommy to have much free time to see each other.

And see each other, in Buck’s mind, is having one on one time with Tommy, without Eddie. Sure “hanging out with the boys” was fun and all, but there was a lighter element in the air when Buck was alone with Tommy. He couldn’t quite describe it, but sometimes, he preferred it, craved it, even. He could be sitting right next to Tommy during a beer and movie night with Eddie and still feel so far away from him.

The most interesting surprise for Buck was Tommy texting him during one of their movie nights.

They shared a glance, smiling at one another.

That’s really weird. I can’t say that!

Buck tucked his lips in, trying to contain himself. Tommy was sitting close by and he didn’t want him to see a big, stupid smile on his face.

When he briefly glanced up at Tommy, he was already looking his way. Buck shot him a half-smirk and a nod, and Tommy nodded back.

His heart was racing again.

Tommy’s really cool.

The next day, Buck and Tommy met for dinner and beers. They joked, they laughed, they had a great time.

“How’ve you been doing? I know you told me plenty about how Gerrard’s been treating you. You okay?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be. I miss Bobby. The energy of the 118 is…different now. I just hate it. I love my job. But I-I hate this feeling.”

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.”

“Exactly. That’s all he’s been doing for weeks.”

Tommy looked at Buck with soft, sympathetic eyes. His gaze felt like a comforting hug, and Buck couldn’t look away. He couldn’t resist the urge to just fall in.

“Evan…I know it’s not easy.” Tommy smiled. “But you’re doing great. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Buck broke eye contact, sheepishly looking away. “I-I just feel a little defeated sometimes.”

“I’m sure Bobby will get his job back sooner or later. It’s just the natural order of things. The 118 belongs together, right?”

Buck nodded in agreement. “Right!”

“Ready to get outta here and head to the theater?”

“Uh—yeah. Let’s go.”

After seeing a double feature of two amazing films Buck had never even heard of, Tommy rode with him in an Uber back to his place and Buck offered him a cup of coffee.

“Hey, so, Wednesday, you’re coming with us for drinks, right?”

Tommy sadly sighed. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a date.”

“A-a date?” Buck forced a smile. Why did this bother him so much? “Who’s the lucky person?”

“Just…someone I met during my run.” Tommy answered dismissively. “But maybe we can do something next weekend?”

Buck nodded. “Y—ah—yeah—yeah. Next weekend sounds great.”

“Great!” Tommy looked down at his phone. “My Uber should be here in 5, I’m gonna head down. Text you when I get home.”

“Okay uh…see you later.”

Buck held his breath until the door shut behind Tommy and he let out an exasperated sigh, shoulders drooping with disappointment.

He wasn’t sure what was bothering him, until he remembered what Tommy said at dinner.

Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.

Not that whoever Tommy was dating would intend to make his life hell in some way, but just the thought of spending less time with Tommy made him feel a loneliness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Buck felt strangely about the way their conversation ended. He only had himself to blame for being so dismissive. He couldn’t fight the nagging thought that he had to fix it somehow.

Buck didn’t want the conversation to end. It was late, and surely they were both exhausted, but every second that passed, he felt like Tommy was slowly slipping away from him.

He hated this stupid thought. Tommy didn’t belong to him. Tommy was his friend. He was Eddie’s friend. He was everyone at the 118’s friend.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they shared a special friendship. One unlike the friendship he shared with everyone else. Buck was the only one Tommy wanted to take on weekly hiking trips. Buck was the one Tommy texted late at night to just talk and distract him from what stressed him out. In a way, Buck felt like Tommy was his.

And he was going to lose him.

[animasola86]

🦇 FANGS TO REMEMBER

m!vampires x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 3.6k

On your way back to the party, you come across a graveyard. Unbeknownst to you, you are trespassing onto someone's property, and they are not happy about it. Or are they?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Vampires! Noncon/dubcon! Threesome! Spitroasting! Biting! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 This is the continuation of OPTION 3/PART 4 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene:

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and after drinking a strange drink, you decide to get some fresh air, running into a werewolf who instantly decides to knot and breed you, and after that ordeal is done, you flee from him, and come across a graveyard...

ADDITIONAL WARNING: This one is very dark. It's more noncon than dubcon, so if you don't like the themes, you can skip it and wait for the last part (out on Nov 8th).

You look around, but there's only one way forward: through the graveyard. It's too dark to see anything else, no maze, no garden, no house, you can't even see the cabin anymore you just left. The night is eerily quiet, no critters, nothing. Even the wind seems to take a break for now.

Inhaling deeply, you hug your arms around your body and take a step through the large wrought-iron gates, looking left and right at the rows of crooked tomb stones. A strange mist wafts close to the ground, giving off an otherworldly glow. The moon is long gone it seems, the sky too cloudy to show any stars, but still you can see the various shapes around you.

You're not easily spooked, usually, but being alone in a cemetery at night makes your imagination run wild, wilder than it has been all evening. The slightest movement makes you flinch as you tread carefully along the path, goosebumps rippling over your exposed skin whenever something brushes against your bare legs. The shirt is soft and warm, but in the end not long enough after all, no matter how hard you tug at its hem.

A sudden shuffling sound makes your blood run cold and you freeze on the spot, your heart beating out of your chest, cold fear gripping your limbs. It came from behind one of the larger tomb stones, decorated with a small angel statue. You stare into the darkness, pressing your lips together to keep the noises from spilling past them. Probably just an animal. Your mind is surely playing tricks on you.

But when the same sound comes from right behind you, you whirl around with a shriek, stumbling back as you see a large black shadow blocking your view. You expect to fall onto your butt, but something keeps you from it, another shadow – and this one has hands. Hands that grip your arms, holding you tightly. Another scream rips from your throat as you thrash about, trying to get away, before another hand finds its way to your mouth, muffling all the noises you want to let out.

Your eyes are wide when the shadows around you form into the shapes of two big men, pale in the eerie light, tall and muscular, dressed surprisingly well for creatures that lurk in the dark.

“What do we have here?” the one with his hand on your mouth says, tilting his head, giving you a smile that makes his handsome face look almost diabolical. “A little rabbit? In our cemetery?”

“Did you get lost, little one?” the other man, the one behind you, whispers as he leans his head closer, rubbing his smooth cheek against yours. It's cold to the touch.

You stiffen, unable to do or say anything. Maybe you're still dreaming, or again. But the way these men grab you feels too real. They are strong. Intimidatingly so. You swallow hard, gasping when the one behind you gives you a deep sniff.

“Ugh, she reeks of dog,” he says with a drawl. “Had some fun with the beast, didn't you?”

Suddenly you feel a hand between your legs, a cold touch, coaxing a muffled yelp out of you as you feel probing fingers right against your warm crotch. “Huh, yeah, he got to her alright. Filled to the brim...” He pulls his fingers away and raises them to your face, and you can see the thick substance coating them. “Too bad, really, I was looking forward to ravaging that sweet cunt...”

You glare at him, both in shock and indignation. He pulls his hand from your mouth and shoves his soiled fingers between your lips. A muffled grunt of protest slips from your throat, but your attempts to get away are futile as the other man still holds your arms tightly. A bitter and slightly salty taste fills your mouth, but with how the man presses his digits onto your tongue you can't do anything but flick it around them, licking them clean.

“At least she seems quite obedient,” he muses with a menacing tone, watching you closely, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“We can still have some fun with her,” the man behind you says quietly, his nose nuzzling your neck. “He hasn't marked her yet. She's fair game.”

“Splendid,” the other replies with a laugh and pulls his fingers away with a wet popping sound. You quickly swallow the spit gathered on your tongue and lick your quivering lips. “So, little bunny, do you wanna try to run? I would die for a little hunt... if I wasn't already dead,” he adds with a reverberating laugh that makes you shiver deeply.

You just stare at him, your chest rising and falling faster. “I don't think she'll come far,” the man rubbing his hands over your arms retorts. “She seems weakened. The beast clearly got her good. Let's just enjoy her until her heart gives out, hm?”

You gasp at the implication, immediately silenced by a hand reaching out to grab your chin. “Fine. It is already enough to hear this beautiful beat,” the man in front of you whispers as he leans closer. “Are you scared, rabbit?”

Your eyes dart over his pale face, and when he bares his teeth and licks them slowly, you stare at his pointy canines. After having just met a real werewolf (or so you think, it's all so fuzzy in your head right now), you shouldn't be surprised to meet actual vampires, in a graveyard no less, pale and cold and strong, with sharp fangs and insatiable appetites, but your body still reacts as if you were indeed just a bunny cornered by two predators. A tiny whimper escapes your throat. “Please...”

“Hmm? Please what? Use your words, darling!” the man behind you snarls, rubbing his nose against your neck before you feel his lips on your pulse, nibbling teasingly.

“Please let me go...” you press out.

“Not going to happen, sweetheart,” he replies, his low voice muffled. “You came to us. Walked right onto our property. It's our right to do with you whatever we like...”

You squirm in his hold when he laps his tongue up your neck. The other man watches you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before he suddenly leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours. You gasp, staring at him. “You won't regret it, little one,” he breathes against you. His skin feels cold, but the close proximity makes your cheeks burn up badly. “We'll give you a good time, don't worry your pretty little head!”

And suddenly you are being lifted, nausea rolling over you as you find yourself somehow floating in the air. It's all a blur at this point. Footsteps crunch over gravel and dead leaves, thump against stone plates, old hinges screech as a door is being opened. The fresh air becomes stale and dusty, the light even darker. You move down a set of stairs, but you can't move, your head is swimming, your insides tensing up in a way that borders on painful. You can barely breathe, and you have no idea why.

Candle light flickers to life when the men take you through a large wooden door. Your eyes blink into focus slowly. You seem to be in some sort of mausoleum, old looking, corners full of cobwebs, aged statues lining the walls. In the middle of the round room, there are two stone coffins, both of them open, their heavy stone slabs pushed to the side. You swallow hard, trying to see this as a scene, a decorated room fit for an elaborate Halloween party.

But somehow you doubt this is part of it.

“Excuse the mess,” one of the men says as he walks to the coffins. “We didn't expect company tonight...”

He raises a hand – and as you're being set down on your feet again, you witness how the heavy slab moves seemingly on its own or by a strange unseen force, leaving you even more confused. Both coffins are closed now, and before you can question anything else, you are being draped over the short side of one of them, stomach pressed to the cold stone, arms and legs hanging off the edges. A groan escapes you.

“Let's clean her up first, I can't stand the stink of wolf,” one man says as he steps behind you, pushing your legs further apart. You feel a strange coldness rushing through your body, like water, but not really wet, a sensation that leaves you choking on your own spit. “There, better. Don't you feel better too, darling? No longer stuffed full of disgusting beast semen? Well, I don't want to kink shame or anything, maybe you are into being bred, but we do like our holes squeaky clean – for us to soil all over again.”

You squirm on the stone slab, your hands trying to find purchase on the smooth surface, your legs kicking helplessly, but before you can do anything, the other man steps in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. You find yourself face-to-face with his throbbing cock. They don't seem to waste any time, huh? He presses his thumb and finger into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You issue a groan of protest that is quickly muffled by his surprisingly warm member. You have no choice but to close your lips around it. (Even if you wanted to bite down on him, you couldn't, his hand is still holding your jaw open.)

“Good bunny, you know what to do, hm?” he tells you, slowly rolling his hips against you, his tip scraping along your gums, teasing at the back of your throat. Saliva pools on your tongue, and you feel the need to swallow it before it drips past your lips. When you do, he groans quietly. “Oh, yes, like that. Do that again.” Somehow his words seem to encourage you, and you swallow around him once more, straining your throat enough for tears to fill your eyes.

Behind you, you feel two cold hands rubbing up and down your thighs, gripping them, pulling them apart, before they slip up your rear and push the large shirt out of the way. “So I assume after your little werewolf ordeal, your poor little cunt is a little tired, wouldn't you agree?” he rasps teasingly. “Good thing you have another hole, huh, my sweet?”

You let out a series of muffled cries around the cock in your mouth when you feel probing fingers between your ass cheeks. “Mhmmnngh!” you croak out, thrashing on the stone slab, trying to get away. A sudden slap on your soft rear makes you howl, but ultimately stops your fidgeting. Your skin burns and throbs horribly. “Shh, relax, rabbit. You can take it. See?”

Before you can react, you feel a strange pressure against your sphincter, a teasing touch but unrelenting, and suddenly you have a finger in your ass. Your tight muscles clench around the thick digit, and you wriggle in your compromised position, almost gagging yourself on the dick between your lips when you push yourself against the man's groin and his cock deeper into your mouth. A jerk goes through your body, your hands fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything.

You don't feel in control of your limbs anymore, it's strange. You can feel everything, but you can't move, only rock back and forth on the coffin. The man behind you pushes his finger deeper, then pulls it out and replaces it with two. The stretch hurts, and you let out a muffled wail. Your noises seem to encourage him when he moves them in and out faster, deeper, a hard press against your protesting muscles.

Meanwhile the man holding your jaw increases the pace of his hips slamming against your face. His cock pushes deep, and you gag violently when he breaches your throat, your body convulsing, spit filling your mouth. He pulls back slightly, allows you to breathe and cough and swallow, but then repeats the motion, and you gag again, and the cycle continues. Your head is spinning by the fifth time he forced his length down your throat, and you feel too weak to protest anymore.

Not even when you notice that the man playing with your ass has added another finger and is plunging his hand hard against your rear, a dizzying rhythm, forceful, stretching you for whatever comes next. You can guess and it scares you. But there's nothing you can do as he suddenly pulls his fingers out with a wet pop and you feel his cockhead pressing against your slightly gaping hole. A deep grunt escapes him when he rocks his pelvis forward, sinking into your depths without mercy, carving his way through your impossible tightness.

Your muffled scream is overpowered by loud gurgling noises as the cock in your mouth pistons in and out fast, always pushing deep, bulging your neck, his crotch slapping into your face with each thrust. You are pushed and pulled, rocked back and forth, impaled front and back, cold hands holding your head up or digging into your hips as the two men use you for their pleasure, their grunts filling the space around you.

Despite their rough handling, you feel a strange heat growing inside you, and you realize that with every slam into your ass or snap into your throat, you are rubbed over the rough stone, and your clit quickly feels raw and swollen from the added stimulation. Moaning into the rapidly moving cock in your mouth, you focus on the good feelings, not the burning friction in your rear, not the rawness of your throat, the lack of air or the helplessness, just the bliss that tries to fight through the pain and discomfort.

But before you can even imagine any edge to fall over, they suddenly slow down, languid strokes that push deep until they stop altogether, one cock buried deep in your ass, the other pushed all the way down your throat as pubic hair tickles your nostrils. Your eyes roll back, your lungs burn, your body spasms fruitlessly. Groans echo in your ear.

“Let's turn her around,” one says.

“You wanna switch places too?” the other replies, almost a little breathlessly.

“Sure, I bet she doesn't mind a little ass to mouth action, huh, sugar?”

A loud slap against your bruised rear makes you gag violently, and as spit fills your mouth and tears stream down your face, you are being rotated on the cold stone slab, arms still hanging limply to the ground while your legs twitch as they're being pushed up and against your heaving chest, opening you up further. Cold air brushes over your exposed skin, and for a short moment they let go of you, cocks pull back, leaving trails of stickiness all over your face and crotch.

You are lightheaded, barely able to function, and that moment of reprieve is short-lived. You didn't even get the chance to swallow or breathe properly before a cock is being shoved back into your mouth. Hands curl around the back of your head, holding it up as the stiff and slimy length is pushed straight into your bruised throat. You can only croak out a muffled grunt before a heavy pair of balls slam against your nose.

“Tongue out,” the man above you orders, and you comply, hoping it'll be easier with your mouth wide open and your tongue extended to guide the throbbing cock in and out. “Good. Just like that. Look at that neck bulging. Ugh,” he continues, groaning as he rams deep into your throat and rests there, cutting off any air flow you may have had earlier. You squirm on the coffin, limbs twitching helplessly.

Before you drift off into unconsciousness, he pulls back and slaps your cheek. The pain drags you back immediately. “No fainting, rabbit, we need you awake for this.” You cough hoarsely, spit and precum flying through the air. You're too weak to open your eyes, and it doesn't matter anyway. His hand is on your neck now, squeezing slightly. “Ahh, yes, listen to that frantic heartbeat,” he rasps, slowly slipping his cock back between your lips. “Are you afraid to choke, hm? Or does that turn you on?”

You gag when he presses into your throat slowly, your whole body jerking against the man on the other side, who's holding your legs open and pressed to your chest. You are allowed to cough and swallow before it happens all over again, again and again, and while one man fucks your throat with reckless abandon, the other rubs his cold hand down your mound, teasing at your swollen clit, parting your puffy labia, but then he dips his finger into your ass, completely ignoring your hungrily clenching cunt.

There's no further preparation, and a moment later he shoves his cock into your tight hole, making you wail against the dick in your throat. He lets go of your legs, causing them to flop about wildly with each thrust as he starts pounding into you hard and fast, then you feel his long fingers on your burrowed shirt. You barely register how it's ripped open, but you do feel those cold palms pressing onto your soft mounds, pebbling your skin, your nipples hardening instantly. The touch is almost soothing among all the other things happening to you.

It's a whirlwind of sensations, the lack of air and strain to your throat and jaw on one side, the rough friction and burning heat and hard pummeling on the other. You are moved back and forth on the stone surface, a limp body to be used. You don't know how long this is going on, but these guys seem to have incredible stamina. They just won't stop.

Whenever you feel as if you're slipping into the welcoming darkness, you are slapped and brought back, your cheeks burning and throbbing, but it's only one of many aches by now. You can't decide which is worse, the suffocating stretch when a cock buries deep into your throat, or the rough pummeling of sore muscles when the other cock rams into your tight ass. It's all a blur in the end.

The men are groaning and grunting, snapping their hips against you, uncaring of your discomforts. They're chasing their own orgasms while you remain teetering far away from any sort of release. The room is filled with loud squelching noises, gurgles and slurps, slapping of skin against skin, a soundscape that seems to be your only form of stimulation. Not even the cold hands on your breasts push you further to the edge, they are just there, holding you, groping hard, anchoring you as you are pushed back and forth.

At least they have a rhythm now, in and out in an alternating way, almost like a seesaw, in goes the one in your throat, out moves the one in your ass, and then it's the other way around. And somehow you find comfort in it as you lie there, held in place, unable to move, your eyelids fluttering, tears and snot drying on your sweat-slick skin.

It's then that you feel cold fingers brushing down your quivering belly, down, down, until they rub against your clit, and you arch your back, inhale that cock in your throat, jerk your hips against the one pounding into your ass, and you come, clenching down hard, stiffening, eyes rolling back, bliss exploding through the veils of darkness.

You feel like floating, leaning into the wave of pleasure that washes over you as you let it all happen. And as you do, the men's motions grow jerkier, rougher, faster, and they come too, almost at the same time. Cum shoots down your throat, and you'd expect to feel the same sensation in your ass, but the man there pulls out and empties himself all over your mound and stomach, all the way to your neck. The pressure in your throat loosens then, and similar spurts of wet warmth hit your face.

Raspy breaths make it past your soiled, swollen lips as you lie there with your eyes closed. Strong hands move you until you're lying fully on your back, legs outstretched, arms put at the sides of your body, head supported by the hard stone slab beneath you. Cold fingers trail your skin.

“I wish we could keep her,” you hear a quiet voice that barely makes it past the cotton in your head.

“I'm not risking another war with those savages just because of one puny human...” says a different voice. “We'll find another one.”

“Let's feed and get her back onto the path.”

You blink your eyes open, noticing the two men, the two vampires, standing over you, staring down at you from both sides of the coffin. Their teeth are bared, fangs glistening in the swaying candle light, and before you can do anything, they lean down, one goes straight for your neck, his pointy canines sinking deeply into your skin, and you feel it, despite your fucked-out state, you feel the cold crashing through your veins.

The same sensation happens between your legs, on one of your inner thighs as the other bites down into your soft flesh. You whimper soundlessly, throat hoarse and sore, body too weak to move against the assault. They suck your blood noisily, like the thirsty monsters they are, and you just let it happen, again, what other choice do you have? Your head is spinning as you feel the cold spread through your trembling limbs.

And the world fades...

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6

End notes: If you're reading the Smut Series in succession, there will be one more final chapter after this, the aftermath/aftercare episode if you will. Stay tuned!

By the way, this is a nod towards my standalone Vampire oneshot Down the Rabbit Hole which also has dubcon elements and more than one vampire, but isn't as dark.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[lokideservesahug]

Undescribed Avoidance

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Jenson Button x reader, Mark Webber x reader (implied)

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Thank you so much for the support on this, I'm so glad you like it! Still not the big one but I think that'll come fairly soon... I really quite like the ending of this and please let me know what you think!

Summary: You just can't seem to get Mark's attention in the way you want... But poor Jenson is trying his hardest to just have a conversation with you.

Part 1

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

You're quite surprised with how different your rookie season is to your second season. Despite there still being low murmurs of doubt, you certainly proved to most that you are worthy of being here.

You walk into the paddock, head held high, ready for media day. You chose to coordinate your outfit with the car, half wanting to feel a connection to the team and half wanting to show everyone just how focused you are on the end goal this year; winning that world championship. Many would say that wearing white shoes and a white shirt is a recipe for disaster but you (and later the media agree with you) think that it not only creates a good tone for this year but also makes you look damn good.

You've ignored Jenson since the start of the season. Not deliberately per se but more so in an attempt to focus. You've fallen back into a routine not dissimilar to the one you had last year and Jenson wasn't in that routine last season, simple as. One person who was however was Mark. He was always there to congratulate you, looking out for you etc yet you cant help but notice that he seems a bit... distant? You shake your head. It's probably because of how busy the start of the season is. Ross manages his team very differently to how Frank did and goodness knows all eyes are on you. On all of you; Michael, Ross, the team and especially yourself. There have been a good number of articles stating how confident they are that you'll win the world championship this year... Not that you've looked (especially if your PR officer asks, she does not want you to read any articles about the team, something about being detrimental for your mental health or something like that...) You usualy space out during PR meetings so it should be no surprise that you don't remember every word said...

You break out from your thoughts as you hear a familiar laugh. Your head whips around and you see Mark stood outside of the red bull hospitality, talking to another red bull worker. You contemplate whether to approach him but all doubtful thoughts are pushed down as you approach him with a grin. "Hi Mark." He smiles back at you as your eyes meet and it feels as if you hadn't had any worries about growing distant. He appears to be the same old Mark that looked out for you at every turn last year. "Heya Y/L/N, how are you today?" You smile and continue to make small talk. And so what if you're a tiny bit late to hospitality, Mark is finally talking to you again so nothing else matters.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The first race comes and goes in a flash of champagne, confetti and celebrations that follows into the second race as well. And now, you've currently started a winning streak by winning at Australia for the second year in a row.

A slightly overeager fan even approached you when you were walking with Michael and said in an excited voice "Gosh if you win next year, we might have to call you the Queen of Australia." You all just laughed at the awful pun, both signed their cap and continued walking. Which brings you to now, and once again, you can't seem to find Mark.

You laugh at the thought. If you weren't weren't busy you'd almost thing he was avoiding you... Yet before you can continue that thought, a flash of motion catches your attention. You look to your right with an unimpressed grin. "What if I was cooking up some amazing strategy and you just distracted me?" Michael throws his head back in laughter and pats you on the back. "Good one. Ross said he wanted a team meeting in a few minutes." You roll your eyes and stand up, your knees cracking beneath you. "He always wants a meeting. You'd think it's the only reason he does this." Michael just tilts his head and you give him a funny look. "Well he hasn't changed much since his Ferrari days." You exhale slightly as the two of you continue to walk in step. "Gosh, you've been dealing with this for years?" The German just gives you a small nod and you grin at his misfortune.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Honestly, you blink for a moment and then suddenly Mark is racing away. It's the third race in the season and you can now confidently say, Mark Webber is in fact ignoring you. You place down the empty bottle down on the top step of the podium where you were standing moments ago and turn to race after a charging Mark. "Y/N?" You whip your head to meet Jenson's eyes as you finally reach the edge of the podium. "Sorry I've just got to chase something. Is it alright if I catch you later?" You leave Jenson no time to awnser as you're already walking off, desperate to find Mark, unknowingly also leaving a deflated looking Jenson behind you.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You fall back on the sofa with a groan. When Michael invited you to have dinner with his family, you assume that he expected to moan about your problems. Well regardless, you're doing it. Your teammate just chuckles and sits at the armchair as his children scatter through the door. You move your legs slightly and Gina sits at your side and Mick at his father's and your feat on a precariously placed cushion on the floor.

Gina holds out her hairbrush and bobble and you take it in a wordless gesture, the routine coming naturally to you at this point. You continue to talk to Michael as you begin to brush Gina's hair. "I just don't get what I've done wrong. I've been friendly, kept in touch over the break, all of the normal things until he still ignores me. I thought that he was better than being bitter over someone else winning." Michael laughs as you begin to separate Gina's hair into three sections. "It's not that." You look up at him, briefly pausing from plaiting his daughter's hair. You groan "I hate when you get all cryptic." Michael just grins as you feel Gina's head shake slightly in a giggle, clearly used to her father's antics. "You'll understand eventually." You tie the end of the plait as you roll your eyes and see Corrina enter the room in your peripherals. She places a tender hand on her husband's shoulder and gives you a knowing look, clearly agreeing with Michael.

Gosh, you wish you could be so in love and in sync with someone like they are, one day.

Gina mutters a small thanks and she leans her head on your shoulder. "Well don't get too comfy because otherwise dessert will get cold." At Corinna's words, Mick bolts up and starts running towards with a happy exclamation. You all breathe out laughs and follow after him, but at a much more sensible pace.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Silverstone. The heart of British Motorsport and one of the most iconic circuits in history. You take a deep breath, taking in the smells and sights of Thursday. A track untouched this weekend with a clear scent onto to be tarnished with burnt rubber and oil by the end of the weekend.

You meet the eyes of a young girl.

Her eyes dart around as if scared and you watch as the familiar back of Mark bends down to speak to her. You walk towards them to see if you can help the situation in any way (and you feel very thankful that you might finally be able to interact with Mark for the first time in what feels like forever). The girl backs up slightly but as you get closer, she looks up at you and meets your eyes. The girl looks to be about six and you wave at her now awestruck figure. Her mouth splits into a toothy grin and you slowly walk towards her. "Hi, I'm Y/N what's your name?" The girl giggles "I know you. I'm Charlotte." You give the small girl a smile. "That's a lovely name Charlotte. Is this your first time at Silverstone?" She nods her head and then furrows her brows as if suddenly coming to a realisation. "Yeah... my daddy wanted to take me." You smile at the girl. "Oh yeah. Is your daddy around here somewhere?" You lift your eyes and scan the surroundings. No sign of a spectator or even a frantic parent looking for a missing child.

Charlotte shakes her head and shrinks in on herself. You stand up and hold your hand out for the younger girl. "Well, shall we try and find him?" Charlotte just nods timidly and the two of you begin to look around for her father. "Can you tell me what your daddy looks like?"

You turn to Mark to ask of he'd seen the girl's father only for Charlotte to hide her face in your side and mutter something into your shirt. You gently lean away from the girl slightly and ask he to repeat myself. "My daddy said to not speak to strangers." She casts Mark a wary, almost scared look. You think for a moment and can't help but blurt out "But I'm a stranger?" Charlotte's eyes meet yours again and she shakes her head. "No you're not. You're Y/N from the racing at the weekend. I know you!" You give a soft smile at Charlotte, who is very quickly melting your heart. "Oh that's lovely. Charlotte but you can't always trust everyone you see even if they're on the telly." Charlotte pouts "But I want to be like you when I'm older. And my daddy has posters of you and that man in red in his office."

You're confused for a moment as to what she means by the 'man in red' until you draw the conclusion that she must be talking about Michael. So Charlotte's father must be a Mercedes fan then... At least that somewhat narrows it down you think?

You look around and hold your hand out again for Charlotte to take. "Well Miss Charlotte, what better way to find your father than give you a V.I.P tour of the paddock?" Charlotte's jaw drops in shock and you give a small nod to Mark who stands up and walks with the pair of you, keeping his distance to scan the surroundings for Charlotte's father. He just gives a small smile back and you feel your heart flutter at the small exchange. Charlotte clears her throat slightly and speaks in a quiet voice. "Who's that?" You tilt your head and point to Mark. "Who, him?" Charlotte nods and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the thought of the man. "That's Mark Webber, he drives for Red Bull."

Charlotte's lips form a tiny 'o' in realisation and she let's out a small exhale. She glances at Mark again and turns to you in a loud whisper (that probably seems quiet to a six year old). "Is he your boyfriend?" You feel your cheeks warm at the question and both you and Mark freeze for a moment. You refuse to meet his eyes and just the both of you splutter for a moment. You force out a small "No... no he's not." You try and shield your face from the red bull driver and you see Charlotte cast a wary glance at Mark again. She whispers to you again "My daddy said all Australians are upside down? Is he ok?" This time, Mark clearly overhears her and chuckles. You shake your head and when Charlotte catches sight of a food cart tucked to the side of the McLaren hospitality, she races towards it, pulling you along with her.

Mark trails behind and unbeknownst to you, stares at the two of you with a look of longing. A dream future suddenly flashing before his eyes, hitting him with yet another harsh realisation of his feelings. Mark continues to look ahead at the two of you. He can't help himself from grinning yet the domestic moment is quickly broken by a man's frantic shouts.

"Charlotte!" The younger girl, now with a muffin in hand turns and widens her eyes. "Daddy!" The man runs towards his daughter and scoops her up in a protective hug, hand resting on the back of your head. His eyes are shut in sheer happiness to have his daughter back and he finally meets your eyes. "Thank you so much..." He pauses, the weight of who exactly finally found his daughter finally sinking in. You just give him a smile. "Hey, no worries. It was a pleasure to have her." The man looks down at his daughter and grins. "I'm impressed by how quickly she found the two of you. I've heen looking all morning and haven't found a single driver." You chuckle at the man, understanding exactly how little most drivers want to stop and converse with fans so early in the morning.

"Well, Charlotte here was more than exemplar at seeking us out." You reach out and rub a hand over the top of her head, making her giggle. The interaction brings you such joy and as you come to the realisation that your little moment with her and Mark is coming to an end, an idea strikes you. "Hey, how would you like to come and sit in my garage for the weekend!" Charlotte's father's jaw just drops as the girl nods happily at you. "Please, please, please!" She tugs on her father's hand "Please daddy can we?" This clearly wakes the man from his shock and still speechless, he nods franticly and you. You laugh at the grown man, who is now reduced to simple cognitive behaviour and turn towards the Williams garage. You expect to see Mark at your side and at some point in the conversation you must have failed to see him leave as the Aussie is no longer at your side. You try and ignore the pang of emotion you feel as you begin to lead the father and daughter duo to the Williams hospitality.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Silverstone brings yet another win and a healthy few points to add to your championship lead. And yes Sebastian Vettel is going to be a pain in your ass but when is he not...

But now is nit the time.to worry about that as you sit alone in a pub. The team had insisted on coming out and at first you'd enjoyed the evening, celebrating, singing along to your favourite songs etc. But now, you're sat alone in the corner of a dark room all alone. Your mind briefly flashes to last year at the end of the season and you try and push away the memory. At least then you were on civil terms with Mark. Now it seems like he can barely look at you. A cough makes you look up and you meet the familiar eyes of Jenson Button.

"We need to stop meeting like this." You roll your eyes at the cliché. And tilt your head "Well maybe you need to stop following me then." And for once in your life, Jenson Button makes you laugh because his dumbfounded look deserves to be placed in a museum. He grins at your laugher and quickly recovers, holding out a hand. "Well, we can't have our winner sulking in a corner. You need to celebrate!" You roll your eyes and take Jenson's hand, shaking your head as you speak "Just to clarify, this is because I have nothing beeter to do not because I want to spend the evening with you." Jenson grins. "Sure love, keep telling yourself that." And as you let Jenson lead to to the dance floor, you try and distract yourself from Mark and his recent behaviour and instead focus on Jenson. Someone who has tried to put in effort to cheer you up and be friendly towards you.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You meet Jenson's lips in a sultry kiss. "Don't think this means anything Button." You pull aways lightly and are met with the sight of Jenson's signature grin. "Of course not love." You just shake your head and snake your arm around his shoulders. Jenson carries on kissing you as if it would win him the world championship a hundred times over. And depsite the fact that yourself a year ago would have a fit at the thought, you must admit. Jenson Button is a damn good kisser. The sound of a distant knock sounds and the two of you pull away, your lower lip dragging between Jenson's own as you distance your faces. "Who is it?"

A second passes until you hear the familiar sound of your teammate. "Just me, Hase. Is everything alright in there?" You hum in agreeance and push Jenson oit of sight from the door. You pull down the handle and stick the top half of your body out of the door and are careful to shield Jenson from sight. You give Michael a smile and he furrows his brows before giving you a grin back. "Ah." You tilt your head at his clear realisation. "What?" The German shakes his head and grins. "Nothing Hase, just glad to see that you're alright. Are you going to go to sleep soon then?" You nod your head. "Here abouts. The race was pretty tiring and you know and just want to be ready for all of the practise Ross will no doubt make us do." Michael laughs at your repsonse, clearly used to his Ross and his intensity. Jenson also snorts at your remark but fortunately enough, Michael must not hear him over his laugher. You walk the Brit slightly, makinghim quietly grunt at the impact. "Well keep youreslf rested. And see you tomorrow." You give the older man that has become not only your mentor, but near family a soft smile. "Night, Schumi and tell Corinna and the kids I said hi." Michael smiles and walks a few steps and then lingers. "Y/N?" "Yeah?" "Don't stay up too late hm?" You sharply inhale. "What do yo-" You cut yourself off ad you see Michael's knowing look. You go to string together a coherent thought to respond but he beats you to it. "I've been there once too. Just make sure you get some rest, it's the most important thing. The both of you." You feel your cheeks warm and you look down in embarrassment as the German bids you goodnight once more and finally leaves.

You step back and gently click the door closed. Suddenly, you feel warmth around your waist. Jenson enveloped you in his arms and you hum. "He's a perceptive one." You chuckle slightly and Jenson begins to leave open mouthed kisses on the expanse of your neck. "Yeah- well I suppose you don't get 7 world championships for nothing." Jenson pauses and meets your eyes with yet another grin. "Yeah, well I'd be well on my way if there wasn't such a gorgeous distraction on track." You roll your eyes but let yourself grin this time. "Don't be rude Jense, there are far nicer ways to talk about Fernando."

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIV

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

⚠Trigger warning: YET MORE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

14. a universal conduit

You’re not much for praying, but if ever God should be interested in you stupid little trials on Earth now seems like the time. As you tear through the streets of L.A. holding on for dear undeath on the back of Wick’s motorcycle, you send up a request to the big guy in the clouds:  

Please, don’t let us be too late. 

You just had to make a little stop at the Four Seasons to collect some blood from the Antichrist; a criminal defense lawyer named Kevin Lomax, unwittingly on retainer as don Juan’s little failsafe. 

Truth be told, you’d expected more of a fight from one of Satan’s offspring–but then he was the other Son of Satan, an earthbound half-breed who possibly didn’t even know who he truly was. 

More’s the better, and you keep the double Ziploc-bagged portion of his profane plasma in the inside pocket of your jacket, close to your heart. 

According to don Juan…it just might be the key to saving the world. 

He’d told you other things too. 

Such as, this ritual was to take place at the old mental hospital, where supposedly two ley lines meet and the veil is fortuitously thin for such things, forming a sort of gate where it’s easier for the constituents of Hell to pass through. 

��“What sort of ritual?” you’d demanded, wanting to know what you were walking into. 

Somehow, Juan managed to shrug with what remained of his trunk of a body. “Oh, the usual chanting and sacrifice I suppose. But that wasn’t my part of the deal.” 

“What was your part of the deal?” 

“Keeping Constantine out of it all. He was the only real threat left,” Juan grumbled, then glared at you. “You didn’t prove quite the distraction we’d hoped, you useless wench.” 

You realized that he didn’t mean kidnapping you tonight, but earlier, when your whole ordeal as a creature of the night began. He’d ordered for this to happen to you. He’d been watching you all along. The weight of this truth dawned on you, and it hurt. Jesus, how it hurt, but rather than cry about it you’d bared your fangs at him, picking up his sword from the ground. It was nearly as long as you are tall, and Juan’s eyes went wide. 

“What do you think you're doing with that?”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it, when you’re treated like your life is worth nothing?”

He bared his own fangs at you, jumping to the correct conclusion in the span of a second. 

“We had a deal!”

“You had a deal with him,” you’d said, nodding at Wick, who stood by with his arms crossed and a stony expression. “Not me.” 

“¡Espera! No, wait! You can’t–” 

You’re not exactly proud of how quick you were, to cut off his head–but in the heat of the moment, the bite of the blade through flesh and bone–God it felt good. 

Bloody, violated, but avenged, you stood over his decapitated corpse, shaking like a leaf but the sword still gripped hard in your hand. Lifeless eyes stared up at you, his mouth gaping as though he would still try to bargain with you from beyond the true grave. You thought of the way he touched you, the way he laughed at your pain–and you kicked his head as hard as you could like a soccer ball with a scream, bombing it into the dark depths of the cave. 

The ringing in your ears returned; Wick spoke gently to you again, taking the sword from your hand. You weren’t exactly numb, but the world seemed to have narrowed to a tunnel, where there was only you, and Wick, and his strong hands upon you leading you away. 

You never found Chas in the cave, and you hope he is with John, and not dead in an alley somewhere. You had to hand it to them, for baiting you just with a hat…but it seems safe to say the joke was on don Juan in the end. 

♰♰♰

“You can stay here,” says Wick as you pull up to the hospital, cupping your cheek in his hand. It seems eerily abandoned, for a medical facility, the windows all dark. “You have done enough, milaya. Let me finish this fight for you.” 

But you shake your head, unwilling to sit out from the fray. You can feel that John is in there, and he is afraid, although he is controlling it well enough to function. You sense the fighting hasn’t started quite yet. So brave, your demon hunter. He deserves better, than dying in this place a second time. 

“No. I’m going with you.” 

You like him even more, for not arguing with you. He simply nods, and he is ready to get down to business. “I hate demons,” he grumbles, rifling through his saddlebags for vials and a pair of brass cross-emblazoned knuckles. “They are too complicated.” 

“Are they really harder to kill than vampires?” you ask, watching him with a fascination you’re not sure is healthy. 

“Yes and no. Their powers…vary. You must be smart on your feet to find their weakness, before they kill you. It is impressive…your Constantine has lived so long.”

You are so surprised to hear him compliment John that he could have pushed you over with a feather. He looks up at you with a rueful smile you do not understand. “Let’s hope his luck holds, eh? Come on.” 

Armed to the teeth with Juan’s broadsword, knives, guns, holy water, and what you think may have been a grenade slipped into his pocket, you follow your dhampir beau into the dark maw of the place some people would swear is already Hell on Earth.

♰♰♰

The moment you set foot inside the hospital you sense the demonic presence, like a seething nest of poisonous snakes in the heart of the building. Wick feels it too, and you follow the winding hallways towards the therapeutic recreation area of the facility; ie, the pool. 

“Water is a vehicle; it lubricates the transition between worlds,” Wick explains hushedly, when you speculate as to why. 

You are scared, but you shove it down, and follow a step behind at Wick’s side. Worry for Constantine knots in your gut; maybe it’s stupid, but you just want to see him again. You don’t allow yourself to think one last time–even if in the very back of your brain, you feel the impending doom all too well. 

“...are all in violation of the balance,” you hear a familiar voice say, and your heart soars. “Leave now, or you will be deported.” 

You arrive in time to find John standing on a chair with a crowd of demons looking upon him curiously, that golden shotgun at his side. He should look ridiculous like that, but somehow, he is so tall and resolute that he cuts nothing less than a striking figure. 

“Go to Hell,” he tells the room, holding his lighter up to a sprinkler head–then he seems to sense you behind him–he whirls with terror in his eyes. “No!” he shouts desperately, throwing out his hand as though he could physically push you from across the room. 

Wick seems to understand something you do not, for just as the sprinkler heads begin to spew water he grabs you around the waist and runs for the hall. 

A few drops splash your hands and your face–and you scream. 

It feels like battery acid, something horribly caustic that could eat the flesh from your bones. The pain is excruciating, and you can hardly think as Wick bundles you along, not stopping until you find a dry place in the building, far away from the sprinklers. 

“What the fuck!” you hiss, looking at the sizzling droplets that landed on your hands. 

“Holy water,” Wick answers, licking your skin. 

Somehow, that works, and you sit back against the painted cinder block wall so hard your head cracks. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s diabolical.”

Wick pays you a commiserating half smile. “I fear you are the one who is diabolical, my love.” 

You realize a beat later he is playing word games with you, and you hiss. “What about John? There were fifty demons in that room!” 

Wick nods, and you cannot fathom how this man, who you’d witnessed literally tearing vampires apart with his bare hands, can give such effective puppy eyes. It’s really not fair. “Stay here, milaya.” 

You grip Wick’s hands in yours, knowing it contradicts everything this man wants in the world, but pleading with him anyway, “Please look after him?” 

With a growl the dhampir nods, electric blue flashing in his midnight dark irises. He makes to stand, but you aren’t done with him yet, pulling him back to you. You can tell he’s annoyed as he looks to you, and even with the looming doom and vestiges of the sting of holy water upon your skin, you can’t help but smile a little. “Promise you’ll come back to me?” 

Immediately he softens, pressing his mouth to yours in a hard kiss that curls your toes and claims your heart all over again. He pulls away while you are too starstruck to function, disentangling himself from your hands curled in his jacket. 

“Be seeing you, vampling. Ya obeshchayu.” You don’t know how you know that means, ‘I promise’.

And then he is gone, charging back down the hall towards the fray. You watch your warrior go with an ache in your chest; it moves you, just watching the way he moves with such deadly purpose. You find you are not half as worried about him, as you are Constantine. 

Feeling utterly useless, you pace in the hall, hating being left to wait while the–you have to admit it–two men you care about are battling the unclean horde. You know you cannot go near that holy sprinkler water, and you pause to study a map of the hospital on the wall. It is black and white and grainy, state of the art printing from 1968. But it looks like you can access the pool area from another corridor on the other side, and you wonder if that section of the hospital received the same blessed deluge. 

You know that John Wick asked you to stay put–for his sake, as much as yours. But the stakes are too high, and you just can’t stand by. It’s probably a bad idea, but you make your way down the hall. 

♰♰♰

As you burst through the pool room doors via the men’s locker rooms you hear the cacophony of the battle taking place in the other room. There is also something thrashing around in the pool, the water churning like a feeding frenzy of sharks. Juan had made it sound like the pool itself was the gate, and fear spikes through you from head to toe. 

Is it Him? 

A figure emerges for a mere second, gasping for breath–you realize it’s Angela struggling with something trying to drown her, and you jump in without another thought. The thing is strong, as strong as you, and you grapple with it under the water, trying to get its hands off the detective so she can have a chance to breathe. It’s impossible to get a foothold in the water against this thrashing thing. In a desperate ditch attempt to stop it, you grab its head and wrench as hard as you can, breaking its neck, twisting it around all the way backwards.

By some luck or finally some divine interference, it goes still. 

You waste no time in picking Angela up, hoisting her out of the pool. She is so tiny, for such a fierce thing. She’s gone still, and you plead or pray again through bloody tears, “Please don’t be dead.” 

Perhaps you are technically dead, but you still attempt to breathe life back into her, blowing air into her mouth and you thank all the deities when she violently coughs up water and gasps for breath, clutching your arms for dear life. You turn her onto her side and pat her back, trying to help her expel the water from her lungs. 

“Thank fuck,” you hiss under your breath, holding her. She looks up at you, her eyes widening when she sees your fangs and glowing orange eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you tell her, trying to make yourself look more human and failing spectacularly in the heightened stress of the moment. “I’m a friend of John’s.”

She relaxes back against the concrete, nodding, maybe needing to believe you. 

You laugh a little out of pure disbelief. There are still flashes of blue lightning and gunfire in the other room, Wick and Constantine working together. Who knew? But it sounds like the fight is winding down.  

Is this it? Did you do it? 

Is it going to be ok??

You are able to enjoy the lightness of this sliver of hope for a mere second, before suddenly you sense that you are not alone in the room. Something invisible picks you up roughly, and throws you back into the pool.

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

*full credit to @discoscoob for the idea to bring Kevin Lomax into this!! 😄 *a belated fyi, the reason I call Don John ---> don Juan is because "don" is a prefix and honorific signifying nobility, like Mr. or Sir, not actually part of his name. In Spanish, it's not capitalized. He's from Aragón, which is now a state but once was a kingdom unto itself in the Iberian peninsula, before Spain became, well...Spain as we know it, unified. Sort of.

[kaiser1ns]

love it when my fellow pals make deals with humankind. you are the cutest when it comes to temptations, saying how you won't give in but guess what ... you do give in and regret it later! well, i know dear ol' endo likes to make his deals not only to satisfy himself but also to help people like you see things from a different angle. i wish you the best of luck, my little puppet! oh, send him greetings from me when you see him, and now enjoy making deals with the devil.

𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻!𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮���𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

DEVIL ALWAYS TEMPTINGㄑword count :: 9669 ▿ does it matter that the boy you appeared with at the party to make your ex jealous, is actually a demon hungry for deals and human souls. that sounds fun, right?

CHOOSE ANOTHER DIMENSION IN WEIRDMAGEDDON

Friday nights were supposed to be fun and relaxing, you were supposed to be with your boyfriend sitting in front of a mirror, laughing and taking ridiculous pictures as you tried Halloween costumes together. He’d tease you about the silliest ideas you thought of like dressing up as peanut butter and jelly, or Sulley Sullivan and Mike Wazovski. You could still remember how his face lit up with that precious smile when he agreed to be a pirate and you as a siren. But tonight, you were the one drowning in tears of the deep ocean called love.

Instead of brightness and laughter, there was darkness and silence. The only light thing in your room came from the dim glow of your phone screen, showing how late it was, as you lay there on the soft mattress and now the weight of your thoughts pressed you down as hot tears escaped again. You wanted to stop crying, you were hurt and you couldn't open your eyes, you didn't even want to look at yourself knowing how miserable and pathetic you were right now.

Two weeks ago, Umemiya Hajime had ripped your heart from your body with a simple break-up and his reasoning was I’m sorry…I love you but I don’t feel the same anymore. It’s better to end this. We can always be friends, right? Be friends your ass, how can you still be something after everything that happened, after he broke up with you out of nowhere. The big party you'd been looking forward to was creeping up, and you had to show up … with a date. That was the worst part, you had to show up eventually if not with him at least with your friends. They were kind enough and tried to suggest people, but it felt forced and awkward. No one seemed to make a move on you, or they didn’t want to be your “pity date”.

And why would they? You were the one Hajime had dumped, the girl who wasn’t part of the perfect couple anymore. The butterflies were long gone and the pit in your stomach deepened every time you thought about that party, about him.

A big trash bag sat in the corner of your room, filled with reminders of the love that had once been around. Everything he had ever given you—every piece of clothing he bought because he thought you would look so cute, stuffed animals and merchandise, all inside ready to be thrown away. It hurt more than you wanted to admit. It meant so much to you, but you don’t need to keep memories from the past that will only add to this sorrow, and you knew better than to not dwell on the past for too long.

You could almost hear your friends’ voices amidst the chaos in your head telling you to get up, to find someone to go with. They said it was supposed to be fun, but fun was the last thing you wanted to experience as you had no date to go with. No one you knew wanted to go with you anymore because most of the boys you hung out with were Hajime’s friends. So what now? Would you go alone or just stay home? Finding some stranger to be your date seemed equally painful — pathetic even. You don’t know which is worse … going alone or pretending everything is okay. Sighing and letting the tears fall now, sinking deeper into the dark, suffocating from the emptiness as you closed your eyes, hoping that when you opened them, things would be different. But you knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m sick and tired of this.” but you couldn't just snap your fingers and be fine, it just had to happen, unfortunately in the most absurd way. "I hate men." Reaching for your phone you took it as the bright light immediately flashed before your eyes, and it took a few seconds to get used to it. What else could you do now besides watching videos on TikTok and Instagram? As quickly as you open the apps you immediately close them. What on earth is this algorithm showing you tarot readings, heartbroken quotes, and whatnot?

Ugh ... As if the universe wasn’t already cruel enough. You sat up, staring at the ceiling. If only there were a way to escape all of this sadness. Suddenly your phone buzzed because you forgot to turn it off, and a video popped up on the screen, grabbing your attention. It was some girl with bright eyes and a confident smile, talking about shifting and manifesting your desires. It sounded like another piece of nonsense you had seen a hundred times before, but something about the way she explained everything made you watch it till the end.

“But please be careful, okay guys?” she warned, her voice more serious, “If you see a tall black figure, it’s said to be the devil. He’ll want to make a deal with you. Do not look at him and run away. Trust no one.” She laughed softly at the end, maybe to make the viewers less scared by the information she just dropped. But you know what they say curiosity killed the cat. Shifting? Manifesting? A way to control your mind and your reality? You’d heard crazier things. Right now though, you were desperate and had nothing better to do. What else did you have to lose?

Wiping your face from the last tears, you took a deep breath and followed her instructions. Slowly, you calmed yourself, your breathing became even as you focused on the mental images she described. First came the colors—shimmering blue hues like the ocean, soft pink like the cherry blossom, and glowing golds. Then, shapes, doors, corridors, and rooms that were upside down twisted in the most impossibly and inexplicably ways. 

No, wait. You were dreaming. Your mind was creating all of this. It felt strangely lucid, as if you were half awake, half asleep in this vivid and colorful dream world. The corridors around you stretched out, leading to endless doors, each different from the last. But one door stood out from the rest. It was black, with tints of teal and all kinds of symbols drawn—triangles, stars, Roman numerals—it was like the graffiti that you see in town every day.

Without thinking, you walked towards it, your hand reaching before your mind could catch up. It’s just a dream, right? Nothing can hurt you here.

The door cracked open, revealing a large living room. The walls were adorned with paintings, most abstract as they gave more life to the black and white furniture. A massive couch sat in the center, inviting but oddly out of place. You stepped inside, scanning the room and on the nearby table, papers were scattered everywhere, filled with drawings. Picking one up, noticing how detailed it was. A wolf and a cannon and the word Frank stylized under it. Every line and stroke was done to its perfection, maybe the artist poured their soul into the work.

But just as you were about to check another one, something snatched the paper from your hand. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. A big mistake.

There it was. The black figure.

It loomed over you, tall and shadowy, no face or nothing. Its form is undefined and menacing. You couldn’t make out a face, the presence was enough to freeze you in place. Panic made its way through you and you bolted towards the door. Run. You have to run and get out of this place. Oh, no. The door is locked and it doesn’t want to open, no matter how hard you pull the handle. This is just your dream. You can change it. You can control it. 

Stopping dead in your tracks, closing your eyes. A big, fluffy cat, you thought. That’s what it should turn into. Something harmless. 

When you opened your eyes, the black figure hadn’t turned into a cat. Instead, standing where the shadow had been was a boy. He looked about your age, his skin covered in tattoos—the same symbols that are drawn on the door, now etched across his arms, neck, and even fingers. His black curly hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he wore a sleeveless black tank top, a checkered jacket thrown over his shoulder, and dark pants. He looked completely normal, and even reminded you of the famous singer you adored.

“It's rude to come uninvited, you know?” he didn’t even look at you as he organized the drawings, which you assume were his. “It’s even more rude to stare at someone. Cat got your tongue, doll? You don’t like it here?”

You swallowed hard when you heard his voice. It was calm but had that teasing tone, almost mocking you in some way but at the same time it was nice, it wasn’t impolite. You wondered what to say, how to answer this mysterious person, and all that came out was a weak whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to …”

He chuckled slightly, leaving the stacked papers on the table as he looked over at you and you closed your eyes. Do not look him in the eyes, do not open them at any cost. The black-haired male raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Don’t be shy now. I was thinking of making changes to this place anyway. Do you have suggestions?” His eyes were sharp, piercing through the haze of your dream but you stayed quiet, nails digging into the palms of your hands. “What a pretty and sweet thing. Come one, open your eyes. I don’t bite…” Your heart pounded in your chest when you felt fingers under your chin tilting your head up. “Unless you want me to.”

You realized that, somehow, this boy wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. He was and felt very much real. He turned your head slightly, you couldn't see him but you could feel his eyes on you, lingering, waiting. What’s happening? You wanted to look, you wanted to see him again. You wanted to ... Then why don't you do it? It's just a fantasy, a dream. There is no logical explanation for what we dream, it just happens. 

You were imagining all sorts of horrors the boy could unleash, but instead of something terrible, you were met with an unexpected warmth. Slowly, almost unwillingly, you peeked through your lashes. There he was. Not menacing or cruel, but sweet. Warm. His blueish-teal eyes were soft as they locked onto yours, the light in the room reflected in them. His features were sharp, but not harsh, with the kind of effortless charm, the perfect balance between beauty and mystery that made your heart about to burst out of your chest. Is this the man of my dreams? You weren’t sure, but the longer you stared, the more your world started to turn upside-down, the more you felt the dizziness.

“Hi,” he finally said, his warm smile morphing into a devilish grin, and your stomach dropped. “Took you long enough, angel. Making eye contact is important when you meet new people.” He tilted your chin up with his hand, making sure your gaze stayed on him before letting go, running his fingers through his tousled black hair as he casually walked to the couch.

He sat down with his legs straddled, sinking into the cushions like he owned the place, his confidence radiating. With a lazy wave of his hand, he motioned for you to come closer. But you stayed pressed against the door, unable to just go to him like you were the best of friends.

“Who are you?” you blurted out, voice shaky. Your back stayed glued to the door, not ready to take any steps forward just yet. “And why are you in my dream?”

For a moment, his expression shifted. It wasn’t a surprise, more like he was amused as if he expected you to ask this but still found it entertaining. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch.

“Who am I?” he echoed, tapping his chin like he was deep in thought. “Well, I’m a single lady waiting for someone to put a ring on my finger.” You blinked, staring at him in confusion. Was that supposed to be funny? He looked at you, expecting a reaction, but you just gave him a blank stare. 

“Not funny?” He tilted his head, his grin faltering. You shook your head, still baffled. The corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a laugh, and then he shrugged it off. With a snap of his fingers, the click echoing in the quiet room, you were no longer by the door. You were sitting right next to him. "I'm many things, I can't tell you exactly who I am." he wrapped his arm around you pulling you closer to him, and you felt the warmth of his body.

Every time you blinked different types of food and drinks appeared on the table in front of you. You were very confused and still had no answers to your questions. It's just a dream, you tried to convince yourself, but you couldn't concentrate with the stranger’s hand on your shoulder. "And can I know your name so that I can take your sou–” he paused before clearing his throat and giving you a slight squeeze. “I mean soup recipe! I have been dying to try new things, so hopefully you can help me out.”

You glanced at the table again, more confused than ever. Soup recipes? This is ridiculous. But… maybe ridiculous was exactly what you needed right now. Slowly, you began to relax, letting the strangeness of the situation wash over you. Nothing bad can happen. It’s just a dream.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, testing how it felt to reveal something so simple. “And… well, is that even the right thing to tell someone new?”

“Shoot,” he replied, not missing a thing as he casually got a piece of cake from one of the plates. He took a bite, chewed a little loud, then held the fork towards you, offering a taste. You hesitated but then leaned in, accepting the bite. The cake melted in your mouth, unexpectedly delicious. I will do it, I guess? It wasn’t that bad, free food and a hot stranger. It was nice indeed.

You swallowed, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out. “So… my boyfriend, well, now ex broke up with me. And I just feel so… ugh!” You groaned, waving your hands in frustration. “I’m sad and angry and… just everything. He lost feelings? Like, what does that even mean?!”

His eyes widened, and leaning in slightly. “No way!” he gasped, playing into your exasperation as he talked with a full mouth. “Is he for real?”

“Yes!” you blurted, grateful for his dramatic reactions. “For real! He said he lost feelings out of nowhere and just ended things. It’s like I don’t even know what I did wrong! How do you just lose feelings like that?”

He made a face, shaking his head. “Do you want him to lose his mouth so he can stop with the bullshit?” You blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion, though there was a part of you—maybe a very small, vengeful part that found the idea almost tempting. “No, I mean… is that even possible?” you asked, your curiosity rising despite yourself.

He grinned, leaning back into the couch now drinking from a cup that you were not sure if it was a real skull or not.  “Sweetheart, look around you. Everything is possible.”

You took a breath, looking around at the room that constantly shifted and changed with every blink of your eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Everything here feels possible. You shook your head lightly, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“So…” you began, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If everything’s possible, does that mean you can finally tell me who you are?” You leaned in, feeling more comfortable now. “It’s only fair, right? Sharing is caring.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flickering with that same mystery. “Fair enough.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you and suddenly the atmosphere changed, you could feel the tension. “But where’s the fun in giving away all my secrets so soon?” Glancing at you again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe you’ll figure it out. Or maybe…” He paused, his voice lowering into something more suggestive and dangerous, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready. Either way, angel, you’re in for a ride.”

Was this boy real? Or was he just another part of this wild, impossible dream?

But for now, you didn’t care. Something about him made you want to stay in this dream, even if just for a little longer. You trusted him, but at the same time, would you really trust someone who doesn't exist? They say that a person you don't know, but just passed by can appear in ъоур dreams. It must be that, but why was it all so ... real? His touches, the taste of food, reactions, and feelings. 

“You’re no fun,” you teased, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bite of the various cakes displayed on the table. But before you could take it, he laughed and it wasn’t a genuine and comforting, more like a mocking laugh. “We’ll see about that pretty soon,” he said, his grin widening. 

Suddenly, everything vanished. The food, the room, him…all of it blinked out of existence in an instant. You gasped, finding yourself surrounded by pitch-black darkness. There was nothing but silence, your own breath echoing in your ears. Where did he go? As you stood there, frozen in time and nothingness, trying to make sense of it all.

But then, just as quickly as the darkness came, you blinked and opened your eyes—this time, for real. Your room greeted you with its familiar shadows and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and shining upon the many posters of your favorite band on the walls. You were back in bed, breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. Sweat clung to your skin, your hands trembling slightly.

It was just a dream. Nothing more, you told yourself. You inhaled deeply, letting the cool air calm your nerves. It felt so real, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been, you wanted it to be. The nameless boy who gave you the attention and comfort you sought and longed for.

You shifted under the covers, pulling the fluffy blanket closer to your body, sinking into its warmth. The tension began to go away as you reassured yourself again. Just a dream. A strange one, but still… just a dream. Relaxing fully, you let your eyelids grow heavy, your mind slowly drifting off once more, feeling peaceful and safe in your own world.

What you didn’t know, however, was that you weren’t alone.

As you slipped into a deep slumber, a presence quietly joined you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close into a snug embrace. You felt the warmth against your back, but it was subtle, comforting enough that it blended into the haze of sleep. Fingers gently traced through your hair, playing with the strands, and a soft whisper tickled your ear.

“Good night, doll.” the familiar voice murmured, but you didn't hear or feel him because he was no longer a fragment of your imagination, but a real person...at least for what he would present himself to be.

And then you drifted off into the deepest, most relaxed sleep you’d had in weeks, unaware that the stranger from your dream had followed you into your reality.

The next morning, the first thing you felt was warmth—an unusual, comforting heat that made you snuggle deeper into your blankets. Your face nuzzled against something soft but firm, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around it, sighing contentedly. You had no intention of waking up. It’s Saturday, no need to rush.

"Good morning, sunshine." the voice was sweet and teasing, as you let out a sleepy groan, burying your face further into what you assumed was your favorite plushie. “Mmm, five more minutes…” you muttered, your voice muffled by the warmth. You squeezed tighter, expecting to feel the familiar softness of your stuffed animal. But instead, your fingers brushed against something warmer, something that wasn’t soft cotton or fabric—skin.

Your eyes shot open, heart pounding as you jolted upright, realizing that what you were holding wasn’t a plushie but a human body. You gasped, scrambling back and tumbling off your bed with a loud thud on the cold ground, trying to piece together what was happening.

A head poked out from the top of the bed, black curls and teal eyes sparkling with nothing but playfulness. It was him—the boy from your dream last night, the same one you were sure had only existed in your imagination. But now he was, in your bed, looking down at you with that familiar devilish grin.

“I thought I was supposed to fall for you,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “But apparently, the roles are reversed.” He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reactions and how he could smell the fear and panic. Your heart raced in your chest as you opened your mouth to scream, but before you could make a sound, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, your voice was gone, leaving you mute. You clutched your throat in horror, your mouth still wide open, but no sound came out. You tried again—nothing.

He leaned over the side of the bed, looking down at you with a smug expression. “Be quiet now, angel,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I don’t want you screaming…not yet.”

Your mind raced, thoughts going from point A to point Z. Who is he? How is he here? What is he? You crawled backward, pressing yourself against the wall, eyes wide with fear. He watched you, his head tilted slightly, clearly enjoying your reaction because to him this was just another game with humankind. He loved it when they showed fear, how afraid a person can become when they see him out of nowhere. It was priceless, the reactions and the emotions. You should see your face, he can’t stop staring at it.

"I know you have questions," he said casually, stretching his arms as if waking up from a peaceful nap. "But we'll get to that in a moment." He paused, looking around the room and how you decorated it, he will take some inspiration to his own if you don't mind. "First, let's make sure you didn’t hurt yourself with that fall, okay?"

With another snap of his fingers, you felt your body lighten. The fear that had gripped your chest was starting to leave, and though you still couldn’t speak, the panic was slowly being replaced by confusion—and maybe curiosity. You looked at him, trying to make sense of everything, but nothing added up.

"Better?" he asked, leaning back on his elbows, clearly far too comfortable in your bed. Managing to nod slightly, though your mind was still racing from the supposed dream to this pleasant morning surprise. Just what exactly was going on?

"Good. Now, let’s have a little chat, shall we?" he said, flashing you that grin again. You stood up and didn't sit on the bed next to him, but on the chair in front of your desk, pointing to your mouth, showing him that you really can't talk “Oh, yes. Sorry, doll.”

Watching him move around your room as if he belonged there. Every gesture, every glance he gave you made the air in the room feel heavier. His presence was suffocating, yet alluring in a way you couldn’t explain. He walked like he had always been there, but when he turned to look at you, it was as if he already knew what you were thinking—like he had known you for far longer than just this dream.

"So you want to make that jerk jealous, right?" he asked, his voice casual but sharp enough to pierce through your thoughts. You didn't answer right away, instead staring down at your hands as you played with your fingers.  “Eyes up here, darling,” he commanded, and despite not wanting to, your gaze lifted to meet his. It felt unnatural like some kind of spell was pulling you in, forcing you to obey. The moment your eyes locked with his, you felt that strange magnetic pull again, something dark yet engaging about him.

“I do… yes,” you finally answered, your voice quieter than you intended, because something was unsettling about how easily he was reading you, how he seemed to know your desires before you even thought about voicing them.

"And you want me to help you with that," he continued, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey, his smirk never faltering. "But, of course, you know that I’ll want something in return." His tone was teasing, yet you could sense the serious undertone that followed.  You stared at him, swallowing hard. “My soul right?” you asked, knowing full well who he was by now—though you were still processing the absurdity of it. Making a deal with the devil was a gamble and usually, the mortals always lose.

"Straight to the point. I like that. A bit impatient, but we’ll work on that." He chuckled, his fingers trailing over the objects in your room touching every piece of your life. His eyes flicked over to your wall, landing on a particular poster. It was of a musician you had a bit of an obsession with—tattoos, piercing on his eyebrow and mouth, the typical bad-boy image.

“The dude with the tattoo sleeve on the poster. You like him, huh?” he asked, turning his gaze back to you. Your face heated, embarrassment rushing over you. It was awkward enough to have a stranger in your room, but a boy commenting on your obsessions? That was a whole new level of awkwardness.

“Yeah, but what about it? You think you can pull off looking like him or something?” you fired back, your tone slightly defensive as you crossed your arms.

His grin grew wider, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Even better, sweets. Even better.” And with a snap of his fingers, you found yourself pressed against the wall, his body close, caging you in. Your heart raced as you stared up at him, your mind spinning at how effortlessly he had shifted reality.

“Let’s make a deal,” he whispered, his eyes flashing a deep, unnatural black, and for the first time, you noticed the small horns beginning to grow from his head. A black tail curled around your leg, sending a chill through your body. “I’ll be your boyfriend for the party, and you…” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. “You’ll pay me back when the time comes. Don’t worry about it.”

You were both stunned and terrified, his presence overwhelming as his words echoed in your mind. Was this even real? Could you trust him? The truth was, you knew the answer already. You couldn’t trust the devil. But the temptation was there, and it made you desperate to unfold it and take it.

“How can I trust you?” you whispered, your voice shaking. His head rested on your shoulder as he chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration making goosebumps appear as you tensed at his sudden physical affection.

“My little puppet… wait, that’s not my line,” he murmured, the grin evident in his tone as he lifted his head to meet your eyes again. “My sweet doll, I can do things you wouldn’t even dream of. With a snap of my fingers, I can teleport you to the future, change the present, twist the past. I can give you everything you want.” His words were hypnotic, each syllable wrapping around your thoughts, making you wonder—what if?

It was true, everything about him screamed power. And you knew you deserved better than what your ex had given you. But this? Making a deal with the devil himself?

"You know you deserve better than that scumbag," he said, his hand grazing your cheek. "So, my offer stands—I’ll be your date to the party, and when the time comes, you’ll pay me back. Simple as that." His eyes glowed as he leaned closer, the danger in his smile was more than just a warning.

You took a shaky breath, trying to think rationally, but it was hard with him so close, his offer so tempting. "You know about the party? How?"

"I told you, I know everything." He stepped back slightly, giving you room to breathe as a swirl of blue flames danced in his hand. His grin widened as if he could sense the battle raging inside you. He stretched out his hand, the flames flickering and welcoming you.

“Deal or not?” He needed to convince you because you were perfect and he loved when girls turned up to him for help, especially with their love lives. But the thing is you never searched for him, you just found him on accident and that to him was something new. This never happened before, he was always summoned but seeing how scared to how comfortable you could get with him in seconds ... He wanted to have you all for himself.

You stared at his hand, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. This was a perfect opportunity, but was it right? You wanted to show up with a date, and you did want to take revenge. But you have morals, at least you thought you did. If Umemiya can't love and satisfy you then another man will. And yet…what would the cost be?

But before you could stop yourself, your hand was in his, shaking it.

"Endo Yamato, pleased to date you," he said with a sly grin. The blue flames also engulfed your arm and you expected them to burn you, but they were surprisingly warm and didn't cause any pain. Looking around you saw most of the objects were in the air, you were also levitating until the flames disappeared and everything fell into place.

"Y/N is everything alright?" your mother's voice echoed as you heard the footsteps approaching. Still holding his hand and panicked because, in a few seconds, your mother would see you with a strange guy in your room. What would she think, finding you and him? Surely, she’d freak out. 

"I-I..." you looked at Endo expecting him to help you but he just grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos, making you sit back down on the bed as if nothing had happened. He, however, took a seat at your desk, turning on your computer and launching a random game as if he’d done this a thousand times before. It was disturbingly domestic like you were truly a couple who had just spent the night together again.

The door opened, and instead of the explosion of anger you expected, your mother greeted you with a warm smile. She walked in with a plate of cake. "Oh, Yamato! What a pleasant surprise, I didn’t know you were staying over." She didn’t even blink at his presence, as if he had always been a part of your life.

Your heart nearly stopped. How did she know him? You stared at her, mouth hanging open, while Endo merely smiled, leaning back in the chair with waving his hand, pausing the game he finished in milliseconds, and it took you a whole week to do it.

"Good morning, ma’am! Y/N told me you make the best cake. Figured I'd stay and have some," he said, and you could almost hear the teasing in his voice. Your mother chuckled, completely unfazed. "Well, I’ll get another plate for you then. I’ll be right back." She turned and left the room, leaving you in a dead silence.

The door clicked shut, and you quickly turned to him, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Endo didn’t look concerned. If anything, he looked pleased with himself. "Relax, sweetheart. I just adjusted things a little. In your parents’ minds, I’m your new boyfriend. They know me, they like me. I even got your mom to bake me a cake. Now that is what I call power." He winked, leaning forward in the chair.

"You… you messed with their minds?" you stammered, scared of how much he messed up with their minds and you hope he only did that and nothing else.

"Yeah.." He stretched his arms lazily getting up from the chair. "Now I exist to them. To everyone who matters, I’m your charming boyfriend, Yamato. And no one will think twice about us going out together or hanging around. I made myself part of your world."

You sat there, heart racing, trying to process it. It felt like you were in some type of movie, in Wonderland but after everything else—the dreams, the flames, the deal—it was hard to deny. He really was in your life now. And worse? He was making himself comfortable.

"So," he continued, his eyes sparkling with what you want to think of was the life he took from you, "how about we go shopping for those Halloween costumes? I want to make sure we’re the best-looking couple at this party."

You blinked, trying to shake off the lingering shock. “Costumes? Already?” He grinned, standing up from the desk. "Why not? You want to look perfect, right? And I’ll be the perfect date. Trust me." You hesitated, but part of you, maybe the reckless part, was curious. This strange, devilish boy had thrown your life into chaos, but he offered something hard to resist: a way to take control, to show up at the party with someone who’d make your ex regret everything.

"Fine," you muttered. "But, I need to get dressed first."

"Sure," he said, not moving. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and didn’t mind if you changed in front of him. But you did mind because you wanted your privacy, at least whatever you can call alone time now.

"Please get out!" you repeated, voice more forceful this time, pulling your shirt halfway up your stomach before realizing he wasn’t leaving. His gaze lingered, his lips curling into a smirk. He was like a snake, a beautiful but venomous snake ready to strike you down anytime. "Why? You’re my girlfriend now. You shouldn’t be shy around me," he teased, his eyes trailing down to where your skin was exposed. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, made your stomach flip.

You flushed, face hot with embarrassment and frustration. Grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket, you marched him toward the door. “Go eat some cake while I’m getting ready,” you muttered, pushing him out. Endo chuckled, hands raised in surrender. “Alright, alright. But don’t take too long, doll. We’ve got a date to plan.” He shot you a wink before disappearing down the hall.

You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. What have I gotten myself into? You couldn’t deny the thrill, but the danger was just as real. Endo Yamato wasn’t just some ordinary guy—he was trouble in every sense of the word. And now, he was your devilishly charming boyfriend.

Was this the biggest mistake of your life? Maybe. But there was no going back now. With one final look in the mirror, you shook off the nerves. If anyone could make Umemiya Hajime regret breaking up with you, it was Endo Yamato. And you will embrace your new life, whatever it offers you will take it. You just signed a deal with the devil, so take advantage of the luxury.

The mall was full of people as ever, the noise of chatter and music echoing in the background as you and Endo wandered through store after store. His hand was warm in yours, firm, yet oddly comforting despite the strangeness of everything that had happened. It had been his idea to treat you, to buy you something nice, and while the gesture was sweet, it left you feeling... a bit out of place.

You stood in front of a full-length mirror, dressed in a short white dress that hugged your figure in ways you weren’t used to. Your boyfriend stood behind you, watching with a satisfied smirk as you hesitated, his reflection staring back at you. He held a few more clothes in his arms, ready to spoil you with more options.

"You look so good," he said, his voice soft but confident. He reached out and held up the same dress in different colors. "There's also a pink and blue one. Which do you like more?" But instead of picking, you just stared at yourself, a sadness creeping over your features. You weren’t used to wearing things like this. It fits you perfectly, accentuating curves you usually hid beneath looser clothing. When you were with Umemiya, he never cared what you wore—he let you stay in your comfort zone, never pushing you to try anything new. Now, here you were, feeling exposed and unsure, your usual self-confidence slipping away.

Endo noticed immediately. He glanced at you in the mirror and saw the doubt on your face. His smile faded slightly, replaced with something more thoughtful, "What's wrong?" You hesitated, still looking at the reflection instead of him. “I’m just… not used to dressing like this,” you murmured, “What if people stare at me?”

Ah, so that was it. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip on the clothes tightened as he processed your words. He could tell you were beautiful, no matter what you wore, but he also understood. You were stuck in a box, never exploring past the boundaries you’d built around yourself. You deserved more than what you’d allowed yourself to have. He had something in mind for that. 

He turned to you, his expression more serious now. “I’ll be honest with you,” he began, stepping closer so you could still see his reflection standing tall behind you. “No one’s going to care. And if they do stare, let them. Who are they to you?”

His words hit hard. You looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror, and they were trying to convince you. "Nobody," you said softly, realizing that he was right. The people out there, the strangers, their opinions didn't matter. But still, that nagging self-doubt clung to you.

Endo’s gaze softened as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. “You can’t let yourself stay trapped in this comfort zone forever. If you do, you’ll keep missing out on new things, new sides of yourself you haven’t even discovered yet.” He was deadly serious now, his tone steady. “You’re beautiful no matter what. But you deserve to see how much more there is to you than what you’ve been hiding behind. So don’t let anyone, not even yourself, make you feel less.”

You sighed, your eyes flickering between him and the clothes he was holding. You knew he was right, but stepping out of that comfort zone was easier said than done. Still, something about his words made you feel… braver. You could take that step, even if it was small. Finally, you took the clothes from his hands.

“I won’t even try them,” you said, suddenly resolute. “I’ll just buy them.” Endo’s lips curled into a proud, satisfied smile as he watched you head back into the dressing room to change into your original outfit. When you emerged, his eyes lit up, and he couldn’t hold back a wide grin. "Now, that’s my girl."

You smirked back, feeling lighter than before. “You’re paying, though.” He laughed, seeing how he provoked you into doing something so simple. “Of course, doll. Anything for you.”

As you walked together to the cashier, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but feel like things were changing. Maybe Endo was right—maybe this was the start of something new, a side of yourself you hadn’t known before. Whether it was him or the situation, you weren't sure yet, but you knew that stepping out of your comfort zone felt a little less terrifying. Having the devil as your boyfriend was an experience of its own: both thrilling and exciting, and you couldn’t wait to see Umemiya’s reaction. 

After Endo paid, the two of you walked out of the store, your hands weighed down with at least three shopping bags filled with clothes that were far beyond your usual style. You felt strange and satisfied yet guilty at how much you bought. But somehow, that discomfort that had followed you earlier was fading. Maybe it was his influence or the fact that he had pushed you out of your little box, but the worry was no longer coming at you. 

The devil walked beside you, his hand still casually intertwined with yours, his other hand holding his bag from one of the stores where he insisted you pick out something cute because spoiling you was part of his fun. He is your boyfriend, it's his duty to make you feel good and enjoy yourself.

"We’ve got you new clothes," he said, glancing down at the bags swinging by your side. “Now, for the Halloween costumes... What do you want us to be?"

You hadn’t even thought about the party since all this craziness started. But Halloween was coming up in just two weeks, and you needed to decide. The two of you made your way to a nearby Halloween shop, the sound of spooky music and the bright displays pulling you inside. You wandered through the aisles, surrounded by racks of costumes and props…You were not using the costumes you bought with Umemiya, totally not. So it’s time to think of something new.

“Maybe something simple?” you suggested, looking through the shelves of cheap costume accessories. Your hand landed on an angel halo and some flimsy white wings. You held them up and smiled, “I could be an angel.”

Endo raised an eyebrow, “How fitting,” he said, voice laced with irony as he reached up to pat the small horns protruding from his head. “You know I don’t need a costume, right?” Somehow, you forgot what happened in the morning and how he turned into his true form with horns and a tail, wrapped around your leg. Good for him, because he can pretend they are real unless someone wants to try them on. Oh, well that’s a problem for the future.

“Right, you already come with the horns and tail. Guess we’re going as the classic angel and devil couple, then.” You tossed the wings and halo into your basket and turned to see him eyeing some fake devil horns hanging on a rack. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I think I’m good,” he said, pointing to where his horns were supposed to appear.  “I’ll just wear what I’ve got.” 

Once you had everything you needed, the two of you left the store, the cool evening breeze hitting your face as you walked out of the mall. It was such a good day today. Going towards the parking lot, Endo stopped for a second, turning toward you and before you could ask what he was up to, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flooded your face, your cheeks burning bright red. The butterflies you thought had long since died after Umemiya’s betrayal? They were very much alive now, fluttering like crazy in your stomach. 

He pulled back, his smirk widening as he took in your reaction. “You’re blushing,” he teased, eyes full of satisfaction. You couldn’t deny it, the heat in your face said it all. “I-I’m not!” you stammered, trying to play it cool, but the way your voice wavered gave you away completely. You know this boy for not even 24 hours and he is already making you feel like this. It’s the magic, most definitely you will blame it on his magic.

“Sure, angel,” he said with a chuckle, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both made your way back to the car. “But I think I’m starting to grow on you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, letting out a small sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of your life after all.

“Wait, hang on…” you asked removing your head from him as you looked at him, because why are you in a car, and not at the bus station? “We came with the bus, how do you suddenly have a car? And so much money?”

“Less questioning, more watching the pretty sunset.” his hand gently turned your face to the window to watch as the sky was tinted with pink and yellow hues, making you forget about everything as he stepped on the gas. Maybe deals with the devil don't sound so bad after all.

It was October 31st—Halloween night. Ever since Endo had stepped into your life, he had turned everything upside down. He wasn’t just the devil you made a deal with, he had become the best boyfriend you had ever had. He was doting, caring, and spoiling you beyond measurements. One night, while your parents were asleep, he teleported you away to Paris to have croissants under the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. Another time, you skipped school just to marvel at the Sistine Chapel together. Whatever you asked for, you’d get. But you were careful not to ask for much because the payment would escalate quickly.

The magic wasn’t just about the exotic trips. Endo made you feel more confident, you were finding yourself in ways you hadn't before, and he loved watching you fly with your new wings. He encouraged you to push boundaries, be bold, and stand up for yourself. It wasn’t just a Halloween costume you were slipping into tonight; it was a new version of yourself, and you could tell he was proud of that.

Tonight, though, he was being extra annoying, and was testing your patience. Standing behind you in the bathroom as you applied your makeup, his tail had found its way around your waist again, tugging you close as you tried to focus on getting ready.

“Yamato, I told you to stop wrapping your tail around me,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as you swiped the red lipstick across your lips, making a satisfying pop sound. Pulling away from the mirror, examining your reflection. The white dress, the halo perched above your head, the wings—it all screamed angel. But what kind of angel were you really? A fallen one perhaps.

He grinned, his sharp teeth peeking through as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t help it, angel. You’re stuck with me.” His voice was playful, reminding him how much he enjoyed teasing you. You rolled your eyes. “Remove it before I cut it off,” you warned, turning slightly to meet his gaze. His tail loosened immediately, slinking back, but his grin remained as wide as ever.

"What happened to ‘I love you’, ‘You are the best’, ‘Please, harder and fas–" You put a hand over his mouth and he pretended to be defeated, but there was pride in his eyes. He was happy to see how much you had changed over the past two weeks. The girl who once doubted herself had become confident and bold, and he loved every second of it. 

He watched as you adjusted the final touches of your outfit. “Look at you now," he said, his voice low and almost admiring. "Such a pretty and bossy woman. I love that new side of you.”

You slipped on your white heels, the final touch to your angelic costume. But as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but question. What was even angelic about you anymore? You had let him claim you in every possible way. Your body, your soul, everything was his, and you didn’t regret it as everything happened so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if he used his magic to make Halloween come faster.

Grabbing your phone, you prepared to upload another Instagram story with your devil darling. Ever since you posted him for the first time, everyone who had ignored or unfollowed you was suddenly watching your stories again. Funny how that worked. You smirked, knowing that tonight’s post would send them reeling and you will know the gossip because of your friends. They always tell you if someone is talking behind your back, someone like Hiragi insulting Endo, or Tsubaki being disappointed in you…and Umemiya saying he is fine but he isn’t fine.

“Showing me off again?” He asked, leaning back, watching you swipe through your phone. You nodded, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the mirror. “Of course. People love the drama between me and Umemiya.”

You were no longer the quiet, shy girl who stayed within the lines, living by the rules set by others. You had stepped out of the zone and were living in a big mansion, filled with adventure, luxury, and a man who encouraged you to rise higher instead of keeping you stuck in one place. The devil had taught you something valuable: first, to believe and love yourself, and second, to choose a man who would elevate you, not hold you back.

“Ready for tonight?” he smiled, his horns gleaming in the bathroom light, perfectly matching your halo. “I’ve never been more ready. Let’s show them what a real angel and devil look like.”

Match made in Heaven—is what he enjoyed telling everyone and only the two of you knew the meaning. One thing was clear: You were in love with the devil, and he didn't just want your soul for the deal—he wanted everything from you. Endo Yamato wanted you. Make sure to repay him fully because the devil is always tempting, and he hates to wait too long.

It was like time had stopped, and you couldn’t help but glance at him, hoping he hadn’t done anything that involved magic for this dramatic entrance. Everyone turned their heads to watch as you walked through the crowd with Endo. But his smirk told you he hadn’t done any tricks, much surprising to you—tonight you were simply the topic of discussion.

His arm tightened around your waist, and the big room was filled with whispers and glances, and it made you uncomfortable at some point and he sensed this, leaning down playfully whispering in your ear. “Just ignore them, angel. We're just giving them a free show~”

Well, if it wasn’t your best friend the fate itself when you found yourself face-to-face with none other than your…ex. He was accompanied by Hiragi and Tsubaki, the two friends you’d once spent so much time with. Umemiya looked at you and you could see the surprise, confusion, and maybe even regret in his eyes. He managed a weak smile, but couldn’t take his eyes off Endo, who only gave him that signature devilish smirk.

“Hi,Ume!" you greeted cheerfully, waving to Hiragi and Tsubaki, trying to make this less awkward and with how Umemiya barely reacted, still, clearly caught off guard by the presence of your devilishly attractive date. “Hi,” he muttered, eyes lingering to Endo.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group until Umemiya finally cleared his throat, "Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked as you glanced at your boyfriend, and he just shrugged, releasing his hold on you, as if he knew that whatever conversation you had with Umemiya, it wouldn’t change a thing. “Go ahead,” he said, giving you an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, you followed Umemiya to a quieter corner of the room, away from prying eyes but close enough that you could still feel Endo's gaze, watchful and reassuring, grounding you in your decision to move forward.

"So what do you want to talk about?" you asked wanting to just have fun without thinking so much about past relationships. Umemiya'a was a wonderful boyfriend, but Endo was out of this world. 

“So...uh,” Umemiya began, keeping his eyes on yours trying to search for an answer, trying to search for the real you. “You really...you’re really with him?” 

“Yes, I am,” you replied, keeping that calm and confident tone, because you needed to assure him that everything was fine, even without him. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Umemiya’s jaw clenched, and he looked away as if trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Look, I know things got...weird between us. I never thought you’d—” He hesitated, eyes flicking back to Endo, who was currently chatting with some other partygoers, yet somehow still looked every bit as menacing. “I mean, him, really?” 

“Yes, him. If you are going to judge me, just let's drop this conversation and have fun?” you said, getting a little annoyed but you understood his concerns. However, he is an ex for a reason. “He treats me well, listens to me, and I’ve been happier. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Umemiya frowned, he was frustrated “I didn’t think you’d… move on so fast.” He looked at a loss for words, struggling with the effects of his own choices. You took a deep breath, finally feeling closure start to settle over you. Whatever you’d once wanted from him—an apology, an explanation—no longer mattered. You’d moved on. “Look, I hope you will have fun despite everything. Past is past, forgive and forget, right?” you said, ending the conversation with that same smile you gave to him when he was feeling down.

As you turned to walk back to Endo, you felt at peace. Your past with Umemiya was just that—your past. Rejoining him by the drinks, he looked down at you, so curious. "You came back very quickly. How did it go?" he asked handing you a drink which you drank immediately. He knew how it went, what the conversation was, after all, he is the Devil... he has eyes and ears for all evil. "Nothing much. He's just sad, I guess. But I don't care." He just nodded and looked at you with that look, as if you were something so sweet and lovely, like a dessert ready to be savored. He was sure to savor every last bit of you when the time came for you to repay him.

"Yamato, are you listening?" waving your hand in front of his face you slightly worried for him. "Yeah, yeah. You wanted to fix your make-up?" He chuckled, leaning down closer to you. Smiling, you took his hand, guiding him through the crowd toward the restroom. As you walked, people parted to make way, their eyes on the angel and the devil, perfectly matched.

By "fixing your makeup” you hadn’t meant making out, but Endo had other plans. His lips met yours as he leaned in, pressing you gently against the wall. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away. His hands found your waist, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, and your mind went blank as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving traces of his dark lipstick on your skin. You weren't the only couple being all over each other, so who cares what you do?

When you finally caught your breath, you opened your eyes, only to see his smirk—sly and devilish as he pulled away, leaving you flustered and breathless. "Why did you stop?" You didn’t immediately realize why he’d pulled back until you followed his gaze. Standing a few feet away, looking as if he had seen a ghost, was Umemiya. Endo’s teal eyes were exactly like his flames, burning and full of what one could say is lust and joy, as he caught your ex’s gaze and, finally showed his real black eyes and sharp fangs.

It was Halloween, after all. Strange things are bound to happen, and if anyone asked, it was just an impressive costume trick, okay?

Endo’s hand found its way back to your face, and he kissed you once more, gentler this time but no less possessive. "Just relax and give your soul to me," he whispered against your lips, the words a promise that felt as luring as his embrace. "Give me everything so I can give you so much more."

You closed your eyes again, the feeling of being in his arms somehow made all your doubts, insecurities, and the heartache you’d carried from your past with Umemiya fade away. For the first time, you felt completely, unapologetically loved.

When you finally pulled away, the Devil watched you catch your breath, your heart racing as he could feel how you were wanting and begging for more. "Come on, angel," he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek with a grin. "This party is boring. Let me show you how demons like to have fun." Tonight, you were in his world, where the rules didn’t matter, much more than any exes of yours.

Tonight he will show you how much fun is to make tempting deals with the Devil, so enjoy yourself to the last bite of the apple—temptation is the key to your soul.

WEIRDMAGEDDON VICTIMS :: @maruflix @exkiusme @17020 @stunies @y2kuromi @seneon @littleplantfreak @meidiary @heartkaji @nyxypoo @ryescapades

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[rafestify]

hi! would you be able to do a oneshot with Drew and soccerplayer!reader? He’s there to support her during a big rival game and she ends up getting a red card because she starts a fight on the field. When they get back home she starts breaking down about all the pressure with the team and how she feels insecure in their relationship because fans are split on their opinion of her and some of them have been saying that they don’t make any sense together. Can you make it really angsty with comfort at the end!

Also feel free to tweak any parts of the plot I know I made it really specific lol

Red Card — Rafe Cameron

Summary : SoccerPlayer!Reader gets a red card during her big match and she breaks down at home because of it

Rafe Cameron x SoccerPlayer!Reader

Warnings : none just language and english is not my first language so bare w it

A/N : i changed it to rafe instead, i hope u like it anon!💕

the stadium roared to life, the cheers and chants blending into a powerful wave of sound that filled the air. i could feel the pulse of excitement vibrating through me as i stepped onto the field, knowing this was the moment i’d been preparing for. every hour of practice, every sacrifice, had led me here. out of the corner of my eye, i spotted rafe in the front row, his unwavering gaze fixed on me. he’d turned down an important meeting with ward just to be here, refusing to miss what he knew was my biggest game yet. this wasn’t just a match, it was everything i’d worked for, and having rafe there made it all the more meaningful.

i took one last glance over at rafe before the referee raised his whistle, signaling that everything was about to begin. rafe was leaning forward, his eyes locked onto me with a look of pride and encouragement that steadied me, even in this high-stakes moment. the crowd’s cheers blurred into the background as i focused on him, feeling a sense of reassurance just from his presence. he gave me a small nod, as if to remind me of everything we’d worked toward, and in that instant, i knew i was ready. the referee lifted the whistle to his lips, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

as the sharp blast of the whistle pierced through the air, a rush of adrenaline surged through me. i sprinted forward, the sound of my cleats striking the grass becoming a rhythmic beat in my ears. my teammates were already moving into position, their energy contagious as we pushed into the fray of the game.

the ball glided toward me, and instinct kicked in. i maneuvered around an opponent, feeling the cool breeze on my skin and the weight of the moment lifting my spirits. each dribble was a testament to the countless hours of practice, each step fueled by rafe’s unwavering belief in me.

the crowd erupted as i neared the goal, the intensity escalating with each heartbeat. i could see the goalie shifting, anticipation written across his face. time seemed to stretch, allowing me to recall the drills, the strategies, and the encouragement rafe had whispered in my ear during our late-night practice sessions.

i faked left, then shifted right, creating a gap. in one fluid motion, i struck the ball with everything i had. it soared through the air, a perfect arc toward the corner of the net. the world narrowed down to that singular moment, the ball and the goal merging into one.

a collective gasp filled the stadium, followed by a deafening roar as the ball hit the back of the net. i felt the rush of victory wash over me, and as i turned to celebrate, my eyes immediately found rafe in the crowd. his face lit up, a smile breaking through the sea of cheering fans. my teammates rushed toward me, lifting me into the air as i basked in the joy of the moment. but amid the celebration, all i could think about was how i would never have made it this far without rafe’s support.

the game continued, the intensity palpable as we approached halftime. i was determined to add another goal to our lead, pushing myself to the limit with each stride. the rhythm of the match seemed to flow through me, but as i made a daring run toward the opponent’s goal, disaster struck.

an opposing player lunged at me, her tackle brutal and unexpected. i felt the sharp impact as i hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs. in that moment, a flash of anger ignited within me. i could hear the jeers of the crowd as the referee blew his whistle, and my frustration bubbled over. i scrambled to my feet, confronting the player who had taken me down, my words heated and my fists clenched.

before i knew it, the referee was standing between us, his expression stern. i felt my heart race as he pulled out the red card, making my stomach sink. the disbelief hit me like a freight train, i had let my emotions get the best of me.

my teammates called out in protest, but there was no changing the referee’s mind. i walked off the field, my head held high despite the disappointment welling inside. as i took my seat on the sidelines, i could feel rafe’s eyes on me. i saw the mix of disappointment and understanding in his expression.

the ride back home was filled with silence, the weight of the day’s events settled heavily on my shoulders. the red card loomed over me like a dark cloud, a constant reminder of my moment of weakness. i dropped my bag by the door and trudged to the living room, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort.

as i flopped onto the couch, my mind replayed the scene over and over, the tackle, the anger, the card. i knew i had let my emotions take control, but i was still frustrated with myself for losing my cool. i buried my head in my hands, feeling utterly devastated. the weight of the day pressed down on me like a heavy fog, and i couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment. rafe settled beside me, his presence a steadying force in the turmoil. he rubbed my back soothingly, his touch warm and comforting. “you alright?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle and filled with concern.

i shook my head, the gesture barely lifting my eyes from the safety of my palms. “no,” i murmured, my voice muffled. “i feel so fucking stupid.”

rafe shifted closer, the warmth of his body radiating against mine. “baby, you're not stupid,” he reassured me, his fingers continuing their soft movements across my back. “you were upset, and that's completely normal.”

his kindness wrapped around me like a warm blanket, but the frustration still lingered in my chest. “i feel like i let everyone down, especially you,” i admitted, lifting my head slightly to meet his gaze.

rafe frowned, his gaze penetrating as he searched my eyes. “you didn’t let me down,” he said firmly, his voice imbued with an earnestness that cut through the fog of my despair.

his words hung in the air like a lifeline, stirring a flicker of hope deep within me. despite the weight of disappointment i carried, the sincerity in his tone began to dissolve some of the heaviness that had settled in my chest. i could see the belief in him, unwavering and steadfast, as if he were willing to share his strength with me.

“really?” i asked, my voice barely above a whisper, needing the reassurance. the way he looked at me like i was capable of so much more than this moment made my heart swell.

“really,” he reassured, a gentle smile breaking through the seriousness. “you scored a goal, baby. i'm so proud of you. just because you got a red card doesn’t mean i’m disappointed with you.”

his words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, igniting a spark of determination within. i felt lighter, as if he had lifted a weight off my shoulders. with him beside me, i realized i wasn’t alone in this, i had someone who believed in me, no matter the circumstances. i rested my head on his shoulder, finding comfort in the warmth of his presence. rafe instinctively wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer as if shielding me from the world outside. in that moment, i felt a wave of reassurance wash over me, a sense of safety that i hadn't realized i craved so much.

his shoulder was solid beneath my head, a reminder that i wasn’t alone in this. i could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, calming my racing thoughts. the gentle weight of his arm around me felt like an unspoken promise—one that said i could lean on him, that i didn’t have to face my struggles alone.

in that moment, surrounded by his warmth, i felt a profound sense of connection between us. it was more than just friendship, it was a bond forged in shared struggles and victories, in quiet moments like this where everything else faded away. i closed my eyes, letting the comfort of his presence wash over me, feeling the weight of my worries lift just a little more. we stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's warmth, the world outside forgotten. and in that embrace, i realized that i was exactly where i was meant to be, and that together, we could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!🐇

[ylangelegy]

lvr ♾️ minghao x reader.

“take me out, and take me home. you're my, my, my lover.” # day seven of (the)8 days of minghao.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ headcanons of minghao as your boyfriend.

❥ falling in love. minghao's feelings remind you of a flower blooming. it's a slow, gradual thing. he's not immune to physical attraction, but love for him is something much deeper. he knows better than to take things solely on the surface level. love would only be possible for him with time, with both the sunshine and the rain. when it comes, he's not surprised. he will know that his feelings for you have been blossoming, have been growing, and he is never one to deny himself of pure and simple truths.

❥ confessing. minghao has never been a man of overtly grand gestures. some might see this as a con, but there's also appeal in the way he makes sure things are always clear and uncomplicated. his confession may come in the form of an afternoon in a café, over the pastries he knows you like best— or an evening under the stars, while you two are seated side by side on a park bench. he tells you as it is. i like you. no i think, no maybe. "you don't have to respond or even reciprocate," he will tell you, and he means it. "i just wanted to let you know."

❥ pet names. a part of minghao withers at the like of 'babe' and 'baby'. he's more comfortable with 'darling', if any, because there's a dozen ways he can say it. when he's trying to coax you out of bed. "darling, your five minutes are up." when he's exasperated and you're squabbling. "that's not what i said, darling." when he's struck by the way you look. "look at you, darling; you're the prettiest thing i've seen." (on occasion, minghao will use 'petal' or 'angel'. all soft, reverent names.)

❥ dating (1). dates with minghao are like you'd imagine. he's big on museums, especially the contemporary/modern ones. he enjoys walking around with you aimlessly, reading the descriptions out loud to you, and asking what you think about certain pieces. he's also a fan of nature; you can expect visits to botanical gardens, treks through sun-soaked trails.

❥ dating (2). there's also a part of minghao that revels in shopping dates. it's his not-so guilty pleasure, having the chance to visit strip malls or boutiques with you. he has a keen eye for articles of clothing that suit you the best. it's a little harder for you to help dress him, so you're likely to be on the receiving end of his slight side-eye whenever you pick out something rather questionable. he'll indulge you all the same, but he draws pretty clear lines on what matches his style. "we are not getting that," he half-begs as you insist on what he considers the world's most atrocious jacket. "i love you, but please!"

❥ apology language. fights with minghao may be few and far between, but they still happen. he can be sarcastic and sharp-tongued, after all; honest, but not sentimental. when apologizing to you, he's the type to accept responsibility and make restitution. "i was wrong," he'll start. "what can i do to make things right?" he's able to take ownership of when he screwed up, and he believes in implementing change in making amends. he expects the same energy from you, though, because minghao is not about to be in a relationship where there's no growth.

❥ the little things, a.k.a minghao is... gossip excitedly shared the moment he gets home ("you said i shouldn't tell anyone, but that doesn't count my partner"). outings with his parents, where he glows with pride at the thought of it being a 'double date'. voice messages sent whenever he's away; groggy recordings of "just got to my hotel room. i'll text once i've gotten some sleep. good night… or is it morning there?… ugh, whatever."

❥ love language to receive. despite being a man who received compliments on the daily, minghao will be the first to admit that affirmation hits different when it comes from you. he may not actively seek your validation, but you can see it in a dozen little ways. how he turns to you first when he's trying on a new outfit. how he looks for you in the crowd whenever he's performing. there's a certain tension that eases from his shoulders when you acknowledge him. he will try not to look too pleased about it; you'll find it in the twinkle in his eye, the shine of his smile.

❥ love language to give. minghao is a man who lives and breathes acts of service. you need to do your groceries? he's more than happy to tag along. you can't pick up your laundry? he'll get it for you. minghao makes sure that you always have gas in your tank, that he has pocket versions of your vanity kit in every bag of his. a line from hafiz's it happens all the time in heaven best describes minghao's credo when it comes to loving you: "my dear, how can i be more loving to you? / how can i be more kind?"

[feroluce]

Oh my gosh the way the Pop-Up Shop event ended and what it hinted at that's going on rn, and what it might imply about what's in store for the next time we see Sampo, I'm so excited AAAAAAA

Because it seems it really IS our Sampo, and whereas before I was absolutely delighted by the thought that he was possibly getting fucked with by some outside influence, and that was why he was saying such strange things... There's nothing quite like that going on here. There's no memetic virus messing with his head. There's no imposter, no possession, no nothing.

Just Sampo, and the ominous, all-consuming dread that hangs over his head like a guillotine, as he willingly walks right into what he is sure is a trap. ♡

Because this event was weird right off the bat, yeah? Sampo invites us in on a business deal that won't make him any money? The hell???

And I was just waiting on pins and needles for it to make sense, and oh, I was not disappointed at all. Because I've got a nice meta post about it over here, but Sampo actually DOESN'T make a lot of money most of the time- but he does always get something out of his dealings. He works for favors and good will and networking, but never for nothing. And it was the same here!

Sampo didn't make any money with this little business venture because that wasn't what he needed from it. That was never his goal to begin with. He just needed something entertaining.

Sampo has the key to get into the tavern's basement where Sparkle has been keeping his mask for him, but he still needs to be let into the front door of the tavern itself. The fun stories he got from this event were his entry fee. He leaves at the end because he's probably already on his way to Epsilon, where the World's End Tavern should be.

So that explains part of what was so strange this event. It's the rest of his ooc tendencies that have me like foaming at the mouth though because AAAAAAAAAA

There's long been hints of...some? kind of strain between Sampo and the rest of the Masked Fools. Like it starts all the way back in Belobog's main quest with the big infamous fourth-wall breaking sequence, where Sampo talks some shit.

And it continues in the Aetherium Wars event, where we finally get the confirmation that Sampo is a Masked Fool and even get to see him interact with Giovanni, one of his brethren! And where Sampo talks more shit. He also leaves the trailblazer a warning against Sparkle, who they hadn't met yet, and probably the Masked Fools in general.

And for some strange reason, it seems to be popular fanon that Sampo like. Talks a lot of shit? Or is rude in general? Like I feel like I see a lot of jokes about if Hook says a cuss word, it was probably his fault. But Sampo is actually pretty polite with everyone. I think the only time we really see him be harsh is when he has to set some hard boundaries in the museum event. Otherwise, he conducts himself like a model friendly businessman. Like he IS super shady and slimy, but he's still polite about it. I'm pretty sure the only time he actually talks any shit, and so bluntly, is about the Masked Fools or Epsilon as a whole. He really seems to have some sort of beef with them.

There's also his hilarious relationship with Sparkle, which I'm including for consideration because we don't know how common people like her are in the Masked Fools, so she might represent how Sampo interacts with a lot of them. ...But I'm pretty sure Sampo's grudge with her runs deeper than that anyway jdksajfdkljas

She's so funny I hope she fucks with him more FJDKSJAKD

Anyway, the point is, Sampo doesn't seem to see eye-to-eye with a lot of the rest of Aha's followers. And it was never hinted at before the pop-up shop event, but now I'm wondering if it might be like. An actual dangerous sort of situation.

Because during those brief packaging sequences, you get some. Pretty wild text dropped on you. There was actually a really cool explanation for it by another user already! But basically, all of the phrases are more fourth-wall breakage. They're all in-game achievements...except for one.

"This must be a trap create"

We never get to see the rest of the phrase. Just "This must be a trap create."

That is the only one we don't have an explanation for yet, at least as far as I know.

And Sampo talks so strangely throughout the whole event, it gets worse day by day, morose and morbid and dreading and sometimes even almost like he's warning the trailblazer against something about to happen.

I've already lovingly discussed it in an analysis about Sampo's name (alias included) but like. There certainly are some fun connections there. The Sampo of myth was smashed and lost to the sea. Poisson was flooded. Brueghel died and left a final painting of a storm at sea unfinished.

The Masked Fools are referred to with imagery of water and the sea. And frequently so.

And so I do wonder what Sampo knows, and what he's expecting to happen when he gets to that tavern at the end of the world. If maybe he thinks he's walking right into a trap, and is doing it willingly, doing it anyway, because, well.

Belobog is on the line.

And Sampo has already proven he seems so ready to do whatever it takes to protect it.

[ericsprincess]

if you take a bite (then i bite back)

nc-17, Hyunjae/reader, office au, dry-humping, mild force-feeding, humiliation

~~~

Disgusting. 

You pull a face and let the fork drop off your hand into the plate holding your half-eaten lunch with a clink. Despite your best efforts, the work has been piling on your desk for the entire day, folder after folder of new files to get through and you have barely made a dent, and now that you have finally found some time to have a quick lunch, just some measly fifteen minutes to inhale whichever pre-packaged meal you blindly grabbed from the convenient store next to the office building, he is ruining it for you. 

You frown at the table over, where Lee Jaehyun, your coworker and general pain in the ass, is currently also enjoying his lunch. If by enjoying you mean shamelessly stuffing his face with an entire bucket of fried chicken, alternating every few bites with the burger he's holding in one of his hands. There is a melting cup of ice cream in front of him, waiting for its turn. If you look closely, it's shaking in fear. The entire scene is obnoxious and embarrassing, but Jaehyun is eating like it's his last meal on earth, and does not seem to particularly care about what others might be thinking, while he's scarfing down a drumstick after drumstick, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie thrown over his shoulder so it doesn't get accidentally dipped into his french fry sauce. 

This has been a common sight in your office's breakroom these past few weeks. It didn't start suddenly, but it was still quick enough to alarm some of the more observing coworkers, to such an extent that Jacob from HR tentatively approached Jaehyun to carefully and very, very politely ask whether everything is okay? It's just, we have noticed some changes in your behavior, explained Jacob. You've been eating really concerning amounts of food lately, so your coworkers have been really worried about your health and well-being. Jacob almost shaked, clearly afraid he might end up having to submit his own report on himself for asking too personal questions. 

Thankfully, Jaehyun was understanding. He's just a stress eater. There is a big project going on right now and he's really overworked and nervous, so this has always been his usual way of coping. He will be back again to normal once this deadline is past, Jaehyun shrugged, backhandedly wiping the sweat off his hairline as he was chewing on a slice of extra large spicy pepperoni pizza with cheese stuffed crust. 

Now, after some time has passed, no one pays much attention anymore, passers-by go about their own day, completely ignoring the daily lunch break food orgy. If anything, your coworkers know about the project the team Jaehyun is in has been working on and they are not surprised he's been feeling stressed. So everyone understands this little bit of eccentricity.

And no one understands it better than you, especially since Jaehyun's project is also exactly the project you've been working on too. You're both part of the team. But unlike Jaehyun, you can barely eat from stress - half of the time you forget due to the mountain of paperwork you have to work through every day, the second half your stomach is clenching so hard from nerves you don't feel like eating at all. 

Which makes having to look at Jaehyun powering his way through the greasiest selection of local delivery food every single day feel like he's rubbing it in your face. You never liked him in the first place, this annoying Lee Jaehyun who had been walking around the office like he owns it since the day he was hired, with his perfectly pressed gray suits, dark chestnut hair always softly falling in place, never with any roots showing, and a nose that was definitely picked from a catalog. 

And this asshole is not even getting fat - rather the opposite, he's never looked better. He's gotten a lot bigger, but it's all gone into his muscle. You overheard Juyeon and Eric from legal talking about how Jaehyun ditched Juyeon and their thrice-a-week badminton sessions in order to hit the gym every day right after work for some crazy intense lifting and cardio program he's been doing in order to keep the weight off and energy up. 

And now your eyes are reaping the fruits of Jaehyun's impromptu bulk - his clothes have gotten a lot tighter on him and every time he raises his arm to take a bite of his burger, his muscles strain against the fabric. Not to speak about the poor buttons of his shirt, barely holding on together when his currently very voluminous chest expands with each (quite laborious) breath he takes as he chews. 

There is a drop of ketchup that's been slowly sliding off his burger and you're watching it as if you were hypnotized. It finally lets go and lands right on Jaehyun's left boob. He silently curses under his breath, while he puts the burger down on the tray and grabs a paper napkin, unsuccessfully trying to wipe the worst of it, and making his breast jiggle under the frantic motion. 

You keep staring.

Disgusting, indeed.

~~~

It's been a few more days of nothing except work, each day staying in the office longer and longer. Every evening you crawl home half dead, and go straight to bed to get at least some energy for another 12 hours of shifting through the papers that's waiting for you tomorrow. At least today it's friday, you suppress a yawn and throw the final folder on the "finished" pile while rubbing your eyes. Two glorious days of doing nothing, except sleeping, eating and catching up with the trashiest reality tv you know. You plan to order pizza and you also saw a cute little cake in the bakery this morning - an overdecorated little thing in the shape of a cat that is probably more marzipan than an actual cake, but you couldn't resist getting yourself a little treat after this horrible, horrible week. You put it into the break room fridge with a big glaring "PRIVATE" sticker on it and you're looking forward to eating it while chilling in bed. 

You turn off your computer, pack your things and head off to the break room to get your cake before leaving. It's empty, it's too late and almost everyone has left already, only Juyeon is there rinsing his lunchbox, apparently also about to leave. 

You nod at each other and you open the fridge to take out your cake when you freeze. 

You slowly pull out the transparent plastic case and you can't believe your own eyes. There is a huge chunk missing, right where the cat's left ear would have been. You can't even tell if it has been bitten off or hastily sliced off with a fork, but it has left a giant messy gash in the cat's cute head.

You swallow empty, barely suppressing your tears. This is too much. 

"Oh, I saw Jaehyun eating that..It's yours?" Juyeon turns, shaking off the water off his lunch box. 

That makes you see red. It's like this has been the last drop, work-wise, Jaehyun-wise, everything-wise and you are going to unleash hell. 

Without saying a word, you take your sad cake and leave a confused Juyeon in the break room, marching straight to Jaehyun's office. It's late, but the light is still on as expected. Without knocking, you throw the door open, walking up straight to Jaehyun, who's sitting behind his desk, still hunched over papers scattered around, immersed deeply in his work. 

He raises his head, startled and surprised and you throw the cake on the desk in front of him, and pull his chair away from the table so he can face you. 

"Any last words, before I stuff this cake into your ugly annoying face??" you yell, letting go of any politeness or professionalism. Just pure justified anger. 

"I-...Y/N…I-" he stutters, taken aback by the sudden outburst, raising his hands in defense, but you are already opening the plastic case and grabbing a fistfull of the cake while climbing on Jaehyun's lap. 

You don't waste any time before grabbing his jaw with your other hand and starting to smash the cake into his face, some getting in his mouth, some falling off as it's being smeared all over. 

"You fucking idiot! You stupid pig!" you keep yelling at him. "I was looking forward to this the entire day and I. Am. Just. So. Sick. Of. You." Each word emphasized with a wet slap over his cheeks, Jaehyun's eyes begin to water. He can only focus on breathing, to not choke accidentally on the cake you keep stuffing in his face, force feeding him like a goose. 

"Will you ever have enough?" you push another bunch of cake into his mouth, while he weakly whines. "You can have all of it, fuck, I don't even care if you choke, you're such a nuisance!"

You can't stop going off on him for a second, you're so angry, letting go of weeks of frustration and stress on him, and it feels so good that you almost don't notice - he's not resisting. He's not defending himself. Jaehyun is big and strong, he could push you off himself with one hand easily, but both of his hands are holding on to the armrests of his chair. He's letting you do it. 

You test the waters and shift your weight. Jesus. He's hard. 

"No reply? You have nothing to say?" you ask him meanly while stuffing your fingers along the cake into his mouth. He gags, but endures it while you press your fingers on his tongue. His tears are now flowing freely, his ears are red and face is dirty. You stuff the last bit of the cake into his mouth. and with that you subtly start moving on his lap, rubbing your pussy against his hard cock and his eyes bulge out. He can't talk but he lets out a whiny pathetic sound, while trying to swallow the cake without choking on it. 

"What? Did you think I wouldn't notice?" you grin at him. "You're so pathetic, getting off on this, such a pervert." you keep taunting him.

"What does it for you? Is it the yelling? The humiliation? Or do you just love cake that much? Or has it been that long since anyone has touched you?" you laugh. He's starting to moan, having finally swallowed all of the cake and you don't actually want him to answer. His answer doesn't matter anyways, so you put a hand over his dirty mouth to shut him up when he takes a breath to speak. 

"Actually I don't care. And you know what? Since you're enjoying yourself so undeservedly, I should be able to enjoy myself too," you say meanly, and pull at his shirt with your free hand until the buttons pop off, revealing his big chest, sweaty from the stress and exertion. 

You grab one boob to knead it roughly. "Do you like it?" you ask. "Are you working out so much so that everyone would notice your huge tits?"

You don't expect any answer, nor do you care, but he closes his eyes and nods anyway, all red and embarrassed, admitting to it reluctantly. What a sad weirdo.

You keep moving on his lap pulling and grabbing on his tits, even letting his face go so you can do it with both of your hands as you're moving on his lap, rubbing your clit over his clothed cock. Grabbing his big breasts, you enjoy how they feel in your hands and how you can squish them and press them together. You pull on his nipples until he squirms and cries out but never stops you, despite it being visibly painful, and you are definitely not holding back, but fuck, he's into it too and you're doing your best to get both off you off when he suddenly lets go of the armrests and grabs you by your hips. He pulls you closer and humps against you rough and hard as he cums, whining pathetically with his shirt busted open and face smeared in frosting and tears. 

Feeling his cock pulse in his pants as it gets even harder, shooting cum in his underwear, so he will be, to his shame, dirty and used all over is such a mean, but erotic thought, that you can feel your climax approaching very fast.

Not quite willing to let him see your face as you cum, you bury the face into his neck, inhaling the sickly sweet scent of the vanilla frosting mixed with Jaehyun's expensive cologne. Your movements slowly come to stop. 

You slowly come to your senses and not knowing exactly what to do now, awkwardly slide off Jaehyun's lap. He doesn't seem to care about moving beyond staring at you. There is a big dark stain on his formerly perfect gray pants. 

"Don't do this again, or else," you point a finger at him in feeble warning. It's awkward, your steam all fizzled out with your orgasm and he just keeps staring, his fucked out brain not being back on yet. There is cake everywhere and your fingers are sticky, just like the inside of your panties. What have you just done?

"Anyways… bye." you shift awkwardly, turn on your heel and leave his office hastily. Stopping at your desk, you take your things and run home, pretending nothing happened and you definitely didn't like it. 

~~~

Later that night, you're stubbornly sticking to the plan despite the myriad of thoughts running through your head - sitting in your bed, stuffing yourself with a slice of pizza, watching tv.

Your phone beeps with a notification. You have half a mind to ignore it but curiosity takes the better of you. You wipe your greasy fingers into the blanket and unlock it. There is a new message from an unknown number.

From: 7xx-8xx-2xxx

I'd like to make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow at 8? It's Jaehyun btw.  

You yell into the pillow. 

[strawbbcake]

I'm european, and I don't trust myself to throw around facts about usa politics, so I'm just gonna shut my mouth about this. I do wish kamala would've won tho, that's the only thing I'll say

anyway, I do want to complain about the politics in my country. sorry for anything that might not make sense. translating this is a bit hard ngl.

here, in austria, we had elections for the national council a while back. a party named fpö won. fpö stands for "freedom party austria." it's a right extremist party, standing for the traditional hetero family, against immigrants, against abortion and its overall pretty extreme and problematic.

the politician Herbert Kickl, which is part of fpö, often comes across as extremely aggressive, in my opinion. "Festung Österreich" which basically means "fortress austria" seems to be his idea of the perfect austria. he'd like to close the borders and send immigrants to other countries. (more on that in a sec)

his claims are so problematic sometimes, it's insane. he is the type of person that just complains and hates and throws insults around. he thinks climate change doesn't exist (or if it does, isn't man-made), and has some problematic claims that you can research if you want, I don't want this to get too long.

as of coming across as aggressive, he often reminds (not only me but a lot of ppl) of Hitler at his speeches. he calls himself "Volkskanzler" (Idk how to correctly translate that), which, surprise surprise, the nazis called Hitler. this isn't a controversial opinion of mine, as wild as it may sound, a lot of people think this way

coming back to the deportation of immigrants, the party wants to deport criminal or illegal immigrants. I understand that, yes, but it truly isn't just criminal immigrants. anyone that I know, that is a fan of the fpö, is very hateful of any immigrant at all. "if they work, they can stay". sometimes people coming here have to wait a long ass time to even be able to go work.

one thing I don't understand about this at all is all the boys my age that think it's cool to vote for this party. they're either not austrian themselves or have a ton of friends that aren't. pisses me off a lot

at the end I wanna talk about the election posters?? they're weird as fuck, if I can say so. I'll try my best to translate some.

"your will be done" - which is a verse in the bible and a christian song

"the only one on your side" - self explanatory

stuff like that. I just find them weird and uncomfortable because most of them are just plain white with big blue font on top, but that's just my opinion. what's really noticeable tho, is that almost 80% of the posters I see are scribbled on or ripped, which really says a lot. I've never seen a drawn on poster from another party. things I've seen on there are "nazi pigs" "no 4th reich" "fascists",....going on like that.

anyways, if you've read all that... thank you? I don't really expect anyone to. I just really wanted to rant about this. maybe it's nice for people outside of austria to see how politics are going here, I'm not sure if Americans, for example, have any clue about this. if I said anything that's incorrect, feel free to correct me anytime. I don't mind at all as long as no one insults me.

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hey.

First.

I love all your writing, they r fun to read and they make my day brighter ✨✨

Really Appreciate it.

Here is the request:

I wanted to request Solomon

We all know that his an old man ( whom we love so much ) and his based off the character from the Bible king Solomon.

If Solomon having 700 wives were true what would it be like

If MC and Solomon end up arguing over something stupid, MC just goes," Then am one of your collections to ? That's all I am to you! Right" something like that 😭

That line was horrible but something along those lines

It can be angst and fluffy.

Thanks a bunch! Wishing you an amazing day ahead!

Heyyy I absolutely love your request cuz duh. They make Solomon and the others seems like there was nothing before MC which is unlikely. Like I mean I'm pretty sure all of them had a few relationships before MC at some point or another. Anyway. Enjoy!

Author's note: I'll be posting short stories for the next few days since I'm working on a bigger story this time which will take a while. Hope it's not a problem.

Contains: Angst/Fluff

GN!MC x Solomon

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

---

MC and Solomon had agreed to spend the evening together—just a quiet, uninterrupted night. But Solomon ended up running late, engrossed in some old spell or magical artifact he was researching, losing track of time. By the time he shows up, MC’s already feeling hurt and dismissed, thinking he prioritizes ancient things over their relationship.

MC: arms crossed, eyes narrowed as Solomon finally enters the room “Oh, look who finally decided to show up.”

Solomon: sighs, looking tired but trying to be calm “MC, I told you, I lost track of time. It happens. You know how important my research is.”

MC: “And I thought we were important too, Solomon. I’m not asking for much, just…a single night where I don’t feel like I have to compete with some dusty book or enchanted artifact.”

Solomon: growing defensive, a slight edge to his tone “It’s not a competition, MC. You’re acting like I’m choosing my work over you on purpose.”

MC: voice raising slightly, hurt “Well, that’s how it feels! You make these promises, but when it comes down to it, I’m always the one waiting. Why is it so hard for you to just…be here?”

Solomon: frowning “I’m here now, aren’t I? I don’t see why this has to be such a big deal.”

MC: glares, feeling even more hurt by his dismissive tone “A big deal? Maybe it wouldn’t be if this didn’t keep happening. You say you’re here, but half the time, I feel like I’m just a…just a side note in your never-ending list of priorities.”

Solomon: sighs, crossing his arms defensively “MC, I care about you, but I also have responsibilities—things that existed long before we ever met.”

MC: hurt, finally snapping “Oh, here we go—‘long before we met.’ That’s just it, isn’t it? This isn’t even about tonight; it’s about me realizing that I’ll never be more than one part of your centuries-long collection!”

Solomon: taken aback, not expecting that turn “What? Collection? MC, where is this even coming from?”

MC: “You probably don’t even see it, do you? How easy it is for you to just…move on, like I’m just another person you’re adding to the archive of your life. You’ve had 700 wives, haven’t you? Well, I guess I’m just another one for the record books, huh?”

Solomon: eyes widening in hurt, tone softening as he steps closer “MC, that’s not even fair. Those stories…they’re just stories, memories from lifetimes ago. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you feel like you’re ‘just another one,’ but believe me, you’re not.”

MC: arms crossed, looking away, voice trembling “It just…feels like I’ll never really matter to you. Not when you’ve had hundreds of people pass through your life like it’s nothing.”

Solomon: reaches out, resting a hand on MC’s shoulder, his tone soft and sincere “MC, I know my past seems…well, complicated, but I need you to believe that this is different. You’re not just part of my history. You’re the person I want in my present, and my future.”

MC: sighing, though still a little guarded “Then…show me, Solomon. Prove that I’m more than just a ‘number’ to you.”

Solomon: nodding with a small smile, determined “Every day, if that’s what it takes. I promise.”

[katboykirby]

Okay, so! It's late and I should've been asleep hours ago so I probably won't be writing a fully in-depth/detailed response, but I can offer a little bit of perspective from the writing side of things (as someone with experience in the industry, who's worked on several mobage games)

So, a big part of the plot/story aspect is due to OM being a live service mobage. By the inherent nature of the genre, the story must always be able to continue going (ie: the story can never "end" because then the game itself would end)

This means that the writers will always be limited in how much they are allowed to do, because the story must still be able to continue after the current Lesson/Season/whatever. No matter how big or crazy you want to make the plot in S3, you still have to reel it back in by the end so that S4 can still happen. Status Quo is hugely important for this style of game. Making significant, permanent changes means having to commit to those changes and not revert back, which is risky from a development perspective (if players don't like the change, they may drop the game) but also means that all of your writers are now railroaded into writing within the bounds that this new permanent change has established. It's not that this is impossible, but it's common for management and executives to discourage it.

This is also the reason why it feels like character development never truly "sticks" even though we see the boys learning the same lessons over and over. No matter how many times Levi has a big moment where he learns to be more assertive and believe in himself, he'll be back to his usual characterisation next season. Ditto for Satan's relationship with Lucifer. Lucifer himself will re-learn not to keep secrets from his brothers or take the burden of responsibility alone, over and over again.

If a character is allowed to have an actual conclusion to their personal arc, then that means that their growth is now over. It's satisfying for players because we get to see them struggle, learn, grow, and have an actual conclusion. But the problem is...then what? The story itself still has to continue. And if a character's arc is "over" then that leaves them with much less for the writers to do as the story continues.

Stories need conflict, and the same is true of characters. They need to struggle, they need to learn and grow, otherwise they would be boring. If Satan never struggled with his anger issues or his relationship with Lucifer again after S2, then he would have very little to do in every following Season of the story. All of his personal growth is concluded, so what would there be to focus on? Sure, new struggles and new character arcs could be introduced, but then you start introducing the same narrative hurdles as mentioned above. You especially don't want to fiddle with the characters TOO much, because you'll risk losing that character's stans if their favourite blorbo is irrecoverably changed in a way they don't like.

With this genre of game, it's much preferred to keep the characters as consistent as possible, because you'll be writing these same characters continuously for many many years. OM itself is about to turn 5 years old, and "if it's not broken, don't fix it" is a big aspect that the writers will have drilled into them.

Speaking of the writers themselves, this is the last point I'll touch on for now. While we don't know absolutely everything about Solmare's inner workings as a company (for good reason) we DO know a few things. Mainly:

OM's writers are often split up into many different smaller teams, and will be working on multiple assignments (Main Story, Pop Quiz event stories, Devilgrams, etc) at the same time

It's not entirely uncommon for Solmare to bring in guest writers from outside of the company

Not all of the writers from 2018-2019 are still working at Solmare, and the staff will change regularly as older employees leave and new staff is hired (just like any other company)

Which all means that at any given time, completely different people could be writing the plot between one Lesson and the next. This is generally good for the writers themselves (since delegating the workload in this way is much better than having individual writers taking on far too much on their own) but it also means we get things like inconsistency with the characters, or continuity errors. Communication and management are much harder when you have a large team working on many different assignments at once. This is even more likely to be the case when a guest writer is brought in from outside, because they will be less familiar with the story and characters. (This is how we ended up with Lucifer's controversial "Lady" lyric in "Arcadia" - the songwriter was not a Solmare employee and not a member of the OM writing team)

This is something that happens with all written media, but the more writers you have working on a project means there will just be more chances for things like this to slip through the cracks.

Anyway, sorry to ramble like crazy on your post (and I'm tired so I'm not even sure if everything I said made sense) but hopefully this was at least interesting for some people to read!

i also think that either obm needs better writers OR if it’s not an issue with the writers themselves, that they should start thinking about where they want the game to go. the story is so… disjointed… and messy. with every season, it just feels like the story deteriorates in quality bc nothing is ever at stake + nothing changes. character development and plot points are easily forgotten in favor of having scenes with characters instead (which like i know that’s the main point of the game but … it all feels… cheap?? idk). nothing ever happens in the main storyline and thats just ?? wack