#you are hurt and you feel the pain. However

[kisakunt]

BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i���ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI

[strange-aeons]

hi strange i’ve been enjoying yr videos for about four years thank u for giving me giggles for so long. however i am writing as i am not totally sure who else to ask…

my boyfriend had a traumatic pneumothorax last week and about 80% of his right lung collapsed. i don’t really know anything about pneumothorax (although i have learned so much recently lol) aside from hearing you mention it and as such i don’t know how to help him :(

i know it’s a shot in the dark but i was wondering if there are any comforts or ways to alleviate pain you could share? thank you so much strange you are super tough btw to have gone through this several times this Sucks big time

many good wishes to you and your sweet hairless babies in the new year!

If it happened one week ago he’s already gotten through the worst part! I’m assuming he’s still hospitalized with a chest tube in right now??

When I was in that situation it helped a lot having frequent visits from my partner and family. Especially when they brought snacks!!!!!! Hospital meals can be borderline inedible and there’s no way of escaping to the food court when you have a chest tube in (unless you plan to deceive multiple nurses and risk life threatening infection through the OPEN HOLE IN YOUR CHEST. Don’t do that).

Good food can be a relief in an otherwise horrible time, so finding out what he really wants to eat and brining it will definitely help. If he has no appetite then things like smoothies or drinkable soup can be very helpful. I often live off booster juice and Tim Hortona chicken noodle soup when hospitalized.

Finding the right media to keep sane is also very important!!! Your sleep schedule disintegrates entirely when laying on your back full of tube for multiple days. 2AM listening to alarms go off and 6AM getting woken up for x-rays and 1pm having the lunch slop delivered and 3pm being woken up for x-rays and 9pm visit from your surgeon all become basically indistinguishable, especially if you have no windows. Podcasts were ideal for me because it can be very hard to find a comfortable position with a chest tube / pneumothorax and looking at a screen was often too much of a hassle. Queer as fact and fall of civilizations are both excellent if you want non fiction btw. Old gods of Appalachia or welcome to nightvale if you want fiction.

There’s not a lot that you as a loved one can do about his physical pain, but I will share some of my pneumothorax expertise with you and anyone else who might go through this.

There’s no nerve endings in the lungs so all the pain/ discomfort related to a pneumothorax has to do with pressure in the chest cavity.

The pain is the absolute worst when your lung is actively collapsing so when that feeling starts SHOVE SOME EXTRA STRENGTH ADVIL OR TYLENOL DOWN YOUR THROAT, then lay down and wait for it to finish collapsing. It may seem tempting to rush to the hospital as fast as possible (or rush your loved one who’s lung is collapsing to the hospital) but trust me the last thing you want to do with a lung that is actively deflating like a sad balloon is exert yourself (this is how I collapsed my lung the full 100% and could not move my upper body for an hour. Quirky). Give it at least 30 minutes of floor time before you try to move. You will have a way better time getting to the hospital.

Wait sorry I lied lung re-inflation hurts sometimes more than the initial collapse. The sometimes are the times when ER nurses do not know how to do it properly. Immediately after they put the chest tube in, they attach it to a suction machine to suck out the excess air in your chest cavity. I do not know if these machines are the same internationally (I’m Canadian) but if you’re dealing with one where the settings are percentages, the one you want is 20% suction. NOT 100%!!! that just causes unnecessary excruciating pain without being more effective. I have had to fight numerous nurses while in the worst pain of my life to TURN THE PAIN MACHINE DOWN. fuck the pain machine. Anyway. After the pain machine they leave the tube in for a few more days to make sure the lung stays inflated. Nearing the end of that process, most of the discomfort is caused by the tube itself, so as horrible disgusting the worst getting that thing ripped out is, just know you will feel so much better after.

Throughout the healing process (and in the case of small pneumothoraxes not requiring chest tubes — I’ve had over 10 of those ones) I’ve noticed that heightened discomfort lasting a few minutes results from going from laying down to standing up or vice verse, or from bending over. This is why I have pioneered the sophisticated technique know as the pneumothorax squat. It is just as cool and hot as you’re imagining.

This post was supposed to be about how to support a loved one with a pneumothorax what the heck am I even talking about now.

Most of what he’s going to need will seem boring or insignificant. Companionship. Food. Medication. Toiletries. COMPANIONSHIP. podcast recommendations. But it absolutely is not insignificant. Abruptly losing mobility, independence, and bodily autonomy as a young person is really fucked up and I cannot fathom doing it without my family and my partner, even if most days that consisted of talking to me and bringing me smoothies and underwear.

Wishing a quick recovery to your boyfriend! Good luck with everything!!

[absoluteocellibehavior]

THIS IS THE ONE I'VE BEEN WAITING FORRRRRR!!!

NOEL AS JUDGEMENT!! LET'S TALK ABOUT IT!! Ok, so Judgement is the second to last card in the major arcana. You are nearing completion with this card. Judgement is all about taking the past experiences you've had and moving forward positively with them. It's also about undergoing a period of healing from past negative experiences. Both of these Noel has going in spades. Noel's life has been less than easy. Hell, his life has been turmoil since the jump. Between losing his best friend in the war, to seeing the last remains of his private investigating partner ripped apart before his eyes, to being tortured by the King in Yellow for 10 years, Noel would have every reason to be cynical and hateful towards life. However, Noel is not this way. While his over-social tendencies could be argued as a part of Noel's persona of his best friend, it's very clear that Noel is a compassionate and caring person from how he treats Arthur and especially through how he treats John. He is using the hurt and pain from his past in order to move forward positively. In a more direct way, Noel in past had promised Lorick that he would help Arthur now in the present. So, that in of itself is using experiences in the past to proceed in the present. Noel is characterized as being quick witted, clear-thinking, and experienced which is why he is such an asset to Arthur and John.

Which is why his depiction in this is so tasty... <3

Take a look at him. Does he look certain to you? Does he look decisive to you? If you said no, then you're on the right track. Murky waters and foggy skies are clear indications in Reiki sessions that the person is feeling conflicted, confused, apprehensive, unclear, nervous, etc etc. Both of these are depicted in this card. Clouds appear the most in the Suit of Swords in the minor arcana which represent thoughts, intellect, and generally the Mind. When you have clouds, you have foggy/cloudy/unclear thinking. As another fun detail, clouds generally represent imagination, thoughts, and DREAMS! Yes, dreams! You know who else has a lot to do with dreams? Well, let's take a look at the water there. Water in tarot generally represents the emotions, intuition, and the subconscious. Yes, sure. Noel has been able to move on from the King in Yellow and has attempted to put together a resemblance of normalcy in his life afterwards in the City that Never Sleeps. But! But <3. Take a look at this quote from Season 4 Part 40 I:

Up until this point, Noel has been confident, guiding, and focused. However, when he is confronted head on with his past with the King in Yellow, all of that is lost. He becomes unsure, nervous, and irrational. He puts on a display of still being able to think clearly but it is obvious that he is not based on their encounter with the Grand Vizier. I do give him the credit that he becomes more confident later on, but we can't discredit how this is affecting him. That is why he see this in the card. He's focusing on the murky waters. He's focusing on the King in Yellow dipping into his subconscious with those tendrils closing in on him in the depths. That past coming back to haunt him. As we know in Part 40 II, The King in Yellow is able to take over Noel's weak subconscious at this moment and causes him to leap off of the balcony. He can't see the light of the Moon or the Sun. His trust that things will work out and his hope is slipping. He's wrapped up in the cloudy, murkiness that surrounds him.

Throughout this entire season, Arthur has eclipsed John shown by the Moon eclipsing the Sun here. It's an Arthur heavy season with Arthur growing and reaching out for allies and help beyond John. However, this also left John in the dark leading to some... unsavory decisions (*cough* *cough* nearly killing Oscar *cough*). However, Noel is the one that breaks that in this season. He talks directly to John. He makes John feel heard. To feel like a piece in things again. Most importantly, Noel forgives John in Part 40. While he doesn't have the knowledge that John was in the book while Noel was being tortured by the King in Yellow, Noel has an intimate understanding that John is something wholly his own and attempting to work towards good. You know what's another big association with Judgement? Mmhm. Forgiveness. Remember who is ultimately able to save Noel in Part 40? That's right. John. John is able to shine forth against Yellow and grab onto to Noel to pull him and Arthur back onto the balcony. He is able to shake Noel from this cloudy, dark thought and provide him with clarity. That's why you see that little shine of the Sun breaking forth from the Moon <3. However, the moment that Noel is able to gain his clarity and hope back... he's shot in the neck by Larson. As much as I want that star shape on his neck to be some sort of representation of Oscar... it's representing that impending shot to the neck (Potato Lord, when I get you! When I get you, Potato Lord- /ref).

LET'S GET BACK TO THE FUN STUFF BECAUSE I AM NOW SAD-

Color schemes, my dears. Color schemes. You notice that Arthur and John's cards are warm toned, while Noel's and Oscar's are cool toned? THAT'S RIGHT! JARTHUR AND HOLY GHOSTS!! However, you see their relationships, these color schemes tie those characters together. Arthur and John's ties are clear. Noel and Oscar are bound by their help that they provided for John and Arthur in addition to a popular thought that they two continue their work together after the events of Season Four. In addition to all of this, The Star, The Moon, The Sun, and Judgement are all cards that appear back to back. They are close to one another and therefore their meanings are in addition in relation to one another. The previous three seem clear but without the experience and delving into those three cards, you don't have the fullness of your past experiences to move forward or the reveling in how far you've come when reaching Judgement. Remember that the Major Arcana tells a story of the journey of the Fool, the first card. The cards echo the stories of the ones that come before them and influence the experience of the next. Those four are tied to one another. Oscar kick-starts Arthur's journey in Season Four. Noel is one of the last ones that Arthur is with at the end of Season Four. His... disappearance happens right before the completion of Season Four and the beginning of another arc. Remember how Judgement is the second to last card in the major arcana? Well, the card that comes next is The World. A completion. A finalization. A close. And then the narrative begins again with The Fool. Again with Faroe. Carrot and Stick, remember? One of the motivations for the search for the Black Stone in Season Five. This narrative has finished. And another one begins again…

From the top, shall we?

XX Judgement

Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

hold me close

IN WHICH jake comes back from tour missing you so much, he doesn’t want to waste a single second to even take off your clothes

PAIRING ⟡ idol!jake x gf!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ dry humping (that’s literally it) + cumming in pants

WORD COUNT ⨯ 0.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . i’m an avid pathetic!jake enjoyer

ENHYPEN going on tour is both an exciting, new and prideful experience and the thing you dread the most. You weren’t able to accompany them as you’d hoped because of school, which meant almost two months without Jake by your side.

It was hard on him, too. Especially filled with the adrenaline from the concert, Jake wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and spend whatever energy he had left fucking you into the mattress. Then, he’d prepare for the concert the following day, rinse and repeat. Without you, however, he was doomed to weakly jerk off to whatever sexy photos you sent him every now and again, or the few videos he took with you.

Finally, he has you to himself again.

“I missed you so much,” he huffs into your ear.

Jake’s voice tickles your skin, causing you to stutter in your movements. He groans.

Right as he got off the plane not more than an hour ago, he was texting you about how much he missed your touch. He told you he needed you then and there, even sent a picture of his hand on his growing erection in the back of the company van.

Now, you find yourself grinding against him, still wearing the flimsy skirt you wore to campus and he in his loose-fitted jeans, which fold perfectly into your core.

His nails dig crescents into your skin where he lifts a bit of your shirt for a better grip. The pain hurts so good.

Jake pushes you back and pulls you forward in a rhythmic pattern to get you both where you want to go. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he whispers, a pleasured smirk forming on his face as he shuts his eyes tightly.

His hips grind up into yours, bulge protruding where you need it most. As much as you want to rip the material off of him, you’re too desperate to get off with him to stop now.

You roll forward and he rolls up. “Fuck,” you sigh pleasurably. Your head naturally falls into the crook of his neck.

Jake takes this as an inviting opportunity to suck hickeys into the skin of yours. “Haven’t seen you in so long—” He kisses the skin he just bruised. “—I have to make sure everyone knows you're taken.”

You giggle at his words and his lips trickling down your neck, but it soon morphs into a whine as you feel your core growing warm.

Picking up your pace, you roll your hips into Jake’s crotch. Your cunt runs against his bulge at every angle and it feels so good.

“‘Gonna cum?” Jake pants from below.

Lost in the pleasure, you can’t bring yourself to answer him with words. You whimper against his skin, lifting your head to crash your lips onto his. He pulls your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it and moaning like it tastes like candy. To him, it is.

Jake bucks his hips and suddenly it all comes rushing out of you. You let out a pornagraphic moan while doubling over him, feeling a wet patch forming in your panties. Beneath you, Jake has his own stain on his pants, but he doesn't seem to mind as he drops his head back while catching his breath through quiet shuttered moans.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He’s pulling you in, laying your head onto his shoulder, but keeping your legs draped over his. You feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand on his chest. “Sorry…”

You tilt your head up. “What for?”

“That wasn’t very gentlemanly.”

“What—you wanted to bring me flowers, too? Before fucking me into next week?”

He laughs.

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You attempt to get up, but your shaking legs bring you back down into his arms. “Later.”

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓢ixteen

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀time has passed and your pregnancy has progressed, meaning you’re starting to show. the wedding of peter and mj has arrived, you are the maid of honor. unfortunately, miguel is the best man. an awkward ceremony for you both.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, brief religious themes (mention of churches), emotional distress, swearing, mild arguments, mild violence, jealous!miguel (yessir hehe)

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

several weeks have passed and your pregnancy has progressed. you’re starting to show, a little baby bump. the sight always makes you smile, knowing your little bundle of joy rests in there. since your decision of keeping the baby, you’ve been happy. you’ve been searching baby clothes and nursery stuff nonstop. you created a nursery pinterest board of cute nursery ideas. aesthetics are your thing so you have been searching for both boy and girl themes but also neutral themes as well. so many cute and creative ideas, you have over 200 pins saved.

since this new turn in your life, you have also been thriving. work has been good, publishing top worthy articles which leaves a very pleased jameson praising everyone in the office and offering cookies. that surprised everyone to see their grumpy, sassy ass boss so cheerful but they didn’t complain. happy boss, happy work life. one day you even got sent home early, crusty from your work because he was very happy, and there was no way you would decline that offer. you also informed jameson of your pregnancy and future maternity leave which he of course grants and congratulates you with the baby.

you finally told your family about the baby, which created a cheerful screaming and hugging apocalypse. another grand baby for the family. there were questions about the father but you avoided answering or say it’s complicated. however, you did tell the truth to your parents because you can never lie to them. they wanted to kill miguel but the last thing they want is to complicate things than they already are. instead, they support you and the baby as the caring parents and grandparents they are.

while you’ve thriving on the new journey, miguel still lingers in your mind. his number is blocked to prevent further communication of regret and lame ass apologies. you’ve also taken further lengths such as blocking any social media accounts of his. that bastard deserves tasting his own medicine. he doesn’t know you’re staying at anne’s but is aware you aren’t home. your friends vowed to never tell miguel your whereabouts. although, they would tell you how upset he was whenever they encountered him and begs to them to know where you are. your reaction was scoffing and rolling your eyes. know the asshole knows how it feels, fucking irony at its best.

however, a part of you deep down misses him. after weeks of not seeing him, you felt a bit of relief when miguel finally returned. you truly believed he would never come back and didn’t want to be involved with the baby, that it was the end of your relationship. technically it was the end and it hurts to admit that. seeing him for the first time after those painful weeks made you want to run into his arms and cry. don’t be mistaken, you’re still fucking pissed at him. but that doesn’t discard your feelings for him, the love you have for him that still lingers in your fragile heart. no matter how much you hate miguel, a small part of you still loves him. that is the shittest part of all.

no matter the pain he caused you, that love never vanished. that proves how deeply you love miguel and the impact he made in your life. love is a fucked up thing. you’ve already learned two lessons about it. the first broken your heart, the second rotten it. how could it ever be repaired from such damage? it will be a long, difficult recovery but you’ll get there eventually. this baby will restore your heart.

moving on with life, major events are happening. first and foremost, the wedding of peter and mary jane.

the long anticipated ceremony has finally arrived. the day your best friend marries the love of her life, who is also your friend. you all have been excited for this day to come. originally the ceremony was going to be taken place at a church but mary jane wanted an outdoor wedding and peter had no problem with that, he liked that better anyways. a simple outdoor wedding decorated in neutral colors.

it’s a big day for peter and mj but also for everyone, including you since you’re the maid of honor. since you’re pregnant and have a tiny baby bump, you had to get a size up of your dress to accommodate your gradually expanding belly. it’s still tiny but visible which you don’t mind. the dress matches with the theme, a pretty ash gray satin mermaid tail gown. you and the girls get ready as well help mary jane get dressed in her wedding gown. you and anne assist her getting the dress on, lyla did her makeup and styled her hair. just a cute girls moment, dressing up and doing each other’s makeup.

after doing the finial touches on mj’s appearance, you all step back to admire the bride’s final form. the three of you stare in awe of your beautiful friend. the gown, hair, and makeup, it’s all perfect.

“you look so beautiful.” lyla smiles with glossy eyes.

“honey, you look like an angel.” anne compliments.

“the most gorgeous bride ever.” you add.

mj began forming up her own tears. “aww you guys!”

“no no no! don’t cry! the makeup!” lyla warns.

the bride softly chuckles, fanning herself so the tears dry up and not ruin the perfect makeup. “i’m trying not to, just can’t help it sometimes.”

the four of you gather together in a group hug, letting out all the emotions without tears.

“you guys look beautiful too.” mj gestures at the matching bridesmaids gowns.

“especially ms. maid of honor here.” lyla gently nudges your shoulder playfully.

you roll your eyes, unable to not smile. “oh shut up. the spotlight is supposed to be on mj, not me.”

“whaaat? i can’t help it how cute your little baby bump looks in that dress!” the short-haired woman gestures at your brief pregnancy belly.

“how’s the baby doing?” anne asks.

“they’re okay, just chilling in there.”

“they’ll definitely love the food and cake later.”

you snort. “don’t doubt it, we’ll see what they like and don’t like tonight.”

“too bad you can’t drink, you’ll be missing out on all the good shit, especially the wine.” lyla jokes.

“gotta make sacrifices.” you shrug, laughing.

“and it’s worth the sacrifice.” mj approaches you and gently takes her hands in yours. “you are so rocking this little baby bump, i’m glad they’re a part of my wedding, even though they’re unborn.” her kind words about your baby makes your heart warm.

“yeah, too bad miguel isn’t here to see it.” lyla said.

“wait— isn’t miguel here?” anne inquires, making the room go silent. “isn’t he the best man?”

oh shit.

miguel is the best man. peter chose him to be his best man since they are friends since high school. he is the best man and you’re the maid of honor, meaning you have to walk down the aisle together.

oh fuck, you completely forgot.

you suddenly feel your heart drop at the realization. you have to walk down the aisle with the man broke, rotten your heart. the man who left you alone for three weeks without communication. the man who betrayed your heart and trust. the deeper you think, the heavier your breathing becomes.

your three friends look at you with concerned looks, approaching your carefully.

“hey, you okay?” anne places a gentle hand on your arm, bringing you back to your senses.

“yeah, yeah i’m fine.” you quickly reassure them, waving it off. “just forgot about that…”

“are you sure? mj asks, a serious glint in her eyes. “if that makes you uncomfortable, we can him switch out for someone else or we can—”

“no no no, no switching around. it’s totally okay, don’t worry about it, please.”

“honey, i’m not allowing that asshole near you and the baby. i’ll gladly ask peter for eddie or harry to take his place by any means necessary.”

you shake your head. “no, mj please. i’m not allowing my shit interfere with your wedding. this is your special day and i will not allow my personal shit to ruin that, no fucking way. please don’t worry about it, i’ll be fine and it’s only a few seconds then we go our separate ways. the baby and i will be okay.”

the room goes silent as your words sink in. you can tell she heavily disagrees, so does lyla and anne, but accepts it. the three of them trust you and promise to keep a cautious eye on miguel at all times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the wedding is about to start. the bridesmaids and groomsmen are called to gather for the ceremony. you are the first one ready and walk to the door that leads to the backyard where everyone is sitting and waiting. as you make your way towards the door, there is already someone else waiting in the small room. you recognize that tall, broad figure and chocolate locks of hair any day. suddenly, your blood went cold and heart rate increases.

the clicking of your heels gave you away as miguel turns around a little too excitedly. his eyes widen and lips part open in pure astonishment. those wide brown eyes trail over your appearance, how the ash green compliments your skin tone beautifully, how the dress captures your curves perfectly. your beauty never fails to take his breath away.

but really captures his attention is the tiny visible baby bump wrapped in ash green.

you’re starting to show. it’s so tiny yet visible, visual evidence of the tiny life growing inside you. the tiny life that will become a combination of you and him.

the guilt strikes in like a knife.

his heart beats in both guilt and glee.

guilt because of the pain he caused you and glee because of the baby is finally shining through.

this is first time he sees you after a month and a half. since your argument and your disappearance, miguel has been drowning himself in guilt and shame more than ever. it’s been eating him alive. he has shed so much tears than he could count. your disappearance left him a mess. he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he stopped visiting the boxing gym because he never left his home, he didn’t bother to shave due to no motivation so miguel had a stubble for a while.

he was so dysfunctional because he lost you.

now here you are, a month and a half later, standing in front of him like a fucking goddess while he still feels like an absolute piece of shit.

“you… you look… beautiful…”

his weak ass tone and attempt to be flattering makes you roll your eyes in disgust. unfortunately, you can’t deny that miguel looks handsome in that tux. how it snugs up his broad shoulders. those brown locks slicked back, unlike its usual waviness. the intoxicating scent of his cologne, musky. the scent that you love and drives you fucking crazy.

it was an uncomfortable… painful silence between you two as you wait for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to arrive, standing at opposite ends with great distance. you glance around anywhere to avoid his gaze while miguel struggles internally what else to say and simply admire you in silence. his palms opening and closing as a sign of anxiety.

his eyes admire you with remorse while yours look out the window at the crowd of people waiting for the ceremony to begin. with an anxious breath, miguel takes slow caution steps toward you, reaching out with a shaky hand but you catch him.

“don’t you fucking touch me.” you snap.

panicky, miguel immediately takes back his hand and stops, still leaving reasonable space between you two as he stares at you with remorseful eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, i just—”

“cállete.”

and he does.

your fingers rub the temples of your forehead as you exhale deeply. “mj wanted to switch you out with the other guys so i wouldn’t have to walk with you.”

miguel frowns at that but remains silent.

“but i told her no because i didn’t want ruin her wedding because of me.” you spare him a glance as you lower your hand. “peter chose you to be his best man and switching you with someone else would’ve made things complicated and i didn’t want that.”

that makes him feel more guilty. the last thing you want is to walk down the aisle with the man who broke your heart indefinitely yet you refuse to change that because your friends are much more important than your own needs and discomfort.

“so i’m going to say this once,” you glare at him, making him anxious for what you’re about to propose. “the only time you’re gonna touch me is walking down that aisle for our friends. don’t even think this means anything. the minute we part ways, you stay the fuck away from me.”

your cold tone and piecing eyes of anger sends an unpleasant shiver down miguel’s spine. he understands your reasons and obeys, no matter how much it pains him to be in the same room as you but not able to be close to you. he doesn’t deserve to. a light nod reflects his understanding, sealing the deal.

the bridesmaids and groomsmen finally arrive. lyla and anne kept skeptical eyes on miguel, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. it was time to line up, the maid of honor and the best man in front then the rest behind them. lyla with harry and anne with eddie, leaving you with miguel. everyone had their arms linked, making you hesitant to do the same with the man who hurt you. miguel senses your hesitation, which he doesn’t blame you for, and offers his arm to take. with a quiet sigh, you slowly link your arm with his. normally you would grip onto his bicep but considering the current circumstances, your hand simply hangs over without touching him, only your arms linked together. the fabric of his sleeve glazing against your skin. both your hearts leap with great anxiety as it invades your bodies.

you are touching each other for the first time in months, in which feels like an eternity.

you pretend it doesn’t phase you as the ceremony music begins playing outside. while his heart beats like crazy, miguel sneaks a glance at you making sure you’re okay but you focus ahead. both of you prepare yourselves as the doors open and multiple heads turn around awaiting your arrival. taking a deep breath, you and miguel take your first steps.

while walking down the aisle with linked arms and the small bouquet of flowers in your free hand, suddenly everything feels like in slow motion as your mind begins playing tricks on you. your imagination takes you to where you are expect you’re walking down the aisle in your own wedding dress, your dad by your side and miguel standing at the altar. it was your own wedding. a dream you never imagined before. sure, you loved miguel and wanted to be in a long relationship with him. marriage seemed a bit serious since the relationship was still fresh at the time. however, marrying miguel in fact seemed like a dream, if only things were different and you didn’t hate his guts and he wouldn’t have abandoned you.

you snap out of that dream as soon you and miguel approach the altar. you don’t hesitate to unlink your arm from his and walk to the bride’s side, making miguel frown briefly before heading to the groom’s side. once everyone was in position and peter joins, the wedding theme song begins and everyone rises from their seats awaiting the bride’s arrival.

once mary jane arrives and joins peter at the altar, the ceremony begins. as you watch your friends exchange their vows with tearful eyes of happiness, miguel’s eyes never tore away from you.

although it’s shitty of him to not pay attention to the wedding, especially his friend getting married, miguel is solely focused on you. those brown eyes solemnly looking at you the entire time. the longer he stares, the more he drowns himself in guilt. admiring you in front of an altar triggers his imagination in a painful way. miguel envisions his own wedding, dressed in a similar tux, you in your own wedding gown, you two getting married instead. the vision was too emotional, causing a thin layer of tears in his eyes that he quickly blinks away.

the only time his eyes tear away from you is when peter and mj finally kiss as husband and wife, offering a small smile of happiness before looking back at you, watching you cheer and clap.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the reception was quite nice. everyone savoring the delicious food from the amazing caterers and drowning themselves in wine and other drinks. classic hit songs blasting through the speakers, children running around chasing one another, everyone seems to be happy and enjoying themselves. the newlyweds smiling at each other as they dine as husband and wife for the first time. giggling as mary jane fails to attempt giving peter a piece of cake which gets smeared over his mouth.

you sit with at a separate table with lyla and anne along with relatives of mary jane. tons of gossip and compliments about the newlyweds over wine. sadly, you can’t participate in the wine party due to the baby but honestly you don’t care much. the food was what you were looking forward to and damn it’s delicious. your baby likes it too.

while you dine and gossip with your friends, miguel observes from afar. throughout the reception, his eyes remain locked on you. every time you smile or laugh, his heart flutters. watching you so happy and being yourself is a sight miguel misses a lot. his mind flashes back to the times you were smiling and laughing at him when you were together. those cute, sweet moments just you and him. utterly in love and had nothing to care about but each other. he misses the way he used to make you laugh or smile. seeing and making you happy was his goal. the way your pretty lips curl up showing off that beautiful smile. the angelic sound of your laughter blessing his ears.

expect you weren’t smiling and laughing at him, your friends get the privilege to witness that, not him. the guilt and sadness returns, smacking him in the face. miguel lost that privilege and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get it back. watching you being so happy not only makes his heart flutter but also ache with immense guilt. he isn’t the one making you happy, other people are. he’s the one making you angry and upset.

the guilt was stressing himself out that miguel excuses himself to head to the restroom. the last thing he needs is more tears of guilt, especially at his own friend’s wedding. he just needs to clean himself up and try not be a sulking bastard.

rising from your seat, you plan to get more food despite your friend’s protests saying they would do it for you but you heavily insist you’re fine. as you select your food from the caterers, your shoulder accidentally collides with someone else’s.

“oh shit, i’m so sorry!”

“ah that’s alright.”

a deep, rich baritone voice makes you look at who’s voice that belongs to. your eyes dilate immensely. a man with thick brown hair, a beard connected with compelling sideburns. goddamn he is handsome. your eyes briefly scan him up and down. he waits a simply tux yet you can tell this man is buff as hell. he is at least 6 feet tall or taller, either way he’s tall.

“i wasn’t looking where i was going, i’m sorry.” you offer him a sheepish smile.

“no damage done, sweetheart. i’m still standing.”

the endearment term makes your heart flutter, especially in that rich tone of his.

you chuckle shyly. “still, sorry about that.”

“you were caught up on food, can’t blame you.”

“yeah, it’s just that good.”

“logan howlett.” he offers his hand to shake.

you give your name as you shake his hand, noticing how warm and calloused it feels against yours.

“i saw you up there at the altar, one of the bridesmaids, huh?”

“maid of honor.”

“ah, bride’s best friend?”

you nod, softly smiling. “yep. you?”

“just a mutual friend, i know kaine, peter’s cousin.”

your eyes lighten up in surprise, partially because kaine is one of miguel’s military buddies. does logan know miguel? “oh, cool. you in the military too?”

logan shakes his head. “no, construction guy. met kaine in high school.”

“construction, huh?”

“12 years, don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

oh so he’s a construction worker, you like this man even more. your interest in him grows.

“what about you, sweetheart?” logan asks.

“journalist.”

his thick brows eyes in amusement. “oh, you like writing big fancy stories?”

you snort, shrugging. “it’s my only talent. but it doesn’t compare to building, that’s hardworking.”

“writing is hardworking too, sweetheart.” he offers a wink with a smirk, making your heart swoon.

goddamn, this man is something else. he’s making you a bashful mess with his attractive voice, the sweet nicknames, and flirtatious antics.

you have felt like this since miguel—

no, do not think about that asshole.

“you want some?” logan gestures at his glass of what appears to whiskey, seems like it.

“oh i wish but this one won’t let me.” you glance down at your pregnancy belly and place a hand on it.

logan’s eyes follow yours and widen slightly in surprise at the visible tiny baby bump. “oh, definitely can’t. congratulations, though.”

you softly chuckle. “thanks.”

he glances back at your hand and takes note of the absence of a ring wrapped around your pretty finger. his curiosity increases. “i’m gonna be bold and you can slap me all you want, you just by yourself? no boyfriend or husband?”

“yep, it’s just a sperm donor.” you lie quickly.

it would be awkward to tell logan the truth that the father is here eating and drinking just like everyone else. since you refuse to include miguel in the picture and you two are basically broken up without officially saying it, you simply believe a sperm donor is a good excuse. with this shitshow, it honestly feels like it.

logan hums, contently. “well, congrats to you both.” he gestures at your baby bump.

suddenly, it was time to dance. everyone gets with their partners and head to the dance floor. glancing around, miguel doesn’t seem to be here. perhaps he had to take a breather to get his shit together. you know he’s been watching you the entire time. you can feel his eyes on you, making your body on fire.

logan notices your somber state, making him frown slightly. his eyes follow yours to the dance floor. an idea pops up into his mind.

taking one final sip of his whiskey then setting down the glass down on the nearest surface, logan offers a hand. “dancing isn’t my thing but one chance doesn’t bite, you up for it?”

you look back at him with slightly wide eyes, a bit surprised by his offer. a man offered to dance with you at the same party miguel is. although he isn’t here at the moment, he will show up and see you dancing with another man. part of your heart still beats for him but you remind yourself the pain he caused you. besides, the idea of miguel getting jealous excites you. honestly, you don’t give a shit.

“fuck it, why not?” you shrug and take his hand, making logan smirk in amusement.

with your hand in his, logan guides you to the dance floor and join everyone else in slow dancing. his left hand takes your right and his right hand captures your waist ever so gently, making your heart flutter at the sensation. your right hand rear on his shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath the tuxedo. your bodies pressed against one another. his musky scent invades your senses, just so intoxicating.

you and logan began moving slowly, small steps side by side following the rhythm of the music. it was casual slow dancing while making small talk. logan would throw occasional flirting, making your cheeks your warm and rolling your eyes playfully. you flirt back to match his energy, increasing the tension.

finally, after getting his shit together, miguel returns from the restroom. just as he heads back to his seat along with friends, his eyes caught your figure on the dance floor, causing miguel to stop in his tracks. those thick brows furrowed in envy and confusion at the random ass man dancing with you.

who the fuck is that?

why is that fucker dancing with you?

his blood boils in envy and slight possessiveness at the sight of another man dancing you, or just you being with another man in general. an uncomfortable feeling sits heavy on his chest. suddenly his breathing intensifies, fists clenched at his sides.

that guy shouldn’t be dancing with you or have the honor to be close to you, it should be him. no another man should be allow to so close to you like that. no another man deserves to touch you.

but is miguel really deserving of that honor? especially after what he put you through.

not only is it painful to watch you with another man but also you carrying his child. seeing another man’s arms wrapped around you while his child rests peacefully in your belly. panic invades his body as miguel continues to stare solemnly at you with this random bastard. the strongest urge to storm over there and yank the bastard away from you was getting to him. however, miguel knows he can’t do anything because it isn’t right. he broke your heart, the relationship basically ended which means you’re allowed to do or be with whoever you choose.

but the sight of you with another man causes immense pain to his heart. you seem to be moving on and miguel is still trapped in everlasting guilt. this makes him panic because he’s losing you for real. he lost you the moment he left you alone but now it truly feels like he’s losing you forever.

with the possibility of losing you forever, miguel is losing you and the baby. because of his stupid behavior, he’s losing you both. his fears pushed you away into the arms of another man. it feels like you are slipping from his grasp and lost in the void forever. the dreams and hopes of you becoming a happy family is now slipping away. when he finally came back after those painful three weeks, miguel wanted to become a father and have a family. after much thinking, he decided he was ready for it. however, that possibility is now fading away.

he wants you back, he wants to be a father, he wants to have this baby with you, he wants to have a family, he wants to raise this child with you.

but it seems like an imagination now.

miguel snaps out of those panicky thoughts when logan gently pulls you closer by the waist. suddenly, his blood goes cold like ice. a scowl settles on his face as jealousy flows through his veins. his fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his own skin.

all common sense and morals fly out the window as miguel begins storming his way towards you and logan. however, before he could reach the dance floor, he collides with one of the waiters, knocking out the tray of appetizers onto the floor. the sound of steel hitting the ground causes several heads to turn, including you and logan. thankfully most of the guests were still partying and dancing.

“chingado…” miguel curses.

“hey man, what the hell?” the waiter, a scrawny looking man no taller than 6 foot.

that whiney tone triggers miguel’s already pissed off self, glaring down at the scrawny idiot with piercing eyes which makes him gulp anxiously.

“pinche huevón, watch where you’re fucking going.”

“y-you’re the w-who bumped into me! you should be the one to watch where you’re going!”

oh that was the last straw.

“mira, cabrón…” miguel yanks the waiter by the collar with harsh force, earning a few gasps from bystanders. “te calmas o te calmo porque yo—”

as miguel raises his fist and the guy begins to flinch like a coward, a firm hand stops him from doing something he will regret.

“alright, let’s clam down, shall we?” eddie comes to the rescue, firming holding miguel’s wrist.

miguel shoves off eddie’s grip and yanks back his hand, lowering it at his side then walks away, mumbling various spanish slang.

heavily sighing in frustration, you roll your eyes at the stupid argument but mainly miguel’s behavior.

“fucking idiot.” logan mutters.

you scoff. “definitely an idiot.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

finally, the reception is over and the newlyweds took off in their car to begin their honeymoon, waving goodbye to all the guests. as majority of the guests leave, you stay to help clean up. logan decides to stay a little longer to help you and also to spend more time with you in general. you can’t deny you like him. after a while and everything is cleaned up, you head to the parking lot with logan by your side.

“i don’t think i’ll do this shit again.”

you laugh at his grumpiness. “it’s not your thing, i get that. especially not with this one controlling me, this is probably the last time i’ll be able to party.” you gesture at your pregnancy belly.

logan briefly looks at your baby bump than back to your eyes, offering a very faint smile before leaning down a bit. “now you better be nice to your mom, kid. don’t give her too much trouble.”

your heart warms at the cute interaction between logan and your baby, even if they’re not fully developed yet, it’s still heartwarming.

standing at his full height, he looks back at you. “i might have not been excited to go to this since this shit ain’t my thing but meeting you was the only good thing today.”

there goes your heart skipping a beat again. “well, it was definitely nice meeting you, logan.”

“i don’t mind if we meet up again, just not at a party again, if you’re up for that?”

knowing what he’s implying, you can’t bite back a grin. “i wouldn’t mind either.”

after exchanging numbers, you bid each other farewell with light hug. before he leaves, logan insists on walking you to your car but you tell him you rode with your friends and they’re waiting for you. you two share one final smile before he leaves. while your eyes remain on him, you hear footsteps approaching.

“soooo, snuggling up with sideburns hottie?” lyla smirks, strolling up beside you.

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes, grinning.

“what? i don’t blame you, he’s hot as fuck. those sideburns are something else.”

“can’t deny that.”

“so, when’s the first date?”

your eyes widen in shock. “jesus, lyla. we literally just met, you know i’m not dating right now.”

“you didn’t exchange numbers for no reason.”

another eye roll. “just as friends, nothing else.”

“does he know that?” she raises a brow.

“yes, i told him.”

she raises her hands. “alright, alright, just saying. however, mr. asshole probably got the wrong idea.” lyla looks past you as she lowers her arms.

turning around, you find miguel observing from afar. you lock eyes for a moment, the first time since walking down the aisle earlier. you notice the jealousy written all over his face. those furrowed brows and clenched fists at his sides. you roll your eyes again before looking away, not caring anymore.

“i don’t give a shit, the asshole can watch what he had lost.” such defiance in your tone.

it’s the truth, you don’t care if miguel gets the wrong idea about you and logan. that man hurt you and deserves to watch you thrive without him.

“ooooo, i like this badass tone.” lyla smirks.

without sparing a final glance at miguel, you and lyla walk away together to join anne on the journey back home. pretending that he doesn’t exist.

miguel, on the other hand, solemnly watches you walk away with your friend just like any other moment. always watching you walk away from him, vanish from his eyes. realization hits that this may be the last time he’ll see you until who knows when. he can’t live without seeing you again yet miguel doesn’t know how to change that.

with a sad sigh, miguel turns back and walks away, carrying the guilt on his shoulders as usual.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Original Character Erotic Series

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 5

Tori allowed a day to slip by following the night of the party. Although her mind was tethered to Jude, the reason for her journey to Dubai, she needed a moment to gather her thoughts and find some clarity amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The vibrant city stretched out around her, but she felt the need to pause, breathe, and reflect.

However, the next morning, Jude woke up with a newfound determination. There was only one day left of the year, and while he didn’t care for resolutions or using the start of the calendar year to try and implement change, he refused to go into the new year existing in such an awkward space with Tori. They were so new that Jude wouldn’t call what they were amid growing pains, but he knew it was a hurdle they had to get over together if they wanted to be in each other’s lives.

He understood how daunting his life may have seemed and how sought after he was by women, but he also needed Tori to understand that it was her he wanted.

As one of the most heavily documented footballers of the current generation with a star power that only seemed to be going from strength 

to strength, women came in droves, but having options didn't mean much when there was already someone in his line of sight. 

Slipping on his sneakers, Jude stood from his seat on the edge of his plush hotel bed, grabbing his phone and wallet before stepping out of his suite. 

Letting out a breath he'd been holding, Jude made his way towards Tori’s room, his palms clammy despite the coolness of the hotel corridor. 

She'd texted him around an hour prior letting Jude know she was awake, but that had been their first interaction since the night of the party in his teammate's hotel suite. 

She’d spent the day before ignoring every call and message he sent her, only reading them before closing out of the chat. 

Although it wasn't in Jude’s intentions to hurt her, he was man enough to acknowledge how careless he'd been and as possessive and ego-driven as it may have sounded, it wasn't until he saw Tpri with Alex that he fully realized the error of his actions. 

To even see her standing beside another man made Jude’s skin crawl and adding insult to injury Alex had an arrogance about him that Jude didn't care for at all. 

With each step towards Tori's room, Jude's heart raced. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly in the quiet corridor, mirroring the internal chaos brewing within him. He thought back to the moment he recognized his feelings for her—how genuine her laughter was, how her eyes sparkled with excitement, and how she brought a sense of warmth into his otherwise chaotic life.

Reaching her door, he paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He wanted to be honest, to lay everything out on the table, but he also didn't want to come off as desperate or overbearing. He had to strike a balance between vulnerability and strength. 

Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked gently. A few moments passed, and just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing Tori. She looked beautiful, her hair tousled messy bun and her eyes slightly puffy from sleep. There was a hint of surprise etched on her face, but it quickly faded into an unreadable expression.

“Hey,” Jude said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can we talk?”

Tori hesitated but then stepped aside to let him in. The air was thick with unspoken words as he entered the room. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively over her chest as if shielding herself from whatever was about to transpire.

“I should have been more considerate of your feelings, I should have been more attentive and the last thing I want is for you to feel as if I’m just dragging you along for the ride.” Jude took a deep breath, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his emotions. 

“I know I messed up. But I also can't ignore the fact that I feel like you're holding back or anticipating me fucking up,” he continued. 

“I’m not waiting for you to fuck up, Jude I have no idea what I’m doing,” Tori attempted to explain. 

Jude took a step closer, his desire to bridge the gap between them almost palpable. “Then help me understand,” he urged, his voice softer now. “Because I want to be around you.”

Tori looked into Jude’s eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance, for something to break the tension that clung to the room like a thick fog. His sincerity was evident, yet doubt still clouded her thoughts. “The world is yours to do as you please with, the other night made me realize that and it's unfair of me to expect you to change anything about your world because I'm uncomfortable.”

They’d only known each other a few short weeks, but those weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions and unpredictability. Everything that had happened between them thus far has stemmed from impulse and raw attraction to one another, but eventually, they had to be real with themselves and for Tori; this was that. 

“I get that, Tori,” Jude replied, his voice steady despite internally trying to keep his frustration at bay. “But just because I can do something doesn't mean I will, I have self-control.” 

“I never said you didn't,” Tori shot back, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. 

“That’s what it feels like you're getting at.” Jude leaned in slightly, trying to gauge her reaction. “You’re implying that my lifestyle somehow dictates what I should want, or who I should be. But that's not the case, not with you. I need you to see that.” 

The charged atmosphere hung between them, heavy with expectation. Tori took a deep breath, the fight in her eyes softening momentarily as she considered his words. “I just don’t want to end up being another woman in your life, Jude. I want to matter to you—not just because I’m a different kind of distraction.” 

Jude shook his head firmly, his expression earnest. “You already do matter to me. You’re not a distraction. Being with you feels real, and that’s what terrifies me and excites me all at once. I want to make this work, but I need you to meet me halfway.” 

Tori dropped her arms, the defensiveness slowly peeling away. The vulnerability in Jude's eyes tugged at her heart. She could feel the sincerity of his desire, how he was trying to carve out a space for both of them amidst a storm of external pressures. 

“Halfway…” she murmured, the thought lingering in the air. 

“Yes,” he urged. “Let’s be honest with each other. I won’t pretend that it’s easy for either of us, especially with my world. But if you’re willing to try then I'm here.”

Tori felt a knot in her stomach loosen just a bit with Jude's words. They felt genuine, the kind of honesty that could either lead to something beautiful—or something painful. But she wanted to lay down her fears, to strip away the layers of uncertainty that had built up between them. “I want to try too,” she said finally, her voice steadying. “But I need you to understand where I’m coming from. I can’t just dive in without knowing if we’re on the same page.” 

Jude nodded, his expression softening. “Tell me what you need to know.” 

Taking a deep breath, Tori plunged into vulnerability, the words tumbling out. “I just need you to see with me. I'm not asking for constant reassurance, I just want to know that we’re exploring this together, to understand what we both want.”

Jude took a moment to process her words, his heart swelling with the weight of her honesty. “Tori, I want you,” he said firmly.

“If by chance that changes, please just—” Before Tori could complete her thought, Jude swiftly moved forward, enveloping her in his embrace. His arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her close as his lips crashed against hers, the intensity of the kiss catching her off guard. It was a fierce, passionate connection, igniting a spark that surged between them.

Tori felt herself melt into Jude, losing track of the worries that had weighed so heavily on her mind just moments before. The kiss was all-consuming, filling the room with a warmth that pushed away all thoughts of uncertainty. She could taste the determination in his kiss, the promise of sincerity that lingered in the air around them.

As they pulled apart slightly, she could feel Jude's heart beating against her chest, a rhythm that matched the unrest of emotions swirling within her. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, searching her expression for any sign of hesitation. 

“I won't change my world, Tori,” he said quietly, his voice just above a whisper, “but I want to invite you into it. I need you to trust me.”

Tori nodded slowly, grappling with the flood of emotions rushing through her. Fear, exhilaration, longing—it was all entangled within her, but she found solace in Jude's presence. “I want to trust you, Jude,” she admitted, looking up at him, “I just need to know that you see me.”

He stepped back slightly but kept his hands on her arms, grounding her. “I see you,” he insisted, his voice sincere.

“Then can you kiss me again?” Jude's lips curled into a smirk, a playful glint sparking in his eyes at her request. He took a step closer again, his grip on her arms tightening just a fraction before he gently tilted her chin up. The air between them felt electric, charged with an undeniable chemistry that had been simmering since they first met.

“Are you sure?” he teased, though the sincerity in his tone was evident. He wanted to ensure that she was ready for whatever this connection could bring—because he certainly was.

With a soft breath, Tori nodded, her heart racing in anticipation. The nervousness in her stomach began to dissipate, replaced with an exhilarating rush that accompanied Jude’s every movement. He leaned closer, his breath warming her skin, and then his lips met hers once more in a slow, deliberate kiss.

It started gentle, a tentative exploration, a soft brush of lips that spoke of longing. But as the kiss deepened, it morphed into something more urgent and impassioned. Jude’s hands found their way to her waist, lifting her so he could carry her over to the bed. 

Tori couldn't help but giggle as Jude positioned himself above her, his strong hands framing her face. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin, and gently captured the delicate curve of her neck between his teeth, sending a shiver down her spine. The playful intimacy of the moment filled the air with a charged tension that made her heart race.

“All I want is to make you smile,” Jude murmured against her skin, his right hand moving from beside her head to grip her hip holding her in place. 

“I think you do a good job most of the time,” Tori smirked, reaching up to run her fingers through Jude’s coils as she looked into his eyes. 

“Most of the time?” he repeated in mock offence. 

“Most of the time,” Tori confirmed. “For example when you're at parties receiving lap dances, I'm not too hot on you,” she said, making Jude frown playfully before pushing his face back into the crease of her neck. 

“Okay, I deserve that one,” Jude admitted, his voice muffled against her skin. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “But, can I make you moan?” he asked, a playful challenge dancing in his eyes.

Tori's breath hitched, her heart racing at the sudden turn of the conversation. The boldness in his question sent heat pooling in her stomach, igniting an undeniable desire within her. She met his gaze, searching for sincerity among the playful banter, and found it. Jude wasn’t just teasing; he genuinely wanted to know.

“Depends on how you plan to do it,” she shot back, teasingly raising an eyebrow, her confidence blossoming in the aftermath of their heightened emotions.

“I want to taste you,” Jude whispered hotly into her ear. 

“Is that so?” she replied, her voice sultry, laced with intrigue as she arched an eyebrow, daring him to make his move. 

“Absolutely,” Jude affirmed, his confidence unwavering. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, his body pressing closer to hers. “Let me show you how I plan to make you moan.”

With that, he trailed his lips down the side of her neck, savouring the taste of her skin as his hand reached between them to pull apart her robe, cupping her breast. Tori gasped, every nerve in her body igniting under his caress. The sensation was rousing, the promise of what was to come sending spirals of desire coursing through her.

“Jude,” she breathed the warmth of his mouth on her skin, sending a tingle down her spine. 

“Relax,” he breathed out, his lips and tongue continuing their exploration, trailing lower, sending waves of pleasure shooting through her. His fingers danced over her soft skin, igniting a fire that made her pulse quicken.

“Just let me enjoy you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her as he settled between her legs, raising her left leg to come and rest over her shoulder so she lay completely exposed to him, the space around them fading into a blur of colour and sound, leaving only the two of them.

Tori let out a breathless moan as Jude pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her pussy, groaning as he got his first taste of her on his tongue. 

The sensation rocked through Tori like a bolt of lightning, her body instinctively responding to the warmth and pressure of his mouth. She gasped as he explored her with slow, deliberate movements, his tongue dancing over her sensitive folds, teasing her in a way that made her forget everything else around them.

Jude’s eyes flicked up to meet with hers as she felt his lips spread into a smile against her before he went to work on her.

Tori’s hand reached up to cover her mouth as a means of silencing her moans as Jude feasted on her pussy, his skin slippery against hers from a combination of his saliva and her arousal. 

The sounds that came from his ministrations were lewd, he sucked and slurped on Tori as her back arched from the bed completely intoxicated by her. 

Her senses were overwhelmed, the way Jude's mouth moved with expert preciseness sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. The air was electric with tension, the intensity of their connection radiating like a wildfire, each gasp she stifled only fueling the fire within. As her breath hitched, her fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him closer, craving more of the intoxicating sensations he created. Every flick of his tongue sent her spiralling deeper into ecstasy, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared, lost in a world of indulgent pleasure.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” Jude groaned, leaning back a little to make room so he could use his thumbs to spread her open, gathering saliva on the end of his tongue before allowing it to drip from his mouth onto her. 

Tori gasped softly at the improper compliment, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks and spreading lower, intensifying the throbbing ache between her thighs.

"Take it," she managed to murmur, her voice breathy and laced with desire.

As if to emphasize her point, Tori's hips tilted upward, offering herself to him more fully. The cool air kissed her damp folds, a stark contrast to the burning heat of Jude's gaze as he took in the sight of her splayed out before him.

"Please," she whimpered, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it. Her fingers tightened in his hair, not quite demanding, but urging him to continue.

At that moment, Tori felt wild, uninhibited, and completely surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body as she watched Jude stand from the bed to remove his clothes before grabbing his wallet and retrieving a condom from it.

“I want you inside of me,” Tori's eyes fluttered open, meeting Jude's gaze with an intensity that stole his breath away. "Please Jude," she whispered, her voice rough with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

She reached for him, her fingers trailing down his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You’re so beautiful," she murmured, her voice slightly deepening with desire.

Tori's hips lifted off the bed, a silent invitation, an offering of her body and soul. Her legs spread wider, a clear display of her readiness, her need for him.

"Take me," she breathed, the words both a plea and a command. "Make me yours."

In that moment, Tori was lost to everything except the fire burning within her, the aching void that only Jude could fill. She needed him with an intensity that consumed her, obliterating any remnants of doubt or hesitation.

Crawling on top of her petite and slender, yet dangerously curvaceous body Jude led with his tongue as parted her lips so she could taste herself. 

As Jude's tongue parted Tori's lips, she moaned softly, the taste of her own arousal mingling with the unique flavour of Jude. It was a heady combination, one that sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through her body.

Tori's arms wrapped around Jude's neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue danced with his, exploring every inch of his mouth with a fervour that matched the intensity of their earlier passion.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Tori arched her back, pressing her body flush against Jude's. She could feel every contour of his muscular frame, the hard planes of his chest rubbing against the soft swells of her breasts.

The friction of their bodies moving together stoked the fire within Tori, her skin tingling with anticipation. She needed more, craved the feel of Jude's hands on her body, his touch igniting a trail of sparks wherever he caressed her.

Their bodies undulated together, a sensual dance fueled by primal need. Tori's hands explored Jude's back, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, marvelling at the strength that lay beneath his skin.

Jude groaned against her lips, the sound muffled by their kiss. His hands roamed her body, skimming over the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips, before coming to rest on the soft curves of her ass. 

With a firm squeeze, Jude lifted Tori's hips, angling them so that he could slide into her with one smooth thrust. The sensation was indescribable, a perfect reunion of flesh on flesh that left them both gasping for breath.

“Tori, you feel fucking perfect,” Jude groaned into the crease of her neck, his hand slipping from her to wrap around her thighs and pin her to the bed beneath him. 

Jude had never considered himself a man with sadistic tendencies, but where sex with Tori was concerned; she possessed an innocence he wanted to ruin and protect all at once. 

She was so submissive to pleasure, both giving and receiving and all he wanted to do was explore that—explore her. 

Tori's body arched into Jude's touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on painful in its intensity, yet Tori welcomed it, craving more.

"Ah!" Tori let out a throaty cry as Jude slammed deep into her, the sudden fullness stealing her breath. "God, yes! Fuck me harder, Jude!"

Tori's nails raked down Jude's back, her fingers digging into his skin as she urged him on. Her hips bucked against his, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervour, driving them both closer to the brink of ecstasy. 

"You're so fucking tight," Jude grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "So good, baby." Tori's head fell back against the pillows, her dark hair fanning out around her like a halo.

“Get on top, I want to watch your beautiful little body while you ride me,” Jude continued, raising his head so he could look into her eyes. 

Tori hesitated, her eyes widening slightly at his request for a change in position. She wasn't used to taking the lead in the bedroom, preferring to let him guide her. 

But there was something about Jude's command, the way he looked at her with such raw desire, that made her want to please him, to give him exactly what he wanted.

Slowly, carefully, Tori manoeuvred herself into a straddling position, her knees on either side of Jude's hips. She could feel the heat of his body, the hard length of him pressing against her core, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

As Tori lowered herself onto Jude's cock, she couldn't help but moan softly at the sensation of being filled, stretched, and consumed by him. Her walls clenched around him as if trying to keep him inside her, never to let him go.

Tori’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, her eyes locking with Jude’s as he raised his hips beneath her, the head of his cock kissing firmly against her cervix. 

A rush of sensations flooded Tori’s body, the fullness igniting every nerve ending as she gasped at the invasive, yet welcomed pressure. Jude’s intense gaze held hers captive, the heat of his desire reflecting back at her like flames in a hearth. 

“Fuck, you feel unbelievable,” he rasped, thrusting gently as he pushed deeper, each subtle movement sending electric jolts of pleasure cascading through her. Tori arched her back, her hard nipples brushing against his chest, intuitively wanting more of him, more of this exquisite connection.

“More,” she urged, her voice barely a whisper, heavy with longing. “Please, Jude... I need it.”

A predacious grin spread across his face, and without a moment’s hesitation, he complied. Placing a hand on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his. 

With a powerful roll of his hips, Jude drove deeper, claiming her in a way that turned her breath into a string of frantic gasps. The rhythmic motion filled the space between them with an intoxicating harmony that made her pulse race. Tori’s body melted against his, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that rippled through her, echoing with each thrust.

“Jude, you're so deep,” she moaned, her voice weak with desire as the sensation overwhelmed her. It felt as if he were reaching into her very soul, each movement igniting a fire that blazed hotter with every stroke.

“Look at me,” he growled his words lacking in diction as his hand on the back of her neck came to wrap around her throat, easing her body to sit up some so he could look into her eyes as he rounded his hips into Tori, fucking her incredibly deep. 

Tori’s heart raced, the combination of his grip and his commanding gaze sending shivers of exhilaration down her spine. She loved this side of him, the way he took charge, the way his need matched her own. The space around them faded, leaving only the two of them tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire.

“Jude…” she breathed, her voice trembling as she leaned into his touch, craving both his possession and his passion. The intensity of his stare felt almost tangible, wrapping around her and binding them in this moment of unadulterated pleasure.

“Tell me how it feels,” he urged, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins.

It took Tori a moment to gather her thoughts, to articulate the overwhelming sensations crashing through her. “It’s... so much,” she managed, her breath hitching as he ground deeper inside her, every thrust perfectly timed to lift her closer to the edge. “It’s everything, Jude. Just—just don’t stop.”

His eyes burned with a mix of ownership and satisfaction, and he revelled in her response as if her words were his own personal high. He adjusted his angle, hitting a spot that sent a wave of pleasure washing over her, causing her to arch into him. 

“Don’t ever second guess how fucking perfect you are,” Jude growled, his voice deep and resonant, filled with raw need. He intensified his pace, each thrust resonating through her as he delved deeper, pushing her closer to the brink. The heat between them crackled, an electric current that sparked at every point of contact, igniting every sense.

Tori’s breath quickened, each inhaling a desperate gasp for air as if the sheer force of their connection threatened to overwhelm her lungs. 

“Oh god, Jude… yes,” she cried, her back arching further, urging him on. It was as if his every touch had created a symphony within her—a melody of pleasure that coursed through her veins, building to a crescendo that she could almost taste.

“Feel how much I want you,” Jude painted, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice as he quickened the rhythm. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every contour, as though he wanted to memorize her completely.

Finally settling his hands on her hips as he bit down on his bottom lip, Jude’s brow furrowed as his gaze fixed on Tori's glossy brown eyes as she gave herself to him. 

The connection between them deepened with every thrust, a magnetic pull that transcended the physical realm. Tori felt exhilarated and vulnerable all at once, ensnared in a dance of ecstasy that made her skin tingle and her heart race. Jude’s gaze burned into her, the depth of his desire setting her aflame from within.

“You’re everything I want,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he quickened his rhythm, driving them both higher.

As Tori’s eyelids heavy with lust slid shut, she felt a singular tear of unadulterated pleasure roll down her cheek, a physical testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. Every thrust from Jude felt like a promise, each powerful movement igniting more than just her body; it deepened their bond, drawing them closer together as though they were the only two souls in existence.

“Jude,” she gasped, opening her eyes to meet him once more, searching for some kind of guidance. Her body was his, even if only for the moment. 

“Let go,” he urged, his voice a heated whisper as he captured her gaze, anchoring her in the depth of their connection. Tori felt as if he was unravelling her from the inside out, his words wrapping around her heart like a warm embrace. The trust between them intensified the experience, elevating every sensation beyond the physical.

“Just you and me,” he said, his breath heavy with need. “Nothing else matters right now.” With those words, he thrust deeper, asserting that claim within her, pushing her to places she had never dreamed of reaching.

Tori managed a nod, her voice lost in the tumult of pleasure. She surrendered completely to the moment, allowing the waves of ecstasy to wash over her. The rhythm between them grew urgent, a fierce manifestation of their shared longing, building in intensity with every tide.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Jude groaned, his hands tightening possessively around her hips as he lost himself in her. The pressure building within her was electric, every pulse of pleasure drawing her closer to that swirling vortex of release. 

“Jude, I—I can’t hold on much longer,” she warned, her words whisper-soft amidst the gasps and moans echoing through the room. 

“Good,” he encouraged with a primal growl, his eyes darkened with lust. “Let it go, Tori. I want to feel you cum on me.” 

With each powerful thrust, he pushed her closer to that edge, his rhythm relentless, a beautiful pinnacle that made everything else fade into oblivion. Tori’s body responded instinctively, tightening around him as if seeking to pull him even deeper.

“Jude!” she cried out, feeling the pleasure tighten into a coil, ready to unravel. He pressed on, relentless in his pursuit, his voice a seductive growl that wrapped around her heart. 

“Just let it happen, Tori. Feel all of me,” he coached his hands firmly gripping her hips as he tilted his hips into her, making sure she felt every last pulsing inch.

The intensity of their connection reached a fever pitch, each thrust adding fuel to the fires that roared within her. Tori could feel the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over her, a tsunami she couldn’t hope to hold back any longer. Every nerve in her body tingled with need, each pulse syncopated with Jude’s movement, forging a bond between them.

“Just like that!” she gasped, her words melting into moans, expressing the bliss that swelled within her. Every inch of her became attuned to his rhythm, and she relished the dance of their bodies—the slick sliding sensation that came with each thrust, their shared breaths mingling in the charged air.

Tori’s fingers tangled in his hair as she leaned forward, wanting to feel every part of him pressing against her. “I’m so close,” she confessed, her voice breathless and laced with desperation. The heat radiating from his body set her ablaze, igniting a fire that refused to be quenched.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, his voice raw with desire, pushing her to the brink. His hands gripped her tighter, anchoring her as he thrust deep, each movement driving her closer to the edge she was so desperately in pursuit of.

Tori's body quaked above him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. She could barely string words together, lost in the depths of her pleasure. “Jude, I can’t… I—”

“Give it to me,” he urged, his strained as he felt his end nearing. “Please, Tori.” The desperation in his voice pushed her over the edge, that insistent tone igniting the last spark of her restraint.  

With one final thrust, Jude buried himself deep inside her, and Tori felt the world swirl around her. The coil of pleasure snapped, sending shockwaves coursing through her body as her orgasm shattered every thought, every worry, leaving only raw ecstasy in its wake. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, overwhelming her senses, and she forgot everything except the intoxicating rhythm of their bodies entwined.

“Jude!” She cried out, her voice hoarse as she let herself fall into that abyss of pleasure, riding the crest of the wave as it crashed over her. Every muscle in her body tightened, and she felt herself pulsing around him, tightening and pulsing in the throes of her release.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his own body responding instinctively to the feel of her climax. With each tightening clench of her walls around him, Jude lost himself completely, the warmth of her body drawing him into a well of bliss. 

He felt his release building, the intensity of her orgasm pushing him over the edge. “I’m right there with you,” he groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Tori locked her gaze on his, their breaths mingling as they rode the waves together. The connection between them deepened with each pulse, each beat of their hearts echoing in time. 

“Jude!” she gasped, as another wave washed over her, pulling him along in its wake, and then, as if their bodies were synchronized, he delved deep into her, stilling as he poured himself into the condom he wore. 

“Fuck, Tori!” he cried out, the sensation of her wrapping around him perfectly driving him over the edge as his cock filled her completely.

As the remains of their orgasms gradually faded, Tori collapsed against Jude, panting against his chest, both of them lost in a cocoon of warmth and satisfaction. Her heart raced, still thumping with remnants of pleasure as she felt Jude’s arms wrap around her, holding her close.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Tori began to regain consciousness of her surroundings, the warm afterglow of their passion enveloping her like a cozy blanket. The city outside was bustling with life, but inside the room, time felt suspended, a private moment shared between just the two of them. Tori would have been content to lie there forever, nestled against him, but a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her. 

Jude, sensing her shift in mood, tightened his grip around her. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly, his voice low as he stroked her hair, pulling her even closer. 

“Not much,” she mumbled, nestling deeper against the warmth of his chest. The contentment surrounding them was intoxicating, even as a flicker of reality started to seep back in. 

“I was thinking about taking you shopping today,” Jude suggested, a teasing lilt in his voice, his fingers gently grazing back and forth over the small of her back. “I want to spoil you a little.”

“Spoil me?” she asked teasingly, tilting her head to look up at him.

“Yes,” he replied, a charming grin spreading across his face. “So you can get dressed up for me tonight while we bring in the New Year.”

Not only was it a chance to spoil her and in turn feed his ego, but there was also something about the act, the quality time spent that seemed rather intimate to him. 

“What would you like to see me in?” Tori asked with a smirk as she sat up, her breast round and perky as she straddled Jude’s lap. 

Jude's gaze darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her sitting on him, her body radiating confidence and allure. “Honestly? I like you in absolutely nothing, but a dress would be more fitting considering our plans for tonight,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

Tori felt her cheeks flush at his words, the compliment igniting a warmth within her. “What are our plans for tonight?” she asked, her breath deepening as Jude’s hands came to rest on her hips. 

“Dinner and then a New Year's Eve party at the marina,” he explained, his dark eyes locking onto hers, filled with anticipation. “And you have my word no lap dances will be taking place,” he smirked, earning a laugh and playful punch to the bicep from Tori. 

When they finally pulled themselves from the bed, Tori made her way into the bathroom to get ready as Jude went to leave her hotel room and head back to his own. 

As he pulled open the door of Tori’s room, he noticed Alex walking towards him, dressed in a suit similar to the one he wore the night of the party when he comforted Tori. 

Instead of saying anything, Jude offered Alex a knowing smirk, his body still humming for the passionate encounter he just had with Victoria. 

Making his way back to his room, Jude changed clothes and alerted his security guard of his plans to leave the hotel with Tori. 

As he dressed, Jude felt a sense of anticipation bubbling within him. The thought of taking Tori shopping, of sharing the day with her, filled him with excitement. He couldn't wait to see her in something stunning for the New Year’s Eve party, something that would make her stand out and remind everyone—especially Alex—who she belonged to.

Once he was ready, Jude stepped out of his suite and made his way down the corridor to Tori's room. He knocked, his heart racing again at the thought of seeing her. The door swung open, and Tori stood there, looking radiant despite the casual outfit she wore. A fitted black top hugged her frame, paired with high-waisted jeans that accentuated her curves perfectly.

“Tori,” Jude spoke up, his voice laced with genuine admiration. “You look incredible.”

Tori smiled shyly, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Thanks. I figured I’d keep it simple for shopping,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Simple? You look anything but,” Jude replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “Come here,” he instructed. 

Tori’s heart fluttered at the command in his voice, and she took a small step toward him, curiosity lighting up her eyes. Jude reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. 

Tori’s breath hitched in her throat as Jude pressed a kiss against her plump lips, his hands slipping down to caress her backside as he walked her backwards into the nearest wall. 

His mouth moved against hers with a hot intensity, igniting a fire within Tori that she couldn’t ignore. She thawed into him, her body responding instinctively as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth. 

“We need to leave or I'm going to end up fucking the shit out of you in this entryway,” Jude groaned against her lips, a teasing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Tori couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the previous days melting away in this moment of intimacy.

“Then we should hurry,” she replied, her voice playful, yet filled with a thrill of excitement. She stepped back, breaking the embrace just enough to catch her breath and regain her composure. Looking into Jude's eyes, she felt an undeniable connection, one that made her heart race and her stomach flutter.

Jude gave her a lopsided grin, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Shopping first, party later.”

Tori grinned, her excitement bubbling to the surface as she took Jude's hand, guiding him toward the door. “Lead the way then,” she said, her voice playful.

[radmullethaver]

i was never really a big porn watcher at any point, but i quickly noticed that even on like the first page the mainstream stuff would use really violent language. Think “pound”, “destroy”, etc and the actual footage would be just very visually intense just clearly very rough sex. Now i will admit i don’t know the full extent of how much the porn industry impacts women on a physical level. However, having that kind of sex all the time, with someone you probably met recently if not that day, and being dependent on being able to physically complete that act cannot be good for either your body or your mental health over time.

I admit i struggle with painful penetration so i may be slightly biased when i say this but it’s gotta be painful. I’m sure it’s very hard to actually be aroused because there’s probably at least a camera man if not an entire team of people around being in charge of things like sound, lighting, etc which can’t help. There’s also the fact that the porn industry in general has always been obsessed with very large penises so there’s another challenge.

My point is is that outside of the emotional aspect and the introduction of kink, i feel like with the increase in popularity of very rough sex, not only does one need emotional “aftercare” one might need physical “aftercare”. The fact that’s it’s needed at all is terrible, and porn is largely to blame.

For anyone who needs to hear it

PENETRATIVE SEX SHOULD NOT HURT

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 5

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability, mentions for Rafayel stories, and myths, violent imagery and arguments.

Word Count: 5456

Written: 9th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. Rafayel is so hard to write for a lot of reasons, but also is one of my favourite characters in any story because he's just... contains multitudes. I also feel like he's the one who struggles most with all these other people in MC's life. I also feel like he's so fixated on pain, and struggle, that he forgets kindness can be offered to him with no price. Anyway, I enjoyed working on this bit a lot even though it was hard. Enjoy! Also as a side note, the song of choice I can only partially explain, Rafayel out of all the boys makes me think of regency romance on a level I truly cannot explain. (even though he doesn't have a dancing scene... YET!!)

Now Playing: All I Want, by Kris Bowers

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous

Rafayel loves you. That is never in doubt. He finds himself bitter and aching that there is so much you have shared that only he remembers.

Sometimes it comes out in harsh words or lies. Even though he knows it is unfair to punish you, when you can't control it.

Mostly, however, he tries to enjoy moments with you. Hoping that something will spark, and you will look at him and see long years of history.

Remember his longing and his love in all its forms.

Remember all the facets that make him up. Perhaps it's cowardice to want your memories to fill in the blanks that he is too scared to tell you. Blood on his hands, heart offered up. He does not want to see your expression change. For you to fear or hate who he is… who he can become.

He thinks about beautiful blue seas, and the breath stolen underwater.

When he finds himself thinking of the beach he waited at, every year, he pushes himself into his work.

Now, he spends most of his days at your side. In case you need him. He watches closely, because he's used to you hiding your struggle from him. When you're sick, you've hidden it, he's reminded you that you're not a superhero. As much as you put on a brave front for every kid that sees your hunter reels.

Rafayel has watched this version of you for a long time, before he finally met you again. Properly.

He has seen so many renditions of you, no matter who you have been… he has loved you. He has and will love you for eternity and beyond, even if it might be easier not to.

Rafayel has finished most of his work for his exhibit, as he stares at the final piece that is missing something that he cannot find.

Sun blends with sea, as the tides recede. As silver bones are left behind to bleach.

He stares and stares and nothing comes. Just that vague, irritating feeling of incompletion.

"You're going to burn a hole in it, fish."

"Sylus, leave the man alone, he's actually working."

Rafayel huffs… and therein lies his other problem. Your consortium of bizarre attachments. If he were less observant, he could pretend they see you as a friend only.

But he is a man who can kill another, who can plan his revenge, who can hide in plain sight. Who is capable of sneaking up even on the N109 Zone Leader.

So he can see and he can't ignore. He also can't ignore that they comfort you as well.

You have teased him for being childish, and he thinks the irritating feeling in his gut, that demands he steal all of your time, that you are his bonded partner, confirms such a claim. He is not possessive of a lot… your heart is his.

He tries to ignore the doctor and the crow. Staring straight ahead, hoping that answers will come to him, but he cannot. He can feel their presence and it is on the edge of his consciousness. Poking at it.

Like he is a crab on the beach and a child wants to watch his pincers clasp.

"Maybe you should take a walk, get some fresh air."

"Do you want the fish to suffocate, Doctor?"

"Truly, you are incapable of not prodding at others aren't you?"

He huffs this time, turning his face to look at the two. Zayne is typing on his laptop, barely looking up to converse, while Sylus is on his tablet, glasses on the end of his nose.

The two look eerily similar like this.

Rafayel tries not to compare the doctor to the crow, it's unflattering. At least the doctor can heal your wounds.

When he speaks though, his irritation comes out in the snippy tone he takes, "Your opinions are noted, dumb crow. Then swiftly discarded."

The man does that irritating little laugh he does, that is more a puff of air than a real laugh. Like it's too much effort to feel anything, and Rafayel wants to pluck his feathers.

How you can tolerate him, he'll never know.

At least the hunter is quiet…

Still, he wants to get out of here, they make it harder for him to think, and he can't make progress like this. So he stands, shrugging at them and heads towards the door, as he goes to make through he almost collides with you and Xavier returning from the hospital. He isn't surprised when you move out the way just in time, you're a hunter and your training has made you capable. Still as he greets you, you hesitate, before tugging at his shirt before he can leave.

He looks down, your hand holding onto the fabric, not tough enough to tear, but enough to halt his movements.

"Are you alright, Raffy?" 

It shouldn't surprise him that you notice the tick in his jaw, or the stress under his skin. It isn't the first time, and you've shown many times to have been able to pick out when his mood has dropped. You're observant as part of being a hunter, you're careful, you pay attention. You're smart.

You care.

About him, about his mood… about his life. His irritation settles, soothes at the edges, and his smile is easier, "I need some fresh air. Want to come with?"

You hesitate and he watches the fear enter your eyes. Wavering. You walk between the hospital and the apartment when you don't take Zayne's car, but that's the extent of your journeys. He wants to pull you by the hand… make you see the sea with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Whitesands."

It's far enough removed, very few people visit it, and he will get a walk somewhere familiar. Perhaps it's familiar enough for you to follow him.

He extends his hand, carefully, trying to keep the need from bubbling to the surface. If he could take you away far from here, he would. Take you to everything he's ever seen, so he can see it with new eyes. Yours.

Your hand stretches out, and your fingers tremble, before you finally take his, "Alright, if it's quiet." Your request is one he'll happily grant. Both of you alone, he can't think of a better way to spend his time.

The walk is kind to him, as they head towards Whitesand Bay, he gets to keep your hand in his, listen to the song of the world, and watch as your steps become lighter. You stop staring down at your arm and checking around you, eventually focusing on the sky and him.

As feet crunch on white sand, and approach the edge of tides. You let go of his hand to walk a little further out, and he watches. As you crouch, as you reach fingers to the water.

Rafayel paints everything he thinks is beautiful, tragic, or brings pain to his soul. You hurt him too, in ways he aches for. Like he is placing his hand in a burning flame, and holding it there, because the longer he holds it, the closer he gets to what he craves.

Like there is an answer there, waiting over the edge of agony. If he tumbles after it, he'll find what eludes him.

There's a feeling in him that wants to drown you with him. He could swim out, with you in his arms, and pull you under. On the edge of the question of life, before he gives you the means to breathe alongside him. He's warned you of the nature of sirens, and you've looked him in the eye and told him you don't fear him.

You should, though, he knows. You should fear the ocean's grasp as well as his own, because he wants your heart for his.

As you turn your eyes back to him, soft smile tugging the scar on your face, his heart thunders and then stills. Flames and agony. The need to touch and hold it in his hand… Lit against the contours of your face, and the glimmer in your eyes.

His inspiration is always closer than he thinks.

—-----

Rafayel dislikes your companions.

The prince gets to spend all of his time with you, working together, protecting each other. Where Rafayel had to convince you to be his bodyguard, just for a fraction of that time.

The doctor is who you trust with your injuries and your wounds, he is who you go to when something hurts. You hid your sickness from Rafayel before now, so he didn't doubt your capabilities.

The crow… the crow gets under his scales. Like a tick. Biting and bleeding and ruining his skin. Yet you trust him, a man who built all his life on violence. Who has blood on his hands. Who is open about his sins… While he cannot tell you for fear of the look in your eye changing.

It is safe to say the crow is his least favourite. The one who grinds at him most, who plucks and pulls. Like a hook in his upper lip. He dreams of drowning the man… he would if the look in your eyes didn't stop him.

So he hates them, he thinks. The anger and irritation and the childish petulance. He wants your attention and he fights for it, he wants you to trust him most. It took too long to gain entrance into your home, reminding himself that time builds strong bonds. That he should be patient. He did not want to scare you, to startle you. Like you are a small fish and he is a bigger… hungrier beast.

There is no peace when they are around, and normally pain brings him inspiration, an answer on the end of a paintbrush. A vision in the agony.

Whatever feeling they inspire is not pain, and it brings him no art to create, no feelings to share in blues and greens. Nothing to show for it.

He has thankfully, however, finished his final piece. So there is a relief in him, even as the crow looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

Rafayel ignores the man, looking straight ahead, signing his work. Paintbrush steady. Steadier than the racing heart in his chest.

He will not lose a game of chicken with an overgrown bird.

So when the crow turns to walk away, he is relieved, and so smug, until he hears a crunch. Looking over quickly, and staring down at the floor.

"Ah, what a shame."

One of Rafayel's paintbrushes snapped in half by the stupid crow's foot.

He levels a glare at the man, "Are stupid crows clumsy too?"

"Are all fish messy? Your things have spread across the apartment."

"I'm working!"

"Quite diligently I see, despite galavanting off to the beach. Inspiration was it?"

The look on the crow's face is too level. It's too calm. He does not respond to the rise of Rafayel's voice. He does not flinch at the glare in his eyes. He does not move, from where his foot is still on his brush.

It is a feeling of irritation that burns and scorches where it stands.

He has to tolerate and bite his tongue. He has to think and be careful. He has to share, where he does not want to share.

You are his heart, why does he have to look at the eyesore in his vision, and think about his hands on you too.

His anger bubbles and froths and overflows. A pot that has been left, and forgotten. You will forget him too, in favour of a crow! A stupid. Foolish. Irritating crow.

He stands and presses forwards, fangs bared and sharp. He is a predator of the seas. This man is nothing. He is a god of the tides. This man is a petty criminal.

Rafayel knows you better, he has seen more incarnations than this man can even comprehend, and he dares to play at favour?

"If you wish to be drowned, crow, I am happy to oblige."

Eyebrow quirks at him, a look in his eyes that Rafayel can't make out, but it glitters and twinkles, "I'd love to see you try, fish, but I'm afraid you couldn't hope to kill me."

"I am more than willing to try."

"Then you'll simply be hurting your 'beloved bride', wouldn't you?"

He snarls, a low noise in the back of his throat, hand reaching out to grab at the man's throat. To snap it, bite through it, to cut his voice permanently, he isn't sure. It will hurt, and he will deserve it. For calling you what he cannot. Too many memories that you cannot hold in your heart.

The crow steps forwards, as if daring him to try. To wrap his hands around his throat and twist. To slice his throat open with a dagger. To see. To show him if it's true.

"Raffy?" Your call comes from the side, stumbling in, voice wary.

His hand hovers, he debates. Thinks for a moment. Stares at the crow's adam apple as the man swallows his laughter down. The dare is there, waiting for him to take… and they both know he won't.

So he rips his hand back, offers you the kind of smile that shakes at the foundations, "Hey cutie, I was just going out for the exhibit."

You open your mouth to speak, and he shakes his head, grabbing his canvas. Lifting it far too quickly to be safe, and turns on a heel, "I'll see you later."

The speed he leaves the apartment leaves the door frame shaking behind him. Heading out, running from the place. From the crow's dare, from the wary look in your eyes.

From the inadequacy… the guilt… the irritation. The pain.

What lurks over the abyss could just be nothingness. A world where you don't want him, or need him. Where without your memories you do not look at him, hear him call you his beloved bride, and love him as you once did. Where his bond with you is not enough, and he simply has to experience the heart that cannot beat for anyone but you.

That he has lied and hidden and kept from you for too long, that a criminal with blood on his hands who does not hide… claims your heart for his.

His heart…

There is pain behind his art and in his soul. A reminder that he cannot always be with you in every life, and he prays this is not one of them. An alter of suffering that he would cut his chest open at, if you would always look at him.

—--

You cannot stop thinking about the look on Rafayel's face.The agony in his eyes as he'd darted from the room. You'd asked Sylus who had shrugged, "I broke his paintbrush." But not explained further.

You'd seen Rafayel break his own paintbrushes in his studio, stepping on them, falling over them. Resulting in a trip to the hospital because of how messy things were.

You help Sylus clean up some of the mess, containing it in a corner with the rest of Raffy's things, hoping it would alleviate some of the feeling you can't seem to shake in the air. A stagnation. It feels like decay, and you can't open enough windows to air it out.

If Sylus decides not to share, he won't. You've known him long enough, pried at his secrets enough, that you don't waste the strength anymore. He shares what he wants, when he wants to.

So you abandon the effort and go about your day. It drags. Waiting for time to pass, working through your exercises, before you have to leave.

As the time approaches, the clock hand moving, it begins to click harder. The sound impending.

You think about other exhibits, the amount of people, the noise…

It cuts through the excitement, the peace of the wait, the boredom.

You pause as you're getting ready, staring at the prosthetic arm flexing in front of you. The movement of metal fingers, the clear indication of your injury… your failure.

You're going to see Rafayel. A man who people will be looking at. Commending.

Taking photos of.

Do you really want to be stood next to him like this? To draw attention to yourself and him?

An icy chill runs up your spine, and you stop. You have to get these clothes off. You have to cancel. You can't go.

You can't be there.

You feel the chain on your ankle, it tugs and it pulls, and it drags you back. The beast that settled, has woken up. It is hungry and it is angry, and it is laughing at you for trying.

A mistake, this was a mistake. You made a promise to someone you care about, and now you're going to hurt him. Either way, you're going to hurt him. Make him look stupid. Make him hate you.

You're going to break this fragile peace. Bring that agonised look into his eyes again.

Take from a man who gives you so much. Love, affection, kindness, warmth, acceptance, joy.

You are ripping all those things from his hands, and returning nothing.

"Kitten?" You stumble, when the voice startles you out of your thoughts. Falling back onto the bed, looking up as Sylus enters, not bothering to wait for an answer. Ever since your mission had gone wrong, he has been far less hesitant. If he could ever be said to be hesitant.

When he sees you sitting, tears in your eyes, he approaches you, kneels in front of you. Hands on your knees. Soothing your skin. His skin is so warm, it's like a brand. You almost pull away. On fire, itching, hurting. He notices your flinch and pulls his hands away. The relief of the cool is intense, and you choke on the feeling.

You're the mistake. Too fragile to be touched. Too useless to be helpful. Too much work.

He takes in your rumbled clothing. The shirt half pulled off, the jacket thrown away from you, the trousers unclasped. You are shivering, and shaking, and while you can see his hands twitching. Yearning, needing to soothe, he knows he can't. So he tries to speak, hesitant now, "Don't you like them?" You think about the time he spent, finding things with Rafayel that are easier to wear. Clasps that can be done easier with one hand, or buttons bigger for your unsteady metal fingers.

Things that require the least amount of struggle. If he could not find them, he had them made.

The two of them, you think as you try to fight through the fog, are dangerous.

You shake your head numbly. "I can't go."

It doesn't require much more from you, even without his eye, Sylus reads people. He reads you. He's said sometimes he cannot understand the workings of your mind, but he improves everyday. It is terrifying to be seen by him. Terrifying for him to look under the rough exterior, to the rougher interior.

You wait for the moment that he realises you're not worth it.

"You'll be with us." He starts, and you look down at where his hand twitches towards you, then back. "You won't be alone."

You haven't been alone, you think. In all the time you've spent with this. This weight, first on your back, then on your ankle. They have come to find you. Looking.

Just like Caleb did.

Is it enough? This could be that wakeup call.

"Rafayel wants you there, he's excited to see you." It is odd. It is hearing Sylus say 'Rafayel' and not 'fish', that jolts you back. Just like the moment you saw them in your kitchen, arguing. Just like when you saw them all walk through that door when the blanket was your only defence.

It is a realisation of how odd this is. How bizarre they are.

It almost makes you hiccup a laugh. The idea of Sylus speaking for Rafayel. You think about how warm he is to you, how he takes your hand easily.

I will always want to look at you.

"What if it's too much work?" You finally manage, the agony lightening so you can speak, no longer tearing at you. Though you can feel the creature on your ankle. Tugging. Like a dog with a chew toy.

"The important things are worth it."

Important.

Learning to use your prosthetic is hard. Learning to trust is hard.

It was with Caleb, it is with all of them. It is a constant struggle. A constant weight. To try.

They catch you, with a security net. Give you space to breathe, so you can stand back up again.

You think about what you want, think about what will make you happy… what is worth living for.

It is the reason to keep getting up.

You want to see Rafayel's work, you want to see the people you care about. You want to keep your promise to a man who values you. A hesitant shaky hand takes Sylus' where it hovers. The way you can watch him heave a sigh, the tension in him easing, as he clasps yours between both of his. Tight, but not suffocating. He grounds you, and it doesn't burn.

"What do you think, Kitten? Do you want to try?"

Sylus has never belittled you for tears, or made you feel your emotions are a mistake. When you are drowning, he offers a hand. When you anger and hurt, he is there, either to join you in your hurt, or to help appease it.

He offers you a choice, and he means it. If you truly do not want to, you know he will accept it. If you want to, he will help.

"I want to try."

He nods, pulling you up with him, to stand, straight into his chest. So that you can feel his uneven heart beating against you. "Then let's get you ready."

—-----

He should never have left so early. He should have stayed with you.

Rafayel left the apartment in frustration and anger and now he stares at his phone, hoping to see your name pop up.

It is an agitating feeling. To be stood on the edge of the cliff and not know if there's water below.

He has forced himself to listen to Thomas, to go through the motions, to ensure his exhibit is set up correctly. He has sat under too bright lights, feeling himself drying up, as he waits. As the clock hand moves, as he thinks, and he struggles.

If he keeps running, will you stop chasing him?

As his exhibit starts, he checks again, only to see a message from the doctor, 'Good luck today'. He doesn't respond. He stares at it. It's unsettling. He doesn't want the doctor to wish him good luck. He doesn't want his comfort.

He doesn't need it.

Even when his agitation settles a moment, and he hides it from Thomas who asks him why he's smiling. He's not.

That doesn't mean anything.

He does not wave at Xavier as he walks through the door, milling around the paintings quietly. Avoiding the bigger crowds. He tries not to think about the fact that he's come to see.

It doesn't matter.

As time passes, Rafayel fidgets.

Stares at the door.

Fidgets.

Stares at the door.

He walks around the room, passes Xavier, who hands him water quietly, then walks off. He stares down at it, but he's parched, the crowds are tiring him out, the people are talking like they understand him, and he just wants to be somewhere else. So he downs it, and lets the relief of the chill settle in his throat.

He talks absently to people he doesn't really care to listen to. Thomas gives him a talk about doing his duties.

Irritation settles in his stomach. He doesn't care about his duties. He cares about seeing you.

He checks his phone, and is relieved, though irritated, when he gets a message from the crow, 'We're on our way'. He sends back a thumbs up, though it is through a shaky hand. Excitement makes it unsteady.

It is when he is not staring at the door, when he hears your voice behind him. "Raffy?" Pulling away from where he is avoiding Thomas' lectures, he takes you in. Your hand is grasped in the crow's, eyes darting around the room. You're wearing your prosthetic, a dark blue jacket over your shoulders, painted with green and blue flowers. Flared trousers and a light shirt. He absently thinks that the crow's style isn't too ridiculous, if it means you visit his exhibits like this. Like one of the flowers in a garden he wants to take you.

"Cutie!" It is relief and it is the weight of hundreds of years that shed. He waited, he waited, and you came. He takes your hand away from the crow, not without giving a smug little smile, which receives him a smirk, and kisses the back of it. "You made it."

He watches your eyes glisten, he can feel the heat off your cheeks. Not all embarrassment, he knows some of it is stress, but it is enough. "You don't have to stay long." He promises, it doesn't matter how long you stay. You came. You came, no matter what.

You came, and he knows it wasn't easy.

The laugh you release, it trembles, like your hand, but it is accompanied by the small smile he is learning to draw with his eyes closed. "Show me your work?"

"I'll go find the prince, call me if you need me." The crow offers, he leans, kissing your temple, before he leaves. You blink after him a bit, touching where he kissed with your hand, pulling it from Rafayel's grasp, and then look at him. He glares after the man, but doesn't offer much of a response.

"Come on then cutie, you're mine." He doesn't look as he grabs your hand, and he knows he is grinning at you. Pulling you forwards with him, darting to where his art calls for you.

He doesn't notice the chill in your hand, until he eases his fingers over it. Feeling grooves and edges. He almost releases when he realises he has grabbed your prosthetic, you are staring down at it with him.

Rafayel looks at you, tries to read the look in your eyes. It is soft, and awed and gentle. So he raises it to his lips, kissing the wrist. You tremble, blinking, before tightening your grip just a little.

It is the soft, warm look in your eyes, as you tug him forward a little bit more, a laugh bubbling out of you. "Come on Raffy."

He takes you around all of his paintings, and just watches you.

You don't offer him opinions or thoughts often, he has learned if he gives you space to look, you can tell him how you feel. What his art brings out in you. If he looks closely at your face, he can watch it. Trembling in your eyes.

As you flit amongst paintings, like a butterfly amongst flowers, tugging him along with you. He follows willingly.

There are moments when you stop, and your hand twitches out. Like you are holding back the urge to run your fingers over the paint. Tracing shapes, touching at his heart directly.

He wants to tell you that you can do as you please. That you are the one who he wants to understand him most. That his art, and his soul are yours to do with as you like. That you could tear images from his canvas, and he would still paint more for you.

Finally you find yourself in front of his struggle. Bleached bones on the beach, tides easing out. Leaving scars behind.

At the edges of the horizon, the sun rises again. Painting the once dreary sky in a rainbow.

You are the sunrise that greets him, that reminds him that time moves forwards. That there is something to see after the night.

That tomorrow has a chance for better than today.

You bloom like a flower before his eyes, a sight he could never have seen beneath the waves. A reminder of why he came to visit the surface every year. A reminder of all the wonders of land that he idolised as a child.

"Beautiful." Is exhaled, and he is unsure if it was you or him. The twinkling in your eyes, perhaps it was both.

Eventually he feels the strain in your countenance, the exhaustion, so he sneaks with you out of the exhibit. Escaping into gardens that are quiet, and closed to others. A locked gate has never kept him out of anywhere, however.

It is the quiet that settles you, and he settles alongside you. No longer wearing a mask he does not want for people who come to stare at his work. He pulls you amongst flowers, fields of lilies, and whispers of petals.

Secluded and alone. The way he feels best with you.

Lying down in the grass, to look up at the sky, stars twinkling.

It is with the view of the stars that you speak, voice tinged in a guilt he wishes to chase away, "I almost didn't come. I'm sorry Raffy."

His eyes turn to you, to read the draw of your lips, the pain in your eyes, the way you tighten your grip on his hand. Cool metal against skin that reacts to you more than any other. Sensitive, aware.

Your touch will always alight his senses.

He knows the hesitation, he thinks about the way you wavered on the edge, hand extended to you as you feared to take it. He knows that you are adjusting. He regrets asking you to promise, to put that weight on your shoulders.

He is relieved you came. To see him, to stare at the workings of his heart, and yearn to trace it with fingers.

His patience and his need fight often. His awareness of pushing, his desperation. It is hard to balance.

"What changed your mind?"

You edge a little closer on the grass, so that the heat of him spreads over the sensors of your prosthetic. Alongside the gentle stroking of his thumb over your hand. "Sy told me you wanted me to be here… and I wanted to be here for you."

Rafayel's first instinct is the kind of reaction he's seen cats get to water. Hissing and jumping up. Shaking himself furiously.

There is great dissatisfaction at comparing himself to the demons.

There is greater dissatisfaction at the crow, helping him. In any way.

It is a feeling of being pulled back by the scruff of his neck, away from the abyss he seeks out. The fall into the ocean.

The agony on the edge of the conscious.

You poke his cheek with your other hand, then brush hair back and his heart settles its seething. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"That they care for you." It is whispered, and it is tentative, and he sees the worry in your eyes.

The fear at his arguments before. The anxiety that you are causing distress.

Forcing them. Making them clash in enclosed spaces. Like caged beasts.

It is the wary voice that calls out to him, tries to ask the question about the pain in him, the voices and the agony ripping and pulling and hurting. The pain that grants him no inspiration.

They care.

A message sent to wish him luck. A quiet presence bringing him water when he dries. A fool giving you the push to move forwards to lead your feet to him.

You have not stopped looking for him and at him, and he has been holding you like a toy he does not wish to share…

It is a feeling he isn't ready to digest or question, not when the stars are bright and you are safe next to him. It is one he will think about in days to come, as he watches the doctor help him clean. As he is offered a pillow the prince favours in order to sleep better.

When the crow argues with him, but gives him food that satisfies a hunger he forgets to appease for himself.

When you do not look at him any less. That he has not lost anything, he is not lesser.

It is a feeling for later.

To help paint canvas he wants to share one day, though pain is absent, and something else glimmers in the sea.

[exocaliii]

❦︎ Is That What You Want? (It's You)

| Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: In the worst possible place, you reunite with someone you never thought you would see again. Fortunately for you, the looming threat of death unveils many long lost feelings you both tried (and failed) to let go.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: mention of suicide, death, violence, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even tho I do try to avoid it, lots of YEARNING, kind of a childhood friends to lovers typa scenario, kissing (but it's only in like one paragraph at the very end sorry freaksters....)

A/N: SEMI FIC HERE TO MAKE UP FOR HER FUMBLE IN THE LAST ONE!!!! this one is also extremely plot heavy as u can see from the word count LOL but I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!! tried to show her softer side in this as well as her playfulness! this is for the people asking for a se-mi fic in my inbox sorry I made the post before I could click "respond to ask" and now im afraid I might actually delete everything so... this is for u whoever u are <3 I didn't read it over this time y'all so praying for no typos... ENJOY

—

When Se-mi first spots you, you’re crouched down in front of a table and surrounded by four other women as you throw the gonggi pieces into the air. For a solid minute, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her - that or this person that bears a striking resemblance to her first real friend wasn’t you at all. However, when your team rapidly advances around the bloodied track, she’s allowed a closer look at you; your hair has grown longer and you’re just a bit taller than the last time she saw you, but your eyes are still the same and that’s what confirms it for her. 

She doesn’t cheer when you win - her throat feels strangely tight and her heart is heavy in her chest even with your victory - but she does feel an overwhelming sense of relief as she watches you bound past the finish line. Seeing you smile and laugh once again stirs something inside of her, an emotion she hasn’t felt for years. 

Before you completely disappear behind the doors of the field, she swears she sees you turn around and look directly at her, vague recognition clear on your face. 

—

“Hey, where are you running off to so fast?”

Laughter rings out behind you as you pick up your pace, clutching your bag tight to your chest. Multiple footsteps fall in behind you, and with a short glance over your shoulder at the agitated faces of the girls trailing you, you realize today might not just end with a bit of teasing. It’s New Year’s Eve though and the sun is mostly set, so maybe they won’t knock you out cold so you can make it home on time to welcome the new year with your family.

“C’mon, aren’t you gonna pay us back?” For what, you want to shout, but before you even get the chance to respond, the footsteps behind you suddenly speed up. You’re practically thrown to the ground with a single hard shove on your back, arms flailing as your bag scuttles across the concrete. “My dad said your family owes us some money, you know, and I don’t mind getting it from you.”

Your head is spinning and your nose feels oddly hot, but you hear her words loud and clear and they send a deep feeling of shame through your entire body. A hand tangles itself in your hair as your head is pulled back, causing yet another fit of laughter to ring throughout the alley. “Fuck, her nose is bleeding so much! Did you break it?”

The one holding you by the hair reassures her group that you’d be fine, they could just say you fell because currently, it was your word against five other students. A part of you begins to wonder if anyone would even come help if you screamed right then - the alley was right next to the school, someone was bound to hear you. 

As the other four begin to sift through your bag for any valuables, you find your mouth sealed shut, afraid that even a whimper of pain would turn the attention of this pack of wolves back towards you. You didn’t have much in your wallet these days, and what you did have was pocket change for emergencies. They would go home disappointed either way, but whatever kept you from getting beaten the worst would be preferred. 

“What the hell, she’s only got like 5000 won in here.” The tallest girl turns to you with both confusion and disdain evident on her face. “Are you really that fucking poor? Where’s the rest of it?”

She stands right back up and so does the other three, all slowly advancing on you as you were held down by the fifth. You don’t even struggle against her loose grip on your hair, slowly coming to accept the fact that you might just have to take a beating for today, because there is no ‘the rest of it.’ 

Perhaps, if you’re lucky, they’ll get bored fast at your lack of reaction to anything they do and you’ll only go home with a bloody nose and a couple easily hidden bruises. 

You can accept that fate, you can accept your place in this world. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” 

Everyone’s heads, even yours, turn towards the lone girl standing at the entrance of the alleyway. With the setting sun behind her, her face is mostly casted in shadows. You think you recognize her as one of the troublemakers in your math class, constantly getting sent outside to stand in the hallway and ‘think about what she’s done.’ Even after being in the same class for two years, you still haven’t quite learned anything about her beyond her antics. The reason for why she’s butting in though, is also lost on you.

“Mind your business, Se-mi.” So that’s her name. It fits her. “We’re just teaching this one a nice lesson in karma.” 

How ironic. Five girls beating on a younger classmate would definitely bring them amazing luck for the New Year.

Se-mi’s eyes trail down towards the ground, towards you, and her eyes take in your bloody nose and the deep-blue bruise already forming on your cheek. For a second, you think she might just leave you here like anyone else would, but after some obvious inner contemplation, she speaks up once again.

“She looks like she understands it just fine now,” she says mockingly, beginning to walk closer towards you all. Her eyes are sharp, leaving no room for argument, and you only wish you could be half as strong to stand up to these girls. “Maybe you guys should just head home.” It sounds less like a suggestion than it does a threat, and your attackers respond in kind. 

“What, you got a problem with us?” It’s obviously not a real question, but a chance for Se-mi to back out now before things get serious. She doesn’t.

“Yeah, I do, so what’re we gonna do about it?” 

Inwardly, you curse yourself for inadvertently placing this stranger at risk to get beat up right alongside you for a problem that definitely had nothing to do with her. 

For a second, the girls are silent, but you can practically feel their anger growing as the one on top of you lets go of your hair. Se-mi stands her ground, expression just as cold as always as they try (and fail) to intimidate her with their glares. You’re frozen in awe of this idiot for both her courage and her poor decision-making skills.

It’s no surprise to you when the tall one lunges forward to try and land the first punch in the inevitable fight, but Se-mi is quick to dodge it and redirect her momentum right into the side of a trash can. All hell breaks loose after that, and for a second, you think your savior might just win the fight with pure skill and experience alone, but reality catches up to you both. 

With pure numbers, they bring Se-mi to the ground, and even though you scramble to your feet and try to fight them as well, you’re humbled even faster with your already pre-existing injuries and lack of knowledge on any forms of fighting. The tall one is the angriest, screaming curses at you both as you’re kicked and punched on the ground. Se-mi’s attempt to get back on her feet is thwarted by a solid hit on her face, and your lack of an attempt is rewarded with a fist right to the center of your ribcage, knocking all the air out from your lungs. 

As you’re beginning to think they might really want to kill you both, sirens in the distance interrupt the bombardment of pain on your sore body. 

“Shit, is that the police? Have we been spotted?” Their voices are now twinged with a hint of anxiety at being caught, and fortunately for the two of you, that’s all it takes to end the assault. “Let’s just leave.”

With a final kick to your back, the girls quickly grab their backpacks and run for it, long forgetting your own bag and the 5000 won that started this beatdown in the first place. 

—

As you look around the giant room for a place to eat, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the crowd for a familiar face as well. 

A part of you is sure that it was her that you walked right by in the middle of the last game, but you were so focused on facing forward to make sure you wouldn’t trip that you weren’t able to get a clear look at her face. Even after you won, you were given little to no time to do anything on the field before being ushered back to the main room. Now, you’re beginning to think that the looming threat of death is making you cling even harder to long lost dreams, but you hope that isn’t enough to make you hallucinate people you used to know. 

Sitting down on one of the unoccupied steps, you open your container and begin digging in, forcing yourself to forget the foolish dream that’s been occupying your mind for hours now. Even during the vote, you found your hand drifting towards the bright red X just in case she really was here and at risk of imminent death (just like everyone else). In the end, the blue patch on your chest is unchanging, and no imaginary companion will change that.

“Y/N?”

Your neck almost snaps clean in half with the way your head shoots up to see the person who just called your name, a name you are 100% sure you didn’t give to anyone here. Yet, when you see who it is, you’re somehow even more surprised than you would’ve been if it was some stranger. 

Se-mi casually stands right in front of you after what felt like a lifetime without her. She smiles - no, smirks at the recognition evident on your face and plops herself down right next to you.

“Long time no see, 399,” she says, her voice teetering on the edge of teasing and what might be genuine happiness to see you again. Of course, she has to ruin the moment by reminding you of the situation you had to reunite in, and you glance down at the number on her chest as well.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you again, 380.” You add as much sass to your voice as you can manage in the moment, but it comes out just as soft as you meant it in your heart because it is good to see her again. 

For a moment, the two of you can only stare at each other, picking up the differences in each person’s appearance since the last time you met. It’s the kind of peaceful silence that you haven’t been afforded for far too long, and now that it’s given to you, you can’t bring yourself to be the one that breaks it. Luckily for you, it seems like Se-mi can’t either, because all she does is stare at you with an indecipherable look in her eyes. If you had to describe it, you might say that it’s the unspoken equivalence of the softness in your voice from earlier (by now, you understand full well that the most genuine emotion you’ll get out of her might just have to come from carefully reading every one of her expressions). 

For a long time, the two of you simply eat in silence, basking in each other’s company. Your legs occasionally brush with how close she sat to you, but it doesn’t feel awkward in the slightest; if anything, it’s comforting, reminding you of your youth together before the real world caught up. 

“So, you know what I’m gonna ask you.” As always, it’s her that breaks the silence between you two, and you can’t blame her for being curious. Afterall, this was a horrible place to meet someone you know.

“My father’s business finally completely collapsed, and now we’re getting chased around the country by loan sharks,” you say, laughing a bit at your own situation. It didn’t take long for you to decide that Se-mi deserved to know the truth, but you knew she would be the last person to judge you for such circumstances. “I didn’t have any other options besides this.”

She doesn’t look at you with pity for your answer. It’s one of the traits you appreciated most from her back then. 

“What about you? How’d you end up in this shithole?” 

Your question earns you a laugh that as always, never fails to make you smile right back at her.

“I mean, I can’t say I’m getting chased around, but I’ve got a bit of debt I need to handle.” She almost decides to cut her story off there, but you’re looking at her with such genuine interest in your eyes that she can’t bring herself to hide the rest from you. How long has it been since someone cared so much about what she had to say? “College was… too expensive. I didn’t have anyone that could help out, so I’ve just been working random jobs here and there.”

Unfortunately, her answer seems completely honest. You wish you could’ve been there by her side, but your own family was dealing with a lot then too. 

“Why didn’t you just… continue to try to make it work out there?” You’re praying that your question doesn’t come off as insensitive, but she seems to find it amusing if anything. “Why would you risk losing everything like this?”

That last phrase earns you a scoff this time, and she turns away with a strained expression, clearly struggling to keep her ever cocky smirk on her face.

“I don’t have anything left to lose. This place is my chance to get a headstart or just…” The rest remains unsaid, and even though she’s speaking so casually, your heart drops at the insinuation. “...I haven’t left a mark on the world at all, Y/N. What happens here really won’t matter much to anyone out there.”

For a second, you’re stumped as to how to answer her. There’s some twisted truth to her reasoning, and you’re sure that if most of the people in this room died tomorrow, their deaths would be passed off as mere victims to loan sharks or suicide. That, or their disappearances wouldn’t be noticed at all. But no. It isn’t the same for Se-mi, and you desperately want her to know that.

“It would matter a lot to me.” You try to make it sound casual so she doesn’t tuck tail and run like she usually does, but you know it left an impact on her with the way her eyes drift to the ground and her brows furrow just slightly. “You left a pretty big impact on my life, you know that?”

As you turn back towards your food, Se-mi glances at you from the corner of her eye. There isn’t a hint of deception or even sarcasm in your face, in your voice, in any part of you. It’s a level of honesty she’s only ever experienced from you, and after being apart for so long, she had forgotten how soothing it was to be on the receiving end of such genuine kindness. 

For years now, she had found herself searching for you in every face she came across, in every friend and partner she had, in every short moment of peace she was allowed in her rocky life. Now that she’s finally found you though, she’s not sure what to do with herself. 

For the rest of night, right up until lights-out, the two of you bask in the silence once again. In your own separate ways, you both sit there and think about each other. You consider what you lost when you were separated from her. She considers the fact that she might’ve just regained something she can now lose if her own life is lost, and the thought of it terrifies her. 

When it’s time to sleep, it’s Se-mi that gets up first, albeit with a great deal of hesitance. The two of you part ways, and before you can get too far, you hear a faint whisper from behind you.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

It makes you crack a smile, turning around to see her still looking at you. Her smile is still strained, but now, there’s a hint of happiness there.

“Yeah, you too, and goodnight, Se-mi.” 

Even now, the sound of your soft voice calling her name makes her heart skip a beat.

—

“What the fuck was that…” 

You finally begin to stir awake at the groans and curses coming from beside, and all your body feels is pain.

God, they really did a number on you didn’t they?

“Fucking cops didn’t even stop for us,” the voice groans again, now paired with a faint shuffling as you watch her attempt to get back on her feet through your incredibly blurry eyes. All you can manage is to roll onto your back, looking up to see the pitch black sky.

Wait, black?! 

How long have you been out?!

“Uff!” A loud clatter of boxes graces your ears as you glance over to see her - Se-mi, was it? - right back on the ground. From the looks of it, her legs were also feeling extremely uncooperative. You already feel like shit, but she took a majority of the beating so she probably feels even worse. Guilt courses through you as she groans in pain, rolling onto her back to mimic your position. 

For a couple minutes, you both lay there in silence, staring up at the empty night sky. In the far distance, cars zoom past on the main road, likely salarymen rushing to get home to their families in time to celebrate New Years.

By now, you've come to the realization that you'll probably would have to celebrate yours alone on the ground this time, considering the fact that your body was not letting you get back up. For now, at least, maybe you can get to know your savior (or rather, attempted savior).

“...I’m sorry about this,” you whisper, sighing heavily into the cold December air.

“Did you get a few hits in on me too?” She’s clearly mocking you, but you can’t even be mad right now. 

“Still… sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” A beat of silence follows. “I never liked those bitches anyways.” 

The second part is almost whispered as if it were a secret between the two of you, and you let out a small chuckle, cutting yourself off before it becomes a laugh as pain shoots up your torso at that small movement. 

In the tranquility that follows, Se-mi begins to fully question why she was laying there on the cold concrete in extreme discomfort for a stranger - well, not really a stranger, but she doesn’t even know your name. Then she thinks back to the ugly feeling she had in her gut watching you get cornered by those stuck-up rich kids, unwilling to even fight back, and she thinks she might’ve done the right thing despite how meaningless this encounter might become. 

She looks over at your bruised face thinking about how similar you looked to a kicked puppy at that instance, and she can’t help but push your buttons even more. 

“Aren’t you glad we were able to save your 5000 won?” 

The absurdity of her statement distracts you from the pain you feel, and after a scoff and a slight shake of your head, you find yourself genuinely laughing for the first time in a long time. It doesn’t take long for her to follow, and after a couple moments, you both find yourselves giggling like children at the shitty situation.

You enjoy this rare moment of companionship for only a couple seconds before you begin hearing loud shouts in the distance.

They’re counting down, but you’re nowhere near home and neither is she.

“5!”

“Hey, what’s your name?” 

“4!”

You turn your head and answer her, and she smiles at you.

“3!”

“I’m Se-mi.” 

“2!”

It’s different hearing her name from her own mouth, spoken without any of the hatred that your attackers infused into the word.

“1!”

You both look up just in time to see fireworks lighting up the once dark sky, red, yellow, and green hues reflecting in your eyes as you force yourself to relax and take in the moment. 

In this moment, with Se-mi by your side, you don’t feel as lonely as you expected yourself to be. It’s a feeling of comfort you’re rarely given, but you openly bask in it as you think about the confidence and bravery it must’ve taken to stand up against five people like that. In another life, perhaps, you could be someone like her, protecting people like you. 

Like a knight in shining armor.

“Happy New Year, Y/N. I’m going to sleep now.” Your head snaps over in her direction as she folds her hands behind her head and closes her eyes, getting way too comfortable on the ground of a shady alleyway.

“What?” No response. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re not sleeping here!”

She bluntly ignores you and her breaths get heavier, but it’s obvious that she’s just pretending to be asleep. The thought of getting up and leaving by yourself crosses your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to part with this girl just yet.

With a resigned sigh, you roll onto your side with a pained groan and close your eyes as well, praying that no mysterious van comes to kidnap you two in this moment.

“Happy New Year, Se-mi.” Silence. “And thank you.”

You’re already facing her so when you peak open your eyes, you see her lips twitch upwards at your choice to stay, and that solidifies the deal.

When morning comes the next day, you don’t even bother going home first before walking alongside her to school. You sit next to her in class for the first time, and you share the lunch you bought with her under the guise of ‘not being able to finish it.’ She’s resistant at first, but eventually, she indulges you. 

This routine continues for the next two years. It’s only interrupted when you break the news to her that your father is forcing the family to flee because of his growing debts. 

That night, you both walk back to the alley and lay there together under the stars.

You think you might’ve seen her eyes water once or twice, but you say nothing, unwilling to break the sacred silence between the two of you. It’s the last one you share for years, until you inevitably see her again in the worst possible place.

—

As everyone begins filing out to head to the next game, Se-mi feels an uncontrollable urge to break away from her current group to go find you once again. She can already see you in the distance, but even though the two of you make eye contact for a brief moment, you look away upon seeing her already large group. 

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she begins to turn away from the rambling of Thanos and Nam-gyu behind her, but a meek voice calls out her name and stops her.

“Where are you going?” 

It’s Min-su, and he’s looking at her like a lost animal terrified of losing its protector. A wave of guilt crashes into her at the thought of leaving this poor boy to the sharks, and even though your face is still the only thing on her mind, she wonders if it’s worth it to betray her new group. 

If she left now, she might not make it through this next game. 

If she dies now, she won’t get a second chance at life (and a second chance to live by your side again, but she pushes that thought to the side for now). 

“Nowhere, let’s go.”

That’s all it takes to appease him, and with one last glance over to where she saw you last, she reintegrates herself back into the group and moves forward. 

—

Even though the first two rounds pass by without a hitch, you think this game might be the most dangerous one yet. You’ve got your own little group from the Six-Legged Race, but as the announcer called for rooms of four, you watch the youngest girl of your team get shoved out of your group by two others (sisters, if you remembered correctly). It’s heartbreaking to hear her cry out as you all ran away, but you can’t save her and save yourself at the same time. 

You’ve made it this far, and you’d be damned if you were sent home an empty handed corpse now. 

As the platform begins to spin again, you pat the shoulder of the woman standing next to you - 047. She was closer to the younger one than you were, and her death obviously shook the poor lady up. Her reaction makes you realize how distant you’ve been to everyone since you arrived (with one notable exception, of course), and you find your own heart beating hard against your chest at the thought of being abandoned as well. 

“3 players.”

Of course.

For a second, the four of you freeze. The sisters are holding onto each other’s hands with a death grip, and you know now that it’s between you and 047. A part of you thinks about shoving her down so you could run away with the other two, but something behind her catches your eye before you can do anything.

It’s Se-mi. 

She’s standing completely alone, hand held out towards nobody, and not a single other person from that group you saw her with earlier by her side. 

Like it’s muscle memory, you shove past 047 and run the fastest you’ve ever ran right at her. You hear a faint yell of gratitude from behind you as you wrap your arms around Se-mi and pull her forward towards one of the empty rooms in the distance. The impact seems to wake her out of her stupor, changing your awkward position so that now, you’re running side by side with her hand in yours. Along the way, you grab a stray girl up from the ground by the back of her sweater and pull her along to complete the three. 

As you all clamber into the room, Se-mi slams the door shut behind you, barely missing the time-out buzzer. The lock clicks shut, and you hear gunfire outside, but she ignores all of it to turn around to look at you. This is the most emotional she’s looked since you’ve reunited, eyes downturned with sadness and a hint of fear at how close she was to death. 

Ignoring the girl repeatedly thanking you to your right, you walk up to Se-mi and pull her into a tight hug, relishing in the warmth of her body. 

“I’m glad I made it in time, 380.”

You feel her arms beginning to wrap around you before the lock clicks open, forcing you to pull apart to exit the room. Your hand doesn’t leave hers, and it’s a clear signal that you’ll be sticking by her side for the rest of this game.

Se-mi doesn’t even find herself searching the arena for Min-su and the others as you walk with her back to the platform, completely distracted by the tingling sensation in her hand as you interlace your fingers together. It’s a feeling that’s new to her, being chosen by someone in a manner like this; of course, she’s been desired before, maybe even loved (despite her inability to return the other person’s feelings), but this is different somehow. In this scenario, it’s you, not some random girl she met at a bar. It’s you choosing to risk your life to make sure she continues living, and in the wake of this realization, the feelings that she’s been shoving down for countless years come rushing back to her. 

As the next rounds pass by, you remain unchanging by her side. Even as the announcer calls for 2 players, you don’t even hesitate to pull her with you, leaving behind everyone you joined up with in the last couple rounds. 

Even after you run over the blood of countless others, you never let go of her hand, and she never lets go of yours.

—

“You really saved my ass back there.”

Here, back in the comfort of this familiar room, Se-mi has regained her usual joking nature, smirking at you as you nod, very clearly proud of yourself.

“Yes, I did. Maybe you should give me your share of the prize money for that,” you say, holding out your hand to her. She laughs and wraps her arm around your shoulder, walking you back over to the steps where you had your first conversation. 

“Maybe I will, or maybe I’ll pay for a couple meals together instead.” The innuendo isn’t lost on you, and your face goes red as she gets even cockier. “It’s time I pay for you for all those lunches, but dinner wouldn’t be so bad either.”

Your face is still turned away from her in embarrassment, but she can still see the blush on your cheeks, revelling in her own ability to make you fold. You mumble something under your breath, but she’s too focused on her victory to hear you. 

“What was that?”

“I said, you’ve already saved me plenty of times before, more times than you can count, so I should treat you first.” 

The warmth in her chest returns full force, and now, it’s her fighting to keep a blush off her face, lest you start embarrassing her about that too. She wonders, what would it be like to take you out on a proper date? She imagines you all dressed up, and in that moment, she decides what she wants to spend her prize money on first when you all leave this place. 

She wants to buy you flowers. She wants to take you to a nice, luxurious restaurant and show you off, then under the stars, she’ll ask you to be hers.

“Whatever you say, pretty lady.”

That earns her a smack on the arm and a scoff as your face starts burning once again (to Se-mi’s absolute delight). 

The moment is unfortunately interrupted by the main doors sliding open, and you watch as the pink guards file in. At the front table, two giant buttons lay waiting for the remaining contestants. Everyone around you begins to speak in hushed tones, obviously discussing their plans for the next vote. 

“Are you going to change your vote?” As you spin around to face her again, Se-mi gestures down at the blue patch on your chest. 

During your entire walk back, you had been contemplating your unchanging choice to stay and risk your life. For the majority of the first two days, you lived life believing there would be no consequences to your death. You wouldn’t lose anything - your life was already in immense danger outside this place, so your family wouldn’t be too surprised if you turned up dead either. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain, and so, O was the easy choice.

Then Se-mi walks back into your life and complicates the hell out of it. 

Now, you realize that if you vote to stay, you’re also voting for her to stay and risk her life. If either of you died here, you would be wasting this chance cast upon you to experience the world by her side.

“Yes, this should be enough money for my family to be able to live normally again.” 

She nods, and even though it looks like she’s still contemplating her decision, Se-mi made her choice as soon as you took her hand in the last game.

“Even if there were less money in the pig right now, I think I’d still pick to leave.” You smile softly at her and look her directly in the eye as you continue. “Being wealthy is a faraway dream, but for now, I just want to live in the company of those I love.” You squeeze her hand and hold your gaze, and this time, Se-mi isn’t able to hold back the blush that rushes onto her face.

If these games don’t take her out, you’ll really be the death of her.

—

As you silently eat what is hopefully your last meal in this place together, two groups of men clamber out of the bathroom. They’re bloodied and there’s a horrifying look of pure bloodlust on many of their faces, and you feel your heart drop. 

Would there be a fight tonight? Is that allowed?

Se-mi sees the fear on your face and gently rubs her thumb on the back of her hand. Despite her best efforts though, your concerns are not assuaged and you realize that getting shot by the pink guards might not be the only way you can die in this place. 

These people are hungry and hopeless, and you fully understand the lengths many would go through for a second chance.

“Se-mi, sleep with me tonight.” 

Her eyebrows raise and she smirks, but even this attempt to lighten the air with her usual humor doesn’t work, but still, she agrees immediately and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re sure that no matter what happens, you won’t find sleep tonight, but that pales in comparison to your desire to protect Se-mi at all costs. 

You won’t leave this place without her. 

—

As the strobe lights turn on and off, your eyes bounce around the room as you search for somewhere, anywhere that might be free of the insane violence. Every way you look, there’s some sort of fight happening - that or you’ve just watched someone get brutally murdered in their own bed. For a second, you consider that you might be safe if you and her just stand still in your little corner, but a man rounds the corner and you feel yourself freeze up.

“Come here, you fucking traitor bitch!” It’s 124, and he looks like a rabid animal with red painted across his face and a bloody fork in his hand. In the back of your mind, you slap yourself for not keeping the utensil for self defense. 

Se-mi attempts to shove you further behind her as he begins charging at you two, but before you can even make a move, a glass bottle shatters at his feet. You all look up to see a young man that you don’t recognize, but from the rage on 124’s face, you figure he might’ve been one of his old teammates. 

In their distracted states, you rush forward, grabbing a shard of glass from the floor and swinging it right at the man’s head. Unfortunately for you, you still have absolutely no skills when it comes to fighting and he easily dodges the hit. It doesn’t feel like some slow motion action movie when you see his fork flying at your neck at full speed, but somehow, you’re fast enough to lift your hand so that it punctures right through your palm instead. You scream, and behind you, Se-mi calls your name as well. 

In an extremely painful rush of adrenaline, you maneuver his and your body to switch places, trusting Se-mi to take care of the rest. In the few flashes of light that you’re granted, you see her rush forward with her own shard of glass in hand, unforgivingly jabbing it right into the side of 124’s neck. 

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” His scream pierces your ears as he finally lets you go, and you don’t waste the moment you get. Pulling his fork out of your hand, you slam it down into the side of his head with all your strength. 

A beat passes, then he falls to the ground unmoving. 

“Are you okay?! Let me see!” Se-mi rushes forward and takes you in her arms, dragging both of you backwards towards the wall as she inspected your injuries. In the rush that followed watching someone die by your own hands, you can barely feel the pain at all. All you can focus on is the woman in front of you and how afraid you were when 124 charged at her. 

“Se-mi - Se-mi, listen to me,” you choke you, using your bloody hands to gently hold her face. Her eyes are glossy with unshed tears, and you can see how much the encounter shook her to her core. “When we leave this place, promise me you’ll stay by my side.”

Your voice is desperate and you can feel your own tears rising, vision getting blurry as you struggle to wipe them off with the sleeve of your sweater. It looks like Se-mi barely heard your request with the way she was still scanning your body for any serious injuries. 

“What?! What are you-”

“Promise me! Please!” You’re openly sobbing now, holding onto the one thing keeping you moving in this world, and finally, she focuses her gaze back on your face. With a quiet voice, she finally responds to you with a shaky smile.

“How could I ever leave you?”

Her eyes are the most expressive they’ve been, filled with concern and what looks like love, the same love that you’ve held for her ever since you were 16. 

With trembling hands, she holds your face just as you hold hers and leans in, pressing her lips against yours. It’s not gentle - it’s more desperate if anything, but you feel like flying in that moment. As your legs slowly give out, she holds you carefully in her arms and lowers the both of you to the floor. 

Finally, as you begin to drown out the surrounding chaos, the world around you falls silent as well. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re back in that alleyway, finally at peace with the person you love the most.

When you open your eyes again, she’s still right there in front of you, and you’re the happiest you’ve been since the day you met.

—

A/N: PLOT MONSTER STRIKES AGAIN!!! anyways this was inspired by a cherry waves edit I saw of her on TikTok where she told min-su "I thought you wouldn't deceive me" so I had to give her a girl that she KNOWS would never deceive her... okay guys hope y'all enjoy and as always plz PLZ LMK WHAT U THINK!! I love interacting with y'all im serious... and for the no eul lovers I see u and I hear u... but its gonna be a bit till that one comes out cuz im about to start second semester college... hashtag NOT FUNNY ANYMORE

also im still playing around with the layout of my posts so if I keep doing different sht and it throws u off im so sorry LOL

[shizuturnspages]

Just yandere ayato and diluc with reader who has been through a lot. Like war, abuse, losing friends and death? You name it

And yet reader remain gentle and kind through it all.

I like this one because we all know diluc turns cold after his father's death, meanwhile ayato had to put up a face and gets crueler in order to keep the peace around his clan,

Yandere Ayato and Diluc with a Gentle S/O Who’s Been Through It All

Yandere Ayato

The Facade Falls for You

❥ Ayato is a master manipulator, wearing a calm, collected mask to navigate the storm of Inazuma’s politics. Yet, with you, it crumbles. Your gentleness is disarming in a way that terrifies him; he feels like you’re the only person who truly sees him beyond his strategic facade.

❥ He becomes obsessively protective, not just of your safety but of your kindness. He sees the world as something cruel, unworthy of you, and he’s determined to shield you from anything that could tarnish your purity.

Fixated on Your Strength

❥ Ayato admires your resilience, though he’d never outright say it. To him, your ability to endure so much and still remain gentle is nothing short of miraculous—and it feeds his obsession.

❥ However, he also hates the world for what it’s done to you. While you forgive and move forward, he quietly seethes, plotting ways to punish anyone who’s hurt you. They won’t even know it’s him pulling the strings until it’s far too late.

Subtle Possessiveness

❥ Ayato’s control over you is subtle but firm. He makes it impossible for you to leave his side by weaving himself into every aspect of your life—offering you comfort, opportunities, and protection under the guise of kindness.

❥ “You’ve done so much on your own,” he murmurs, taking your hand. “Let me carry some of that burden for you. You deserve to rest.”

A Calculated Protector

❥ Ayato will eliminate threats to your happiness without a second thought. Whether it’s someone from your past or a current obstacle, he’ll handle it quietly and efficiently. You’ll never have to lift a finger—or even know.

❥ But if you insist on staying connected to anyone he deems harmful? His tone sharpens, his smile a little too tight. “You trust me, don’t you? Then let me decide what’s best for you.”

Scenario:

You were sitting in the gardens of the Kamisato Estate, the sun casting a soft glow over the flowers. Ayato watched you from a distance, his heart twisting. How could someone who’d faced so much still look at the world with such warmth?

He approached, offering you a cup of tea. “You seem lost in thought,” he said, his voice gentle.

You smiled, though the melancholy in your eyes was impossible to miss. “Just thinking about the past. It’s strange, isn’t it? How the world can be so cruel yet still so beautiful?”

Ayato’s jaw tightened. He hated hearing you speak of the pain you’d endured, even if you did so with such grace. “You shouldn’t have to carry those memories alone,” he said, his tone firm. “Let me share them with you.”

“You’ve done so much for me already,” you replied, your smile soft but hesitant.

“And I’ll continue to do so,” Ayato said, his hand brushing yours. “Because you deserve more than what this world has given you. And I’ll ensure you have it—even if it means bending the world itself.”

Yandere Diluc

A Mirror to His Own Pain

❥ Your ability to remain kind despite your suffering resonates deeply with Diluc, who turned cold and distant after his father’s death. He sees in you the person he wishes he could have been, and that admiration quickly turns into obsession.

❥ He clings to you like a lifeline, desperate to keep your warmth in his otherwise dark and lonely world.

Overbearing Protection

❥ Diluc’s protective streak is intense. He knows first-hand how cruel the world can be, and he refuses to let it harm you any further. Whether it’s sheltering you at Dawn Winery or accompanying you everywhere, he’s always there.

❥ “You’ve suffered enough,” he says, his voice low and serious. “Let me take care of you now.”

Anger at Your Past

❥ While you forgive those who’ve hurt you, Diluc cannot. His anger burns hot and relentless, and he channels it into ensuring no one from your past ever gets close to you again.

❥ If he finds out someone who hurt you is still alive? Well, the Darknight Hero has another mission.

Struggling with Your Independence

❥ Diluc struggles with the fact that you can stand on your own after everything you’ve been through. While he respects your strength, it also feeds his insecurities—he wants you to need him.

❥ This can lead to moments of conflict, where his overprotectiveness clashes with your desire to handle things yourself.

Scenario:

The crackling of the fireplace filled the quiet room at Dawn Winery. You sat curled up on the couch, staring into the flames. Diluc watched you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

“You’re too quiet,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him and smiled faintly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it—an undercurrent of worry.

“The past,” you admitted. “It’s strange. I’ve been through so much, but I’m still here. Sometimes I wonder why.”

Diluc crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling in front of you. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re here because you’re strong,” he said, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “Because you’ve endured more than anyone should have to. And I swear, as long as I’m alive, I won’t let you suffer anymore.”

You shook your head. “Diluc, you can’t protect me from everything.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can try. And I will. Because I can’t lose you—not to this world, not to anything.”

[windblume-wishes]

Obey Me Brothers - The Period Pain Simulator (HCs)

AFAB MC in this story!

TW: Mentions of periods, blood, and period pain.

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

You decided to order a period pain simulator after seeing trends online of men giving them a try and suffering. As being the only AFAB individual in a house full of testosterone it only makes sense to see if it too works on demon men- after all, a man is a man regardless of species, right? Surely seven demons could withstand a mere period pain simulator…. Right….?

Lucifer

He knows about periods, yes, Lilith herself did go through them- however, as far as he was aware, they were not as excruciating. She just was a moody muffin who became overly blunt and would be extremely hungry. Yes, she did want to throw hands at times but he shrugged it off for the most part.

Yes female angels have periods too, he has been witness to some rather brutal ones where the female angels just get insanely emotional or start wanting heads to roll. Demon females too, he’s seen plenty at the local grocery store go bonkers over snacks and the hygiene products.

He had no idea exactly how painful these could get, oh boy would he find out.

Was hesitant at first, after all, you seem to be in agony during your monthly visitor but he decides to give this a go just to see how you truly feel. He’s seen plenty of females, angel, human or demon, go through them and each have their own unique emotional range and pains.

What can possibly go wrong? It’s just a silly human device that is made to simulate period pain. How could this ever hurt the great Lucifer himself?

How bad can it REALLY be? Sir, prepare to feel some agony.

“Is this even on? Hmph, this is easier than I thought.”

Sir, that is because it’s only at setting 1, be ready for worse.

Immediately eats his words the second you crank it up to about three, he refuses to admit it hurts and simply says he’s a demon, this is nothing.

Crank it up to about five and he is already sweating, he still refuses to throw in the towel and admit defeat. He must hold out for as long as possible.

“Y/N… you really feel this?! Every month?!”

“Yes, but imagine more pain and blood gushing out of your southern hemisphere- oh and tender breasts, followed by a fever, bloating, nausea, and insane cravings.”

“Remind me to curse Father out more for this- ahem- design flaw…”

You crank it up to seven and he caves. He is done. He has unshed tears in his eyes and is on the bed writhing in agony.

“Honey, want to try levels nine and ten? That’s how it usually feels for me on the first two days.”

He literally looks you in the eyes and says he will never do that again, however… he just discovered an interesting punishment device in this thing.

I feel bad for the sorry chap who has to suffer the simulator by the hands of Lucifer himself.

After experiencing the period pain simulation he will go even more above and beyond for you during your period.

He runs to the store faster than Mammon when he hears the word “money” to buy you snacks, pads, and anything really.

“You know, level 10 is the equivalent to early labor pains.”

Oh absolutely not, nope, and he thought level 6 was labor pain.

You are hereby exempt from taking classes in-person while on your period. You will become an online student those days and you will be required to relax and take it easy.

If his grudge for his Father wasn’t already big enough that grudge just skyrocketed so high it’s practically a missile to the Celestial Realm.

Mammon

He’s mildly familiar with periods, despite having a little sister he’s still an idiot as to how biology works in that sense.

He has an F (32.60%) in biology currently

He understands the b*tchy attitude and the craving part but the blood part…? Not really. Tell him about bleeding for a week straight and watch this man dial 666 (Devildom’s 911) for immediate assistance in getting his human to the hospital because of Father above you are obviously dy*ng and you need help.

The minute you tell him about this simulator and how it’s supposedly painful and can simulate a period he gets curious and thinks this is a great way to show he’s manly enough for you.

Mammon, you will suffer worse than any of the punishment Lucifer has put you through.

“Can’t hurt worse than any kick to the balls! Ha! This is simple! I’m the GREAT Mammon, I got this!”

Mammon, sweetie, a kick to the balls is nothing to this. It’s scientifically proven that period pains are equally as painful as a heart attack.

He whimpers as the simulator is strapped on

“Y-yo what gives?! It hurts!”

“Mammon, it’s not even on…”

You turn the dial onto the lowest setting, one, so far Mammon is holding strong, nothing too serious.

“Just feels like I gotta fart- like, not a big one but a good sized one.”

Turn it up to about three and he is already clutching his gut and whimpering.

“O-ok! N-now I feel like I gotta sh*t! But there ain’t any sh*t to sh*t! Y/N THE HELL IS THIS?!”

You crank it up to about six and he gives up. He is on the ground crying like a baby.

He swears that Lucifer gives less painful punishments than THIS.

“TURN IT OFF!! YO Y/N TURN IT OFF!! THIS IS WORSE THAN ANYTHIN’!! GETTIN’ KICKED IN THE NUTS IS NOTHIN’ TO THIS!!”

He will also swear that getting “the cut” was less painful than this simulator and will wholeheartedly d*e on that hill.

“This is like… my third lightest day in terms of flow, so yeah- this is painful but just uncomfortable.”

“TF YOU MEAN JUST UNCOMFORTABLE?!”

Man is ready to throw hands with your uterus and demand it stops hurting you.

Mammon feels even worse knowing he picked on his little sister when she was on her period and vows to never anger a lady on her monthly ever again.

“I-is it true ya don’t get this when yer pregnant…? If so, uh….”

Leviathan

He’s heard of periods of course, mainly from anime and manga. He knew of them a bit back when Lilith was around but never really thought much of it.

He is legit scared of them though because Lilith would bite and would get extremely moody on hers and he only ever was aware of the emotional aspect of periods.

Little girl chased him into his room and became very chihuahua like when on her monthly.

He thought the blood part was something only in anime and manga but…. Shh, Y/N, let him figure that out himself.

He’s familiar with the trend, he spends his time scrolling through FabSnap for trends or other things.

“LMAO what normie stuff! Putting themselves through pain from some measly human machine ROTFL!”

“Levi, that measly human machine hurts worse than getting kicked in the balls and is as painful as a literal heart attack.”

“Y/N, PLZ, that’s gotta be some normie rumor and they’re acting in front of the camera- that thing is so small that it totally can’t do something like THAT! LOOOOOOOLLL!! So yeah, my balls are fine, I’m fine, and I’m NOT gonna look like a normie whining on the floor!”

He lifts his shirt and puts the stickers on where they belong he sits in his beanbag chair and waits for whatever you have to throw at him.

How bad can this normie thing be?

He feels a small ounce of discomfort when it’s at one, just brushes it off and is slightly unfazed.

“Just feels like I ate something weird- lmao like that really awful Ruri-Chan collab I went to in-”

To shut him up you crank it to three.

“Ooofff! W-why does it feel like I really gotta sh*t? Is that all a period is? Feeling like you gotta run to the bathroom all the time?!”

Oh Levi, if only you REALLY knew….

You crank the simulator up to six and he screams like a baby, his scream is so high pitched it may have almost broke Henry’s fish tank….

You crank up one more level and oh goodness is he screaming even louder.

“TURN IT OFF!! TURN THE DAMN THING OFF OMG!! THIS HURTS!! OMG THIS HURTS!!!”

“That’s like- my second or third heaviest day, give or take. Sometimes it feels worse. That’s still doable but hurts.”

He will legit look at you with the face of ‘what the absolute f*ck’ while crying.

Like Mammon, will wholeheartedly d*e on the hill of “the cut” hurting less than this simulator- hell, that was wimp level compared to a period pain! Level uno!

Totally the tutorial for the game called pain.

Leviathan will want to throw hands with your uterus and will feel immense guilt realizing how he didn’t do enough for Lilith when she was still around.

“I-if anime has taught me anything t-then I um… t-then I’m gonna treat you m-much better, y/n…! W-wanna watch some anime now…?”

Please give him hugs after that simulator! He needs that desperately!

Satan

Oh he knows, he’s very well aware of how periods are painful, sometimes even more painful depending on the person.

Satan has heard of the simulator and is aware it’s supposed to be excruciating for men, however, that will probably not have any effect on him- he’s a demon. Demon males are stronger than human males-

What? Lucifer was in agony?! Lucifer caved from a mere period pain simulator?! Mammon and Levi too?! Challenge accepted.

You’ve never seen this man rip his shirt off so fast and strap on the simulator in your life. He was eager to prove he is stronger than that stupid Lucifer.

Level one? Really? Is that thing even on? This is NOTHING!

“This is easy, nothing, if this is what a period truly feels like then it’s not too unbearable. Perhaps the books were wrong.”

He eats those words immediately when you crank the simulator up to four.

“O-okay, this is uncomfortable. I feel like I seriously have to run to the men’s room… there’s nothing to release yet it feels like I have food poisoning… hhhnnnggg!!!”

You crank it up to six and he is in tears and gritting his teeth. Agony is setting in and he is digging his nails into his pillow.

“MOTHER F——”

A lot of swearing, not just modern swears, oh no, he will let out swears from the first ever civilizations and ancient peoples. If there was ever a swear word dictionary you best believe this man would have written it.

“SON OF A MOTHER [insert any swears you so wish here]”

Ok, please get one of those TV censored buttons in here. The bleep button will be going nonstop at this point…

“HOW THE [censored] CAN YOU [censored] EVEN [censored] TAKE THIS?!��

If you could tally every swear this man has said you may have filled an entire notepad by now and then some…

Please see your nearest Purgatory Hall for an angel’s blessing to your ears once this has concluded, thank you!

At seven he is still trying his absolute hardest not to break, he absolutely has to beat Lucifer, he needs to be better than him! He refuses to fail!

Please insert any swears from the 14th century here please and thank you! :3

You crank it up to eight and that is it, he is immediately caving, he yells in absolute agony into his pillow. He is sweaty and in tears.

“W-what the absolute f*ck was that?! That… the books never said it would hurt that terribly! How are you even alive, Y/N?! If it’s truly as painful as a heart attack you seriously need to take the week off!”

“Hm? A week off? Well, about that, we usually just suffer silently as we go about our days. Chocolate is a game changer truly.”

His jaw drops, he cannot begin to comprehend how the hell you are even able to walk after going through such a painful experience. Let alone how it even feels to have a full crimson waterfall for 24 hours seven days a week or less depending on the person.

“Oh and I’m also moody, nauseous, bloated, crave weird things and purposely read sad books or watch crime shows. In the mornings for some people it can mimic that of morning sickness and really make it unbearable. Fevers included.”

Watch this man begin to go through all his books to find ways to curse your uterus into never harming you again.

“Y/N…? Did I beat Lucifer? What level did he cave at?!”

You tell him he caved at seven and this man’s ego has skyrocketed. He is the most cocky man in the Devildom.

Congratulations, Y/N, you just literally made this man so full of himself he will probably not go back to normal for at least another 666 years at the least….

Asmodeus

Oh hon, he KNOWS about periods, he knows all the dirty details that come with it and literally everything about them. It’s kinda his thing.

Oh you didn’t know he tracks your cycle too? Oh hon, PLEASE, this man knows what’s up! Did you honestly think he did not know how to track these things? He helped his own little sister track hers and understand how to track them.

He’s heard of this trend going around and he can’t help but feel bad for every AFAB person who suffers period pains for real and without a simulation machine.

“Hon, you want me to try this out? Alright then~ a little pain can be fun you know~” *insert little winks and smirk*

Asmo, no, not THAT kind of pain…. *sigh*

Please don’t bonk him, he will make that hornkee jail worthy too…

He gets into some cute and comfy shorts from Victoria’s Secret and takes off his shirt. He makes sure to get on his bed so he feels at least some comfort.

Asmo is actually legitimately scared, he knows they are painful, he has seen you in agony and understands that there is undoubtedly pain in the package, he just does not know how much pain.

Can it be worse than the pain of getting his jewels busted? Definitely. Is it as painful as a heart attack? Science says yes.

He straps the stickers to his lower abdomen and braces for what happens next, he gets even more prepared by putting a pink fluffy headband on to pull his hair back in case he starts sweating… eew! Hon, no, sweat is totes gross and he cannot sweat and ruin his hair!

You turn it on and he winces, it’s not too painful, just uncomfortable. He understands this will only get worse and oh Diavolo is he bracing for impact.

“Y/N, hon, would you be a dear and hold my hand~?”

You comply hold his hand, he’s already squeezing it a little but not too tightly.

You crank it up to three and he is already wincing more and doing breathing exercises like he is a woman in labor. Admittedly, it is rather entertaining to witness…

“Oh goodness, hon, this… HHHNNNGGGGG…!!!! Oh this is certainly getting uncomfortable…”

You crank the device up to about five and he squeezes your hand tightly and lets out some swears. Sweat drips from his brow and he legit looks like he is a woman giving birth.

“Y/N, OH MY GOSH- OH F—! HHHHNNNGGGGG!!!! IT HURTS SO MUCH AND NOT THE FUN KINDA PAIN!!”

“You can do this, Asmo! You made it to level five and that’s incredible!”

“SHUSH!! OH DIAVOLO IT FEELS LIKE ITS AT TEN! AAAHHHH!!”

However….. RIP your hand and your ears as this man screams. A LOT.

The device goes to seven and he squeezes your hand even harder, honestly, you’re surprised it’s not broken.

“I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO PUSH!! OH DIAVOLO THIS IS- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!”

Push what? Nothing. Sir, you have nothing to push. You are definitely holding back your laughter as this is almost as good as the top Hollywood acting you see in films. Get this demon an award!

Breathing exercises continue and he continues to unintentionally look like he is having serious contractions and about to pop out a child- he’s not but… the simulator is doing a number on him for sure.

Don’t worry, he won’t spawn a random demon like a certain brother of his. Won’t mention any names… but… Lucifer…

You turn the device to about eight and that is it… he is done for.

His poor face is a mess with tears, some snot, and all red… give him a hug, a blanket, some chocolate, some skincare products, and a ton of kisses!!

“H-hon… how in the realms do you survive that agony?! How does anyone survive that?! Are we sure you didn’t strap a labor simulator on me?! Because if you hurt that much you are staying right here with me and I will make sure you feel incredible during your monthly visitor~”

“I feel all that along with the bloating, crimson waterfall of doom, the bizarre cravings, the mood swings, and the need to- ahem… fill in the blank…”

Say no more. This man is READY to go! Hon, you need only say the word and he is all set and ready to pounce!

“Before we do all that, hon, perhaps we can have a quick cuddle session~? I could use that after what you did to me~ and since you had your turn being in control…. Fufu~ you’ll be on the receiving end when we have our fun, love~”

Hello? 666 (Devildom’s 911)? Yes, I’d like to call an ambulance for Y/N when Asmo has finished his… yeah… Y/N may need a wheelchair…

Beelzebub

Oh? Periods? Like in Writing Class…..? No, Beel, sweetie… like the week of blood and agony.

He knows about them a little bit, he understands that there’s a super painful time for AFAB people but never knew it meant blood.

Beel remembers Lilith being very moody and hungry when she was on hers, he remembered how mad she would get if anyone touched her sweets.

He may have almost suffered a broken nose because she was really upset he ate her chocolate cupcakes and now understands that you need sugar to feel better.

Is it medicine…? Sort of, Beel, sort of like medicine, sweetie.

You have to hold his hand and explain the whole process and why it happens, he does get a bit confused but now understands why you smelled like iron those times- he just thought you are a big juicy steak and got all the juices on you somewhere.

“So you bleed for a week or a few days…? And you don’t… you know…. Go…?”

“Yes, for a a few days to a week, no biggie, it’s all part of the process. See? I’m alive, don’t look so scared, Beeley Bear!”

Give him some head pats and make sure he knows you won’t be d*ing anytime soon because of a period.

After promising to take him to a buffet for lunch he agrees to try the simulator, it truly did not take much convincing as he truly wanted to understand and also…. Food.

Beel will take off his shirt and get comfortable in a pair of workout shorts before putting the pads on his lower abdomen.

He is actually very nervous, while he can take pain and all he does actually get scared.

You switch it on to level one and he is confused, wheres the pain?

“Is this even on, Y/N…? Did I break it…? I’m sorry…”

“No you didn’t break it, Beel, this is just level one of ten.”

You crank it up to three and he is starting to feel something. Not much, but something.

“Feels like… hmm… feels like I may need to run to the little demons’ room but not too bad. Is this normal…?”

You nod and crank it up to about five and he has a hand over his belly wincing a little, he truly feels like he needs to run to he little demons’ room but knows there is nothing there.

“So all this is just the feeling of seriously needing to run to the little demons’ room…? So far so good I guess… just feels very uncomfortable. Like a tummy ache…”

“Yeah, it feels like that at times, I get it, but there is obviously more to it than feeling like you need to make a mad dash to the nearest available ‘little demons’ room’ as you put it.”

Crank it up to eight and he is legit starting to feel the pain.

“Y-Y/N… Y/N this r-really hurts now…. feels like when I ate a can of expired tomatoes from 400AD….”

Y/N, you made Beel start to cry, I truly hope you feel terrible now… he has tears in his eyes and is whimpering like a puppy.

You immediately turn it off because quite frankly seeing Beel upset was what truly did it for you.

“I’m sorry for eating your snacks during that time of the month, Y/N, for now on, you can have my custard and as many of my snacks as you want. Oh, and if you wanna go to a restaurant for lunch or something let me know! You’ll get anything!”

Beel is literally the sweetest guy ever, he will literally make sure that you get everything and more during that time of the month because you deserve it.

Belphegor

He knows a bit, not much but definitely enough, he understands that hormones play a huge part and make you an emotional mess, he also understands that there’s blood involved and that there’s weird cravings but the rest? Fill in the blanks.

He remembers Lilith being extra clingy with him when she was on her period, yes she would threaten to bite if he so much as moved the wrong way when she would hop into his bed at night.

One time Belphie made the stupid mistake of saying Lilith looked like she was ran over by a stampede one morning when she had a rude awakening with the crimson flow of doom and got slapped for it.

Like Lilith, you seem to have inherited the same attitude along with a plethora of others… lovely.

“So that’s why you’re always extra b*tchy- hormones and pain, huh? I get it, I’d be just as b*tchy if I were in your shoes- oh I can be in your shoes…?”

Belphie is a bit confused at first at what you mean, he first thought you meant a trip to Solomon to make a potion that would give him the sensation of a period but apparently not.

Oh thank goodness, gives him an excuse not to get out of bed and to remain in his pyjamas and cuddle you and his favourite pillow.

“So is it supposed to hurt or anything? If so this is weak as f—k.”

“Belphie, it’s not even on.”

“Oh… then turn it on before I consider forfeiting and taking a nap, nap time is about now- O-oh…”

Turning it on shuts him up immediately and he sits there a bit confused.

He looks mildly uncomfortable, still a bit confused as to why it’s not that bad- after all, you make it sound as if your insides are literally becoming outsides.

“That’s it? Y/N, not gonna lie, this is boring. I thought this was supposed to be painful.”

Turn the dial up to about four and he’s wincing a bit.

“O-oh sh*t… Y-Y/N I really feel like I need to run to the little demons’ room…! Hhnngg….!”

“It feels like that, doesn’t it? That feeling lasts about two to three days for me depending on flow and length of period.”

He just glares at you as you turn it up to six, he is clutching his pillow and swears just as much as Satan… he also breaks out the 14th century swears along with the first ever swear words of early civilizations.

“SON OF A [censored]! THIS [censored] [censored] HURTS LIKE A [censored]!!

That’s cute, Y/N, you thought Satan was the swear word machine. No, it’s Belphie. This boy can swear! And this little sh*t can get away with it too because he’s the youngest…

“Want to cave in, sweetie?”

“F—K NO! I WANNA BEAT LUCIFER…!”

Turn the dial up to seven and he’s starts crying loudly, this honestly hurts too much for him and it is not pleasant in the slightest.

“TURN IT OFF DAMNIT!! TURN IT OFF…!!”

He has sweat pouring from his brow and tears streaming down his face and looks like a hot mess, you immediately take the stickers off his belly and give him a huge hug.

“Y-you go through that…? Every month or so…?”

“Yes, but of course there’s blood, mood swings, cravings, waking up nauseous sometimes with a small fever, and even being bloated. Sore breasts too on occasion.”

“How the absolute f—k are you even allowed to leave the house and go about life with all that?! No, you are gonna stay with me and cuddle. No way you should have to go through that.”

Belphie will literally buy you any and all products you need from Akuzon while you cuddle because there is no way you should be made to move- well unless you need a new pad or tampon or something or to go…. But food? He will ask his twin to be the delivery guy with snacks and drinks.

“What the f—k was Father thinking when he made this? I mean- I know why it happens and all but what the f—k was his overall logic?!”

Like Lucifer, has plans of giving Father the what for with this “design flaw”.

“New prank idea- make a potion to use on Lucifer than makes him feel this pain for a week straight!”

Belphie…. No….

Belphie yes 😈

———

- Windblume

[loveesiren]

𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾

Thanos x American!reader

a/n: hi my babies! so this is my first thanos (choi su-bong) fic i'm posting. however, i kind of wrote this as an aftermath of a little series i've been working on of them in the games. so, once i am done hating it and editing it, i will posit it! but i hope you guys enjoy this cute lil fluff. i suck at writing fluff tbh but i tried! xx also, t.o.p is my gwiyomiii, my honeyyyy, my angel babyyyyyyyyy! i'm so inlove with him so feel free to send requests!

synopsis: nightmares of the games still haunt Thanos a year later, but luckily Y/n will never leave his side.

warnings: language, fluff, very brief mention of sex if you squint

wc: 1.1k+

You couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had wrapped itself around your mind ever since surviving the games last year, a constant shadow in your otherwise bright new life. You had so much to be grateful for—making it out alive, the money that had saved you in more ways than one, and, of course, Su-Bong. Though, to this day, you still called him T. Your T.

Never in a million years would you have imagined living in a sleek penthouse in downtown Seoul with a man you fell in love with while playing deadly children’s games. Yet here you were, in a world that once seemed as unreachable as a dream: Thanos’ World. And you loved it.

The games had changed Thanos in ways you never thought possible. He quit the drugs, buried his oversized ego, and spent six months holed up in his apartment with only you for company. It was a metamorphosis you never expected but cherished deeply. When he finally emerged from that cocoon of self-reflection, he returned to music—his first true love. But this time, it wasn’t about sex, drugs, and wealth. His lyrics delved into the rawness of his childhood, the pain of his struggles, the weight of his dreams—and you. Always you. You were his muse.

Being with the Thanos, however, was far from simple. Going out with him was an ordeal, a gamble. Fans flocked to him wherever he went, now more than ever, since he’d announced his new album. He once thrived on the chaos, basking in the adoration of women throwing themselves at him and men idolizing him. He was a star, and he reveled in the glow. But now? Now the attention suffocated him. He avoided crowded places as much as he could, especially when you were by his side.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show you off—God, he did. But the fear gnawed at him. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? You’d already faced your fair share of vitriol when the media leaked that Thanos was dating some American girl. “American bitch,” they’d called you, throwing their venom your way in tabloids and comment sections. But the hate didn’t break you. If anything, it hardened your resolve.

You refused to let him hide away forever. When his anxiety tried to keep him tethered to the penthouse, you were the one who dragged him out into the world. You reminded him of what life outside these walls could offer, even if it wasn’t always kind. And slowly, piece by piece, you were helping him reclaim it.

You glanced over at Thanos, his peaceful face softened by sleep, his arm draped lazily over your bare thighs. Carefully, you lifted his arm and slipped out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb him. Padding toward the kitchen, you glanced at the clock: 2:30 a.m. Another sleepless night. You sighed, the weight of endless insomnia pressing down on you.

You set the kettle to boil, deciding tea wouldn’t cut it tonight. The staleness of the room felt suffocating. What you needed was air. Before stepping out to the balcony, you peeked into the bedroom again, reassured by the steady rise and fall of Thanos’ chest.

The view of Seoul stretched before you as you stepped outside. The city pulsed with quiet energy, its lights casting a warm glow against the dark sky. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the breeze, mingling with the night air and brushing your hair across your face. This view, this life—it was something you’d never take for granted.

Pulling out your phone, you typed a quick message to Se-mi.

y/n: You up?

Minutes passed before your phone buzzed with a reply.

Se-mi: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

y/n: The insomnia is never-ending.

Se-mi: I miss when we all lived together.

Your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Memories of those first fragile weeks after escaping the games flooded your mind. The four of you—Thanos, Se-mi, Min-su, and you—crammed into your tiny apartment, clinging to each other for sanity. For weeks, you barely left the safety of those walls. Eventually, Thanos invited everyone to move in with him, but Se-mi and Min-su had decided it was time to go back to their families. The games had taught them how precious life was. That, and your shared space wasn’t exactly conducive to privacy—especially with how loud things could get between you and Thanos when you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother.

y/n: I miss it too. I miss you. Shopping tomorrow?

Se-mi: You know I hate shopping.

y/n: But you love me, and T gave me his black card.

Se-mi: Spoiled brat.

y/n: See you tomorrow 🥰

Se-mi: Can’t wait ✌🏼

You smiled at her response, warmth spreading through you at the thought of reconnecting with your best friend. But the moment of peace was shattered by a sound from inside—faint whimpers carried through the air. Your heart clenched. Setting your tea down, you hurried back to the bedroom.

“T?” you called softly as you stepped inside.

No response. Only the faint cries that sent chills down your spine. You rushed to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Thanos was thrashing slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands grasping desperately at the empty space where you should have been.

“Fuck! NO!” he suddenly screamed, his voice hoarse with panic.

“T!” you gasped, climbing onto the bed and pulling him into your arms. “T, baby…” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand found your shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist as though clinging to reality. He fought against the demons clawing at him, his breaths ragged and uneven. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused at first, until they locked onto yours. His lip quivered as shame filled his expression.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, brushing your thumb tenderly across his cheek to wipe away the tears. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Fuck…” he sighed, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His shame was palpable, but you held him tightly, cradling him as though the weight of his nightmares could be eased by your embrace.

���Another nightmare?” you asked softly. He nodded wordlessly, slipping his hand into yours. He hated these moments. Hated the way his past still haunted him, dragging you into his darkness. But you didn’t mind. You’d made a decision long ago: this man was worth every struggle, every sleepless night. Some may say a few days isn’t enough time to know who is your person, but when your life is on the line, time has a way of fast-tracking love.

“M’sorry…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, T,” you reassured him, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. “You know I’ll always be right here.”

“Promise?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

You kissed his forehead, tightening your arms around him. “Promise,” you said, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

No taglist yet but if you'd like to be added to future fics, let me know! :)

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[plasticferal]

okay so i have a little matt sturniolo request 😚

Basically the reader and matt are best friends and they’re both chilling in matts bed and the reader mentions that she has bad period cramps so matt offers to help her out (makes her 0rg@sm). i’m not sure if that’s too crazy or anything but thank you in advance if you happen to write it :)

kiss it better | matt sturniolo.

authors note: this might not be everyone's thing, it's only a little freaky, but that's what we're here for, right? consider this an apology for disappearing.

warnings: fem!reader, period, slight mention of blood, masturbation, explicit language.

matt has been fast asleep beside you since the sun went down. well, you assumed asleep. he's woken up without your knowledge at least five times due to you tossing and turning.

the sun is starting to peak through his closes blinds, and you're tangled in the sheets trying to get comfortable. you're on your final tether, about to fling up from the mattress when suddenly matt's arm drapes over your stomach, pinning you down.

"please, don't get up" he grumbles, hair covering his eyes, face nuzzled into his own pillow.

"matt," you wince, pulling his arm from where it's putting pressure on, only making it hurt more.

that action alone quickly makes him sit up, still half asleep, rubbing his eyes with concern. first that you didn't call him matty, and second that you sound anguished.

"cramps" is all you let out before curling your body into itself.

"is that why you've kept me up?"

“i’m sorry” you whine, sounding like you’re about to cry, but the tone is coming from your discomfort.

“i was teasing, y/n. i’m sorry” matt sits up as you lay next to him, and gently starts caressing the crown of your head.

he usually plays with your hair whenever he’s in distress, so it being a way of comforting you is a change. matt isn’t touchy feely with anyone beside you.

"want me to kiss it better?" he adds, making you chuckle as you melt into your best friends touch.

“that might help, honestly. nothing else is working” you joke back.

matt, however, was not kidding.

“okay” he replies.

he’s watched you take ibuprofen every two hours, use a heat pack, support yourself with a pillow, contort yourself into unbelievable positions trying to get situated in a spot that makes you ache less. so, if this is the last resort, he’s not taking it lightly.

“what?” you look up at him through your eyelashes, playing with the loose threads of his burgundy silk sheets.

“i will” he reassures.

he shuffles his body further down the bed, sliding past yours. his palm rests on the curve of your knee, over the sheets, and pushes it down, forcing you to lay flat.

“if that’s okay with you” he glides down further, stomach pressed to the mattress as his face nears your stomach.

“i hate seeing you in pain” he adds on.

your lack of rebuttal isn’t enough of a green light, so he looks up at you from your hip, gently grazing the tips of his fingers on the hem of your shirt.

it could be the hormones, but any touch at all from matt feels unorthodox in this moment. you’re clenching through your sweatpants, chills covering your body.

a wave of insecurity rushes over you. it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before, but he hasn’t truly seen you. every emotion and feeling is heightened as you nod, and he lifts up your shirt exposing your naval.

“right here?” he grins, and your chest is rising and falling with worn, deep breaths.

“right there” you watch him intently.

“m’kay” he lowers his mouth onto your exposed skin.

his lips are warm as he presses a slow, short kiss just below your bellybutton. you’re almost positive he can feel the goosebumps rising. he trails another kiss along your lower stomach, narrowly edging your pelvic lines.

unintentionally, your breath hitches, making a small gasp part your lips.

“y’like that, huh?” matt perks up, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“get back up here, oh my god” you erupt into laughter, trying to conceal any hint of shame.

“alright alright” he mumbles almost disgruntled, pushing himself up like he’s doing a push up then dropping back to your side.

“did that help, pumpkin? does your tummy feel better?” he teases, scooting closer to you and taking your head on his lap, so you can use his lower half like a body pillow to curl into.

you slap his leg, telling him to stop being such a smartass.

“it does not, but thank you for trying” you tiredly exhale a yawn, and he starts rubbing the back your neck comfortingly.

“so, what will actually help?” you can envision the sincere concentration on his face when he asks, all the curiosities running through his mind about what’s going on in your body.

matthew doesn’t believe that curiosity killed the cat, he's adamant ignorance did. meaning, he’s on a need-to-know basis for everything about you. anyone else, he couldn’t care less.

“well actually, what you were doing, but, ah” you ramble.

“but?” he pushes.

“but… lower?” you grimace at your choice of words, feeling matt almost stop breathing under you.

“oh” he speak in a “ah-huh” tone.

“maybe not exactly that, but along those lines” you continue.

“d-did you want me to, keep goin-”

“matthew!” you almost screech, sitting up abruptly with shock painted on your face.

“what? you suggested it!” he throws his arms in defence.

“you asked me a question!” you throw back.

“yeah okay and, y’know, you implied…”

“oh no” you shove your hands in your face, then into the pillow, hoping to suffocate in the process.

you could vanish at the thought of looking him in the eye again.

“hey now, don’t be silly” matt grabs your wrists in his strong, much stronger, grasp, restricting you from hiding again.

“i was just trying to educate you” you frown, and he scoffs.

“i’m more of a hands-on learner” he flashes a cocky grin and narrowed eyes, playing into your humiliation.

your jaw slacks open, dumbfounded by his blasé demeanour.

“you wouldn’t know what to do if it was served to you on a silver platter” you wrestle in his grip, and it’s officially war.

“take that back” his eyes are laser focused on yours now, and you’re trying not to crack a smile.

“no” you refuse.

matt grabs your wrists, using his legs to flip you over. he straddles your thighs, pinning you down.

“let me show you then” he sounds slightly out of breath, licking his bottom lip as he looks down at you.

“even if i wanted to entertain that idea, i’m still on my period, in case you forgot”

“what’s the point of having a sword if you can’t get a little blood on it?”

“matthew bernard, that was foul” you kick his stomach lightly, just enough to tackle him out of keeping you held down.

you grab a pillow and start to pelt him with it, and he’s erupting into laughter.

“okay, okay! enough, i’m sorry” he takes control of the pillow and tosses it across the room, knocking into a framed photo on the wall, but he doesn’t care. he’s fixated on you.

“there’s gotta be something we can do to settle this” he adds on as you admit defeat.

"what are you willing to do?" you scrunch your face.

"whatever you want"

your mind has been made up. you sit cross legged next to him, huffing stray hairs from your eyes, probably looking a mess.

“there is one way i can think of” you ponder, trying to see if he’s being serious or just shit-stirring. if he wants to play with your feelings, now is not the time.

“if it’s gonna help you, i will” matt leans against his headboard, putting the ball in your court.

you crawl, slowly, once again next to matt. you mirror his positioning, perched up against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder with him. your breathing slows, and matt raises an eyebrows. he's waiting for you.

“if you mean it, give me your hand” you put your own out, and wait for him to take it.

almost too quickly, he does. you envelop his warm, thick fingers in yours and guide his hand between your legs, over your sweatpants. you can hear matt's breath more prominent in your ear, as his jaw slacks open, and eyes follow your guidance.

he presses his palm into your crotch, and curls his fingers as though to penetrate but is restricted by the fabric. you're trying to be tame, but you feel yourself building up with pressure with every passing second.

"this is gonna work?" matt's voice is soft, curious.

"rub" you exhale sharply, and matt's chin is now resting on your shoulder to get a better position.

he obeys within a second, and focuses on moving the fabric in circles as you jive your hips to sync up with him. you know with the friction alone, and concentrating hard enough, you could probably build up an orgasm.

matt's breath shudders as his index and middle finger manoeuvre around your clothed cunt, trying to wiggle your panties underneath to feel between your slit.

he can tell by the way your eyes flutter shut, that you're relying solely on your own focus to make his touch worth it.

matt stops, making your eyes flash open, but his hand doesn't move very far. he begins to slide underneath your sweatpants, and you're inches away from aborting mission.

"let me, y/n” he persists, using his free hand to wrap around your waist and keep you in place.

“matty, we're gonna make a mess” you worry, but there's not a care in the world from the boy beside you.

“shut up" he breathes out, inching closer to your heat.

he slides under your panties, and your eyes shut again, trying to completely detach. even though you're not bleeding heavy enough, yet, you know how unpredictable it can be.

your muscles tense the second he makes contact between your folds, rubbing gently. you're soaked, clit throbbing, and clenching your walls with a pulsating rhythm.

matt digs his fingers into your hip more, and you're wondering if he's truly getting any enjoyment out of pleasuring you.

the tips of fingers between your legs hover over your entry, and you're clawing into the sheets.

"can i?" matt's lip brushes the curve of your ear, and you nod. matt pushes his index finger inside of you, using his thumb to circle your sensitive clit.

the moment he thrusts in and out of you, his lips attach at your neck making you jolt in shock. you tilt your head to the side to give him more access as he nips and sucks on your neck.

"keep going?" he asks.

you whimper a yes, and feel him smirk.

fucking his fingers in and out of you at an increasingly rapid pace has you arching your back, forcing matt to go along with your movements, trying to keep up.

"m-matt" you toss your hips, feeling your vulnerability increase, about to shatter.

"fuck" his voice drops an octave, concentration at all time high as he focuses completely on your clit again. he rubs fast, consistent motions over and over and over until the build up becomes undeniable.

"i-i'm gonna" you shake, as matt rubs faster, feeling a burning through your core until finally you release.

"sh-shit" you're a mess, mentally and physically.

you've already forgotten the touch is coming from your best friend, who after this, you're unsure he'll fall under that title. if he even wants to stick around after feeling around your insides and watching you moan his name.

you settle after your high falls while matt gently, slowly, pulls his hand from your pants. you slump against his bed again, regaining your concept of reality while matt grabs tissues from his bedside table and cleans off his fingers.

"so?" he asks, a smugness exuding from one single word.

"i feel better" you sound disoriented, but are overly aware that at any moment he could change his feelings.

"i'm sure you do" he kisses your temple, and you're filled with nerves once again.

"how are you so... calm?" you ask, resting your head onto his shoulder, confining in him still being your safe person, even if the topic of concern is himself.

"i told you i wanted to, y/n" he replies, stern.

"we're just not gonna tell anyone about this" your mouth moves fast.

"no, we're not. but i wouldn't mind doing it again" he shrugs, and you're back to being content, snorting inwardly.

that's when you know, there's no part of him that's strayed from being your best friend. he's all about you. even in this critical, brain chemistry altering event.

maybe except for the fact you can definitely see his dick outlining his grey sweats more prominently than before. but that's a topic for another day.

"you're a freak" you laugh softly.

"for you? yeah"

tag list:

@luverboychris @floofparker  @fake-sturniolos @recklessmatt  @teampurpleforlife @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @whore4mattsturniolo @sturniololuv08 @nickysturnss @slutformatt111 @rootbeerworshiper @st7rnioioss-alt @issysh3ll

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day Two - Chorb/Comfort

After over three decades as ghosts, you would think that Charles and Edwin would have a good grasp on what ghosts can and can’t do, or even what ghosts could or couldn’t feel, so, etc. Like, ghosts can eat, but it tastes awful. Ghosts can’t sleep at all. That sort of thing. Edwin called them “ghost rules”. Charles also called them ghost rules, but he did his best not to talk about them at all unless directly asked. He’d opened up about missing being alive and all that baggage, yeah, but no need to poke at it, alright?

But lately they’d discovered a new ghost “rule” (ability? Function? Who knows) completely on accident. You see, after the entire fiasco with Esther (and the following quest to get Niko back) the boys had been, frankly, exhausted. They’d done a lot in their thirty years but never so much in so little time. It was weird, to say the least.

“Are you guys sure you’re okay? We can stick around—“ Crystal had tried as they all but herded the girls out of the office. It was past midnight and they should’ve left hours ago, but the boys must look especially bad if their looks were anything to go by.

However, this exhaustion was wearing on the boy’s patience (well, Edwin’s, but Charles had to mediate so it was getting to him too) and frankly, they needed a break. Charles was happy to say as much.

“Nope, all good here! In fact, I think we’ve all earned some time off, so maybe take the next few days to rest, yeah? You sure you don’t want us to walk with you to the tube?” Even his face hurt from smiling, which hasn’t happened since long before he died. There was an alarm bell in the back of his head, but he felt too exhausted to have a proper look at it. He just needed a break is all.

The girls shared a look again. Is this how people felt when he and Edwin did that? Charles didn’t realise it was so annoying.

“We’ll be fine. You have my number right? If anything happens?” Crystal pulled on her coat and helped Niko with her accidentally inside-out sleeve, “And you’re sure that ancient landline even works?”

“As I’ve said, the phone was enchanted to work even without electricity. Barring extremely dire circumstances, it works.” Edwin snapped, lighter than his proper angry tone but still on the edge.

“Do you want us to call you before coming back?” Niko asked towards Edwin, but with a significant, pointed glance at Charles. Charles knew there was something in that look, too, but thinking felt a little difficult at the minute. His head kinda felt like the jar of bees. Maybe he should fish it out of the backpack to compare.

Edwin replied to Niko kinder than he’d been with Crystal but not by much. Crystal snapped at him, probably about his tone with Niko, and then those two were arguing again. Charles really should break it up so the girls could get back to their flat.

God, was this a migraine? Could ghosts get migraines? It’d be just his luck, too. Was there ghost paracetamol he could take? He’d have to dry swallow it since the drink would taste like sand—

There was a hand waving in front of his face. Someone grabbed his arm and shook him. Suddenly Edwin grabbed him by the shoulders, staring him down intently. He was saying something, too. Charles moved to smile and nod, even as he had no idea what was going on, but that seemed to make the pain spike again. He flinched against it. He crossed his arms across himself, though he couldn’t say why. Comfort? Warmth? Guess it didn’t matter much, really.

Several sets of hands were pushing him somewhere—oh, the sofa, right. That seemed like a good idea. Weren’t the girls going somewhere? Or supposed to be, at least. He assumed they were some of the other hands pushing and pulling him along.

He landed on the sofa with little grace, the bouncing making something pulse in his brain is a not nice way. Edwin was there again, hands on Charles’s cheeks and forehead as if checking for fever. It was silly—surely ghosts couldn’t get fevers, if they didn’t have bodies. Edwin knows that.

They were talking to him again. It sounded like he was underwater, sound carrying but only barely. Oh, right. Ghosts weren’t supposed to have whatever was happening now, either. That would explain Edwin’s furious note taking and fussing. Niko was up and about helping him, which meant Crystal had to be the one next to him. Turning his head felt like a bad idea, so he was glad they only had so many people in the vicinity. Process of elimination and all that.

Pain struck at his abdomen next, dull ache turning stabbing in the matter of minutes. He curled in on himself, bringing his feet up onto the sofa and his knees to his face. Clutching at his stomach, Charles squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead into his knees. Maybe if he just curled up tight enough—

It was like his ears popped and every joint cracked at the same time. Charles was pretty sure it was an audible pop! too. But suddenly everything was peaceful, like he was stretched out and condensed into the best full-body hug at the same time. The world was a warm yellow, bright but comfortable. Sure he couldn’t see his friends anymore, but it was blessed relief from whatever the bloody hell that pain was and Charles was absolutely going to bask in it.

After a minute or two of adjusting, Charles realised he could almost hear what was happening in the office. Crystal and Edwin were fighting again, though now Niko seemed to be— cooing over something? Muttering reassurances? He couldn’t catch all the words, but he was pretty sure that was her “finding a literal creature and/or inanimate object adorable” voice. Who/what was she talking to? Shouldn’t she be splitting up the other two? Actually, weren’t the girls supposed to be heading home?

He wanted to ask all of that, but this blissful state didn’t grant him the power of speech, apparently. Charles’s questions came out as a humming noise instead. Surely this should be worrying him—no sight, no speech, hell he’s pretty sure no body—but it was hard to feel worried, or frustrated, or sad here. He felt so good, why would he ruin it with all that? Besides, taking a step back and being relieved of his headache gave him the chance to carefully consider what had just happened.

And he would do that. Definitely. At some point. Look, this was probably the closest he’d gotten to sleep in over thirty years, you can’t blame him for wanting to bask in it for a while, alright? Just a little bit, so Edwin doesn’t kill Crystal (or Crystal somehow double kills Edwin). A bit of rest then he’d figure out how to go back.

~

When Charles “popped” again, returning to the mortal plane or whatever, it was to a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the office, wood burning stove lit and his three best friends circled around him. Thankfully they left him enough room to not pop on top of someone.

The girls were asleep, but Edwin was instantly focused on Charles. He went so far as to scurry forward, kneeling between Charles’s flailed legs to, again nonsensically, press at his face for a fever that wasn’t there.

“Charles, you’re back! Are you alright? Do you know what happened? Lord, I— we were worried.” Edwin admitted, dropping his hands and rocking back on his heals to create a smidge more distance.

Charles, genuinely smiling this time, decided he wasn’t a fan of this embarrassment or shame or whatever it was Edwin was dealing with. So, naturally, he leaned forward and threw his arms around his best mate.

“Oh, mate, it was brills…”

—

Day two of @charles-rowland-week !! I am vvvvv sleepy rn so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t 😌 hope y’all enjoyed!

[flo-zoinks]

how do you think all the male gang members would react to getting kicked in the balls? 😭 (rdr2 can see linde gang, to be specific :)

My followers are ALLERGIC to normal asks but I like it so okay my love ❤🤗

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU KICKED EVERY RDR2 GANG MEMBER IN THE BALLS (MY OPINION)

Again here we are going to assume you're someone like John in terms of gender, age and general reputation in camp as the reactions will differ greatly by those factors

These might be a little unrealistic as I do not own a penis!

Arthur - goes like ARGH SHIT then tries to look intimidating like he's gonna hurt you back but won't actually - more of a warning

Dutch - immediately curses for a good 10 seconds, then when ok enough to move goes to punch you out of camp, then demands to be cared for like he got shot by Molly

Pearson - fights back tears, (wins), then slams his kitchen knife into his counter and throws a spoon at you shouting like "GO AWAY". Says later in the fireplace he was just giving you time to run away

Javier - "CHINGUE SU MADRE" winces a little, then tries to play off nonchalantly. Probably straight up punches you and if you fall he spits on your head

John - "ShhiiIIT" literally nearly falls over, then shoves you onto the floor when he can with an insult after. Leaves camp for a day after out of anger for your actions then Abigail is telling you off for maybe causing V2 of when he left for a year

Jack (1914) - same as John at the start, but probably more inclined to aim a gun at you instead.

Hosea - DOES fall over, then when he gets up grabs your ear to the outskirt of camp similar to Miss Grimshaw where he throws you out with a kick too

Charles - grunts really loudly and is close to swearing, but doesn't and instead tells you off whilst in a lot of pain. Calls you insufferable too

Sean - KICKS YOU BACK. REAL HARD. "FUCK YOU TOO". But in the exact moment just asks what he did wrong to you cuz what the devil

Lenny - is about to punch you back, but instead just shoves you to the side as he walks on (after shouting what the hell is your problem). Tries to be the bigger man

Uncle - falls down the the ground, but doesn't get up and instead choosing to stay there cursing you out. He's quite sassy with it despite all

Kieran - Assumes again it's because hes an O'Driscoll and tells you/all of the camp to plss stop 😭. Goes back to the outskirts of camp to tend to the horses and if you two are ok months later brings it up saying atleast it was better then the gelding tongs courtesy of Bill. However like before all the other men and Sadie/Karen applaude your actions to Kieran

Trelawny - buckles over, then tries to regain his composure to remain gentlemanly. But then says "my goodness, what is that behind you?" And whilst you expect it to be a magic trick he just kicks you back in the balls

Micah - "fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.." "I been trying so hard to along with you what is this for" "I'm not one of those gays my balls were none of your buisness" OR "YOU DAMN (slur) AGH" if there is a slur 'applicable' to you

Reverend (chap 1-4) - immediately folds to the floor in baby position about to swoon to sooth himself. Then forgives you quickly realising it's a good excuse to pump himself full of substances to "help" the pain subside.

Bill - "AGH SHIT YOU LITTLE...SHIT" Tries to spit on your face and then wobbles back to camp. Later pretends like it was just a little itch he wasn't really affected by it, yet still tries to threaten you at the table to "feel more masculine and powerful"

Thanks for asking me !!! ❤❤

[pupholez]

thinking about a partner haunting you after they pass away to make sure you never move on.....

thinking about them only having enough energy to linger at first but not really show signs of their presence, where maybe you just feel them a little or maybe dream of them but can't see them or interact... untilll you decide it's been enough time and you've done enough progress to start trying to date again. or at least get out and meet new people. and then suddenly your ghostly lover has a newly found energy at it's disposal and rage. who cares how long it's been? you're theirs. always. you were just going to do it right in front of them? fuck that.

that's when you start to notice things are weird. you can't find your keys before your date, can't find the cute underwear you laid out, can't find your phone to even let them know. but that's only the beginning- then comes the sleep paralysis. days spent too exhausted to hang out with anyone because all your nights are spent waking up petrified, feeling uncomfortably full and sensitive but unable to do anything but lay there and feel the invisible intrusions and let the out the littlest moans. you start to joke with your friends that you're in a friends with benefits relationship with your sleep paralysis demon. this only angers your poltergeist lover more however for daring to imply anyone else knew how to make you feel that good but them. so that night they made sure you knew.

when you woke up this time, it felt different. you could open your eyes, but everything was still dark. you were on your back. your assailant was already inside of you, as per usual, but had it blindfolded you? it was pitch black. next thing you realized is it was cold. like, uncomfortably cold. then it was what you heard. wind. leaves rustling. were you... before you had time to process it, you felt abruptly empty. was it over? could you move? you blinked a couple times and tried to move your toes when you felt the intrusion again. but this time, it hurt. this wasn't you were used to. then again. then again. it felt like pencils were being shoved inside of your poor hole, but you still couldn't move, still couldn't look down to see what was happening. and again. and again. and again. you counted twelve. you were crying now from the pain and confusion. you were entirely helpless to seemingly nothing in front of you. after the twelth, everything seemed to stop for a moment aside from the whispers of wind that almost sounded like moans if you listened hard enough. all you could do was lay there with your thoughts and feel it.

eventually you wake back up not even realizing you'd fallen asleep. the sun's coming up. you can move again. you hurt. you turn your head and see your clothes neatly stacked next to you, along with your phone and keys. you feel an uncomfortable sting and you look down. are those..? you reach down and touch, only to be met with something soft and velvety. appalled and confused, you yank it out and realize in horror what was inside of you.

you were holding crushed flowers in your hands.

frantically, you pull everything out of you only to realize it was an entire bouquet.

a familiar bouquet.

you bought this bouquet two days ago.

you sit up, and for the first time fully realize where you are.

at your feet is the gravestone you've visited a million times. only something catches your eye. on top of the stone, newly scratched in, simply said,

"mine. always."