#it's a little longer than expected but oh well

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

I Could Give You A Ride

✰ summary: would you want to give a ride to a bartender you randomly meet at a bar? oh, i think you do. but don't forget, it could end earlier than you expect!

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (bartender!choso x fem!reader, alcohol use, mature language, drunk reader, kissing, neck kissing, tit sucking, reader is riding choso's fingers, quick ending because of choso's excitement lol)

✰ a little note: i originally planned a completely different ending, but i ended it in another way with this silly and funny idea that came to mind. i love my cute emo boy Choso <3

✰ word count: 3.4k

I guess it was about time.

Yes, it was definitely time, because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself back. Watching like a creep wasn’t an option anymore; you had to take action. That way, you could confirm your certification as an official creep.

But every time you hyped yourself up, telling yourself “I’m doing it now!” your enthusiasm would fizzle out, and you’d return to sipping your drink.

Why had you even come here in the first place?

After a long work week, you definitely deserved a drink. And, as luck would have it, the handsome and sweet bartender came as a bonus with great cocktails.

Sitting in the right corner of the wide bar, nursing your fourth mojito, and sneaking glances at the bartender, you couldn’t help the unnecessary fluttering inside you. It had all started last week when one of your close girlfriends discovered this place. It might’ve been a bit too quiet for a girls’ night out, but as long as you were gossiping, nothing else mattered.

One of your friends had been mid-sip when she suddenly froze, pointing toward the handsome bartender making drinks at the counter. You, along with the rest of your friends, had turned to stare, mouths agape, as he shook the cocktail shaker like a pro.

“Oh my God… I wish he’d shake me like that,” your friend had blurted.

Eyes still glued to the emo bartender behind the bar, you’d replied, “Since when are emos this hot?”

The shock of your words had been enough to grab all your friends’ attention because it had been ages since you’d expressed interest in anyone.

“I knew there was still hope! Finally, someone’s got you wet,” one of them teased.

Rolling your eyes, you’d shot back, “Girls I only said he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he can be as cute and attractive as he wants, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to sleep with. Can we stop being creeps and get back to our girls’ night?”

Despite their reluctance, they’d agreed, and the evening had continued.

Of course, you wanted to sleep with him. That feeling had been there from the moment you first saw him. Ever since that girls’ night, all you could think about was that bartender going down on you, giving you orgasms over and over again.

As you racked your brain over how to return to this bar, you finally gave in to temptation and dragged yourself here on a Friday as a well-earned reward.

Sure, you wanted to see the hot emo bartender again, but the cocktail you were sipping was a nice bonus.

When you walked in, there had been empty tables around, but you’d chosen a seat at the bar instead. After all, you’d come here for one reason.

When you locked eyes with the bartender, he smiled at you and walked over, politely asking what you’d like. After ordering your mojito, you’d watched him intently as he prepared it.

The way he precisely measured the ingredients and poured them into the shaker, the way his tattooed, muscular arms flexed as he shook it—it had you pressing your thighs together, trying (and failing) to ease the ache between your legs.

Apparently, emos could be insanely attractive.

Lost in your admiration of the hot bartender, you’d snapped out of it when he placed your finished cocktail in front of you. Your eyes darted from the drink to him, noticing the self-assured smirk on his face as if he knew you’d been ogling him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you’d managed a flustered thank you before taking a sip. His smirk had only widened as he walked back to the center of the bar to prepare another drink.

The pattern repeated itself after that. You’d raise your empty glass for another order, he’d collect it with a smile, and you’d shamelessly ogle him as he made an even better mojito than the last.

How long could this go on? You weren’t sure. You wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, but the fear of rejection kept holding you back. It didn’t help that you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in ages, so your confidence was shot. Besides, he was working. Why would he stop everything to chat with you? It felt ridiculous.

Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. Or maybe you were just lying to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stared at the remnants of your mojito when a small shadow appeared in front of you. Lifting your head, you found yourself staring into a pair of beautifully lined eyes.

His face held a mix of a smile and an inquisitive expression, as if he were trying to figure you out. The woody scent of his cologne surrounded you, and whether it was the alcohol or not, the sight of his tattooed forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves made him look extra tempting.

Had they been this good the first time you saw him? Oh, absolutely.

You wanted to take back everything you’d said last week because you definitely wanted to fuck him now.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

You stood there speechless, continuing to stare at the bartender you found so attractive. When you finally managed to collect your words and decided to speak, you answered in a soft voice, “Uhmm, I don’t know.”

He laughed sincerely at your response. He’d smiled at you before, but hearing him chuckle like this stirred a completely different feeling inside you.

“Usually, people on their sixth drink are in party mode, but for you, it seems to be causing depression.”

You were never someone whose mood dropped when drinking. On the contrary, you became more cheerful and energetic. And yet, here you were, struggling not to press your lips against this emo bartender’s—

Wait. Did he say sixth drink? Because you were pretty sure you were just about to finish your fourth.

With a puzzled expression, you asked, “Sixth drink?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re on your sixth one now.”

Shit. There was no way you were drunk. Who even gets drunk on cocktails? Sure, six might be a bit much, but you’d definitely had more before.

Covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, you tried to process what had just happened. But that warm, masculine chuckle reached your ears again, and you slowly pulled your hands away to look at him.

“I should’ve stopped you after your fourth. I noticed your eyes starting to droop a little,” he said, his face showing a hint of concern. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Normally, I’m a pretty resilient drinker.”

“Sure, I can see that,” he teased, his tone playful and a little mocking.

His words stung a little, so you frowned and tried to prove your point. “I’m serious. I could have six glasses of whiskey and still be perfectly fine.”

Determined to show him you were still steady, you attempted to stand up—only to stumble slightly, prompting the sexy bartender to reach out and steady you.

His long, veiny arms reached across the bar to catch you, holding you firmly. And wow, how many tattoos did this man have?

“Jesus, you scared me, sweetheart.”

Plenty of people had called you “sweetheart” before, but you weren’t sure anyone had ever said it as beautifully as he just did.

“Your voice is so… soft.” You weren’t sure why you said that. You probably should’ve just thanked him for catching you, but instead, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

“If you sit back down on the stool, I can talk to you more. What do you say?”

Within a second, your drunk self processed his words and obediently sat back on the stool. All for the sake of hearing that soft, beautiful voice again.

“Okay, you can talk now, emo boy.”

“Huh! So you’ve already given me a nickname,” he said, leaning on the bar as he got closer to you. “Tell me, did you come up with it while secretly staring at me all this time?”

Well, so you weren’t a secret creep. Apparently, you were a very obvious one. At least that made you a little less terrifying. You felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know how he’d noticed you watching him, but in your drunken state, you gave the best response you could muster.

“Guess I’m not the only creep who likes staring at people.”

The handsome bartender’s cheeks flushed at your remark, and you let out a small laugh. There was nothing cuter than a flustered guy.

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“What can I say? I love making handsome bartenders blush when I’m drunk.” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, gently caressing them. It felt like you were touching the softest thing in the world. He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your touch. But then his sharp voice broke the moment. “If you keep this up, I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck you so hard that make you scream loud enough to scare off all the customers.”

Your eyes widened in shock. That had to be your drunk mind playing tricks on you. There was no way he’d actually said that. You were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you said, as if to reassure yourself of the truth.

“Okay?” he repeated, confused.

“I accept, emo boy.”

He let out a sweet laugh. “You accept me bending you over the bar and fucking you until you scream?”

“Uh-huh, exactly that.”

“I only said it so you’d sober up and realize what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

A small pang of disappointment hit you. No, scratch that—it was a huge pang of disappointment. For a second, you’d hoped he meant it, that he actually wanted you.

Sure, he could make amazing cocktails, but if he didn’t take the number-one bartender rule—never play with drunk customers—seriously, then he clearly wasn’t taking his job seriously either.

“Uh, I see. I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice low as you averted your gaze to the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“Shit, I—look, it’s 11:30 right now, and we close in half an hour. I can’t let you go home alone in this state, so please—”

You interrupted him, your tone tinged with irritation. “That’s not necessary. I can handle myself.” You pulled out your wallet, placed some money on the counter, and said, “The drinks were great. Have a good night.”

Fueled by your disappointment, you sobered up just enough to stand without stumbling and made your way to the exit.

But before you could leave, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning around, you locked eyes with the “cute, handsome, and deceitful bartender.” He looked at you with a sorrowful expression, like a wounded deer. He knew full well he’d hurt you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh and began to apologize for your unnecessary outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and overreacting to everything. There was nothing wrong with what you said. I’m just a regular customer, and honestly, I shouldn’t have touched you like that in the first place. I’m really—”

“Please let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. I can’t let you go like this on your own.”

How could you say no to that? He looked like a sad puppy, waiting for your forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to storm off and leave, deep down, the thought of being out alone at this hour scared you.

“Waiting half an hour wouldn’t hurt,” you said, offering him a small smile.

The bartender seemed to understand that you’d let go of your anger, and he returned your smile. He guided you to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area and promised to finish up quickly so he could join you.

The seats were much softer here. Sure, you’d endured the hard barstool for the handsome bartender, but this felt like heaven. Setting your bag beside you and leaning back, you closed your eyes. You told yourself you’d just rest them for a moment. But you didn’t realize when sleep took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you woke up, your eyes opened easily. The bar was dimly lit, with only a faint glow above the counter. The customers had left, and the handsome bartender was sitting on one of the stools, engrossed in his phone.

Why hadn’t he woken you up?

As you got up and walked toward him, he looked up from his phone and turned his gaze to you. That beautiful smile, which suited him so well, appeared on his face.

“Hey, you’re awake. I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you could use the rest to sober up. Feeling better?”

He didn’t have to be this sweet. You silently swore to yourself that you’d never come here again, but his kindness only made you like him even more.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let out everything you’d been holding inside. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I saw you last week. I came here today, using the excuse of treating myself, just to come here and see you again. I’m not good at this, and it makes me really nervous. You made it clear you’re not interested, but I still wanted to tell you how I feel, even if I never get to see you again.” By the time you finished speaking, you realized you were out of breath. You had blurted everything out in one go. You might’ve embarrassed yourself further, but at least you felt relieved.

“So, you’re saying you’re a professional creep?” His tone was anything but serious, and when you looked at him, you noticed the barely contained laughter on his face.

You started laughing, a mix of nerves and amusement, and nodded. Pulling your phone from your bag, you checked the time—12:30 AM.

“It’s late; I should—Hmph.” Your words were cut off by his lips pressing against yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d been interrupted tonight by him, but if all interruptions were like this, you’d gladly welcome them.

You dropped your phone and bag to the floor, letting your hands find their way to his long, black hair. The man in front of you kissed you with passion—not rushed, but deliberate, as if he’d been craving your lips all night.

When he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to carry you to the bar counter. His lips tasted of mint and strawberry.

Alright, you definitely needed to ask him about that lip balm later.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, you managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”

His light-colored eyes, framed by black eyeliner, stared at you guiltily. “Since the moment you sat on that stool, all I’ve wanted was to taste your lips.” His fingers brushed over your lips gently. “So fucking full and soft. I know the rest of you is just like this, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in to kiss you again, you stopped him, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the moment you saw him. “Are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you planning to keep the mystery alive?”

He kissed you softly before pulling back. “Choso.”

“Hmmm, do you know what I’m thinking right now, Choso?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

“You’re going to give me a ride home tonight, but in return, I want to ride you too.”

His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, you could see his cheeks flush. For someone who looked so tough, he was surprisingly shy. Leaning into his ear, you whispered, “Will you let me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his earlier dominance now replaced with a more submissive tone.

“Then take me to the lounge area, Choso.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Choso carried you to the lounge. As he walked, you placed wet kisses along his neck, occasionally nibbling his skin, which earned soft groans from him.

When he sat down on the couch, he placed you on his lap. His hands found your breasts, kneading them gently, while his lips latched onto your neck. You weren’t sure which of his actions was more pleasurable—the way his lips sucked on the sensitive spots of your neck, or the way his fingers teased your nipples through your clothes.

Why choose when you could have both?

“Shit—Choso, this feels so good. Please… I don’t just want your fingers,” you moaned eagerly.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at your top.

“Yes, please.”

The moment he got your top off, leaving you bare before him, his hands stilled, and he stared at your breasts. He looked like a child who had finally gotten the toy they’d been dreaming of, his mouth slightly open in awe. Slowly, he lowered his head to your right breast, placing soft kisses around it.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely *smooch* perfect *smooch* and *smooch* so soft.”

After kissing all around your breast, he let his tongue flick over your nipple. When your moan filled the room, he glanced up at you and licked it again, this time keeping his gaze locked with yours. Once he broke eye contact, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

“Oh, God, Choso—fuck, fuck… they’re so sensitive,” you whimpered. The way he suckled your nipple made you feel like you might lose your mind. When his fingers found your other nipple and began teasing it, you arched your back and tangled your hands in his hair, silently begging for this to never end.

“Choso—I’m—I’m—”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice breathless. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come just from sucking on your tits.”

“Do you want me to suck your—”

He placed a wet kiss between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you. I just want to make you feel good.”

His hands slipped under your skirt, tugging your black thong down your hips before his fingers brushed along your slick folds.

“Choso—ugh, please, just put them in,” you begged.

Obliging, he slid one finger inside you, pumping slowly at first.

His long, thick finger found your G-spot almost immediately, pressing against it in just the right way. As your moans grew louder, he added a second finger and increased his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with more urgency.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight. If I fuck this pussy, I’ll come in two seconds,” he muttered, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Ahhh, Choso, right there—right—UGHH CHOSO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You cried out as his teeth gently bit down on your other nipple. Your hands found his hair again as you whimpered, “More—I want more.”

Noticing the way your hips bucked to meet his movements, Choso chuckled against your skin. “I think—I think I’m falling for you. I’ve never seen a pussy this—fuck—this wet before.”

“It’s all for you, Choso. Just—just keep going, and I’m going to—ughhh.”

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Choso let out a low growl, swearing under his breath as your hips stilled. He gently pumped his fingers inside you a few more times before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking up every drop of your release.

As you lay there catching your breath, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shy, muffled voice.

“Uh, um… can we take a little break?”

Though you didn’t know why, you nodded understandingly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed. “You—you didn’t notice?”

Laughing at how adorably flustered he looked, you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Notice what, emo boy? If it’s about how good you fingered me, I think we both know how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not it…”

Now you were genuinely concerned. “Choso, I don’t understand. What happened?”

Avoiding your gaze, he glanced around the room before finally meeting your eyes with a resigned sigh. “I… I came, too.”

“Oh…”

Alright. You hadn’t noticed that.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, you burst into laughter, making his embarrassment even worse. Determined to make it up to him, you gave him the best blowjob of his life.

And then, as promised, you rode him until you were both drenched in sweat, your moans echoing loud enough for anyone outside to hear.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

choso kamo art by @yappdoll on X.

[yourstrulysylus]

No Defense Zone (a Sylus point of view)

Sylus was walking down towards his kitchen to grab a drink after an intense training at his personal boxing gym. The twins were on a special assignment and was gone for a week - the house is silent it was usually filled with noise of laughter and pranks while they were around her. Not that he didn’t mind its what he’s been waiting his whole life.

“Sylus..”

Sylus stopped his tracks since he heard his name being called out somewhere in the living room he also heard it in a way that he had not been expecting and he knew that sound all too well.

He saw her sleeping on their couch tired because she had another book resting on top of her watching her read was one of his simple guilty pleasures in life because after when she immerses herself in a new book the whole day, she comes to his study unannounced grabs him by the collar of his shirt out of nowhere and make endless love all night in their shared bedroom - that’s where he knew that she was reading one of those books.

Her moans continued to echo in their living room she had her favorite fluffy blanket at the end of her feet. Wearing her favorite white sunny dress that looses at the middle of her thighs lounging on a huge pillow that he bought with her little plushie crow.

He was standing a few feet away from the couch carefully not to wake her up. Hearing her moan like that sent a surge of possessiveness through him. He took a step closer, his eyes darkening anticipating for her next move.

She moaned again but this time her hand started moving from her breasts down to her abdomen.

“Oh, Sylus.”

Her cute little face made a little frown and as her lips parted gasping between breaths. Her long hair disheveled in her pillow while Sylus listened intently wondering what could possibly happening that makes her feel that good in her dream not that he would complain he already saw her come undone under him, above him and side to side more times than he can count.

Her pretty white dress was almost revealing her long legs in the couch a perfect image of innocence and sensual woman before him ready to be taken in any moment. He grunted yet he was pleased after all she was dreaming of him that way he would have to make it a reality later and make sure she does not walk for a couple of hours.

She continued breathing deeply her back begins arching in response and her book fell on the floor. He could see how her body reacted to her dream. Sylus regained his self-control gritted his teeth straining as he watched her. His grip his hands tightened as his own breathing became heavier. He took a step closer, his eyes boring into her whole body as he watched her back arch again.

“Yes, yes.”

He watches as she continues her body respond to her own subconscious desires his eyes flickered to her face and her body silently grateful that no henchmen of his was present in the house this was all for him.

In life and in dreams.

His breathing heavy as his own body reacted to her movements.

She was sweating - her dress was beginning to damp he couldn’t resist any longer his self-control finally snapped and he pounced on top of the couch he hovered over her as he is aching to be inside of her. He made sure his body was pinning her down his eyes were like a wild animal filled with lust. He captured her wrists and held them above her head, while his other large hand gently wipes the sweat from her face.

“You’ve been a naughty little minx, haven’t you sweetheart?”

She opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at him feeling a bit victorious as she realizes her dream was about to come true.

“Smiling like you knew exactly what you were doing this whole time.”

Unable to resist she reached for his face and kissed his lips not caring that he just came from a work out his own desire warring his possessive control. She pulled away for a moment just to see his expression a knowing smile crept on his features.

“What were you dreaming about?” He asked softly as she only looked at his face with a desire that matches his very own.

He chuckled with the way she responded realizing that it doesn’t matter when he could make it a reality and better at this very moment.

[pursuitseternal]

“𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖔 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖊 𝖆 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖊:”

Ascended Astarion x Archdevil Supreme Raphael Explicit | 3.5 K

Happy birthday to the unparalleled @marimosalad, for you… your two pookies in power and in love 🎨🖌️ by them too. And 🩵 to @nyx-knox for her cheering and betaing

Summary: An arrangement for mutual power… no longer

CW: romantic fluff, two powerful men, pining/yearning, feelings confessions, anal sex

“Lovely place you have here, Devil. I must say, the eternal beggars are a nice touch. Homey. Especially the one with the chamber pot.” Lord Astarion giggles, dramatic, affected. Those scarlet eyes glimmering with roiling power. “I mean, when I tell people to ‘eat shit,’ I don’t mean it quite so literally.” His smirk broadens into something wicked and sadistic. “Good for you.”

Raphael sat at his desk in his boudoir, quill suspended midair in his grip. He didn’t need to look up to recognize that purring tenor or that refined, undead scent. He continued his writing, careful not to let the ink drip and make a mess. “To what do I owe the honor, Vampire?” he crooned, unbothered as he continued scribbling on the contract before him.

“Vampire Ascendant, devil,” the reply was clipped, Astarion reigning in his flash of a temper just before those brown eyes raised to observe him. “I am the one and only, and yet…” Astarion eased his stance, opting to lean against the side of a wingback chair instead of sitting in it, “the honor is all mine to be accepted into your glorious home here. One can’t always say they’ve met with a devil in his own home and lived to tell the tale.” He flashed that rakish, fanged smirk.

“You haven’t left yet, oh Vampire Ascendant,” Raphael’s mouth turned into a cockeyed grin. “Plenty of time for you to eat those words.”

Fingers picking at the threads of his ostentatiously embroidered jacket, Astarion took a heavy, dramatic sigh. “We both know you’re bluffing. We both know there is something you want that I could give you…” he raised his crimson eyes, their gaze roving down the Devil, lingering on the lines of his mortal form. “Perhaps more than one thing.”

“Speak plain, lest I cut out your churlish tongue,” he snapped back.

“The Crown,” Astarion replied. “You want it, I can give it to you.”

“You’d betray your own precious leader? The mortal that helped you ascend?” Skepticism twisted his tone, that dark amusement in his lilting his deep voice. “My, my, colour me surprised.”

“They’re nice, perhaps too nice. And they are short-sighted when it comes to their… ambitions. They think it will better serve another in our company on his own path to… ugh… healing.” The Vampire remained fixed in place, even as a storm of emotions danced across his expressive face. “But I am not one to pass up on an opportunity.”

Raphael leaned back in his seat, meticulously setting the quill down perfectly in line with the edge of his parchment. “Well… I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting such a gross betrayal within your ranks, but you know what they say…”

Astarion merely arched a silver brow.

“No good deed goes unpunished.”

With a deep chested giggle, Astarion pushed himself off the chair. “Indeed,” he replied, a rakish smirk on those refined features. “But given all that the hells has done for me, I figure a little quid pro quo is in order. Besides, I’d much rather make myself useful to another powerful being that understands the ways of the worlds in the same manner as I.”

Those crimson eyes locked into Raphael’s gaze as he continued. “I don’t need some bleeding heart creating a new god. I need… assurances of power, protection…” he paused to draw just up to the other side of the desk. “I need the promise of a little something extra powerful in exchange for something you hold dear, Devil.”

Raphael scoffed, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head. “I’m not interested in matters of the flesh, especially not of the undead variety. However, given the look in your eyes, I could offer you my Incubus…”

“My days of seeking those services are behind me,” Astarion fought the need to bristle, smoothing his tone as if to dangle the idea of his physical allure. “No, I want the secret of Hellfire from you in exchange for the crown.” He smirked, his fingers playing over the curve of his cane, those fingers dexterously teasing the gilded golden dragon that ornamented the handle. “Sex is nice, but power… protection… a way to keep my position as the Vampire Ascendant safe from any who would dare challenge me…”

His smirk twisted even more wickedly, noticing how the devil’s eyes followed his fingers briefly before drifting back to meet his gaze.

“I’d rather have power now than anything, even a horizontal dance with a devil.”

Raphael chuckled, shrugging before he snapped his fingers. Fire and smoke flashed between them; a new simple contract appearing midair. “Hellfire for the Crown is a deal I’d be a fool not to accept. I’ll even sweeten our bargain, Lord Astarion, giving you early access to my promised goods to help aid you in fulfilling yours.”

Astarion’s eyes widened, shocked at the generosity. “What’s the catch?” he snapped, eager eyes scanning the scanty few lines on the paper with a magistrate’s eye.

“No catch, nothing but the assurance that it will help you succeed in granting me what I desire…”

Steady handed, the vampire took the quill from the air and signed his name with a flourish. “Very well, Devil. I’m glad to see that our exchanges can come to mutual satisfaction.” He replied as the contract disappeared into thin air, leaving him facing the devil, those brown eyes roaming over his guest with searing appreciation.

“Indeed they do. Now run along, little vampling. I’ll be patiently waiting for word of your victories.”

Astarion gave a quick bow and headed for the door behind him.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Raphael’s voice called, sweetly and sing-song. He waited for that pale face to turn its sardonic grin back in his direction. “No one said the dances had to be exclusively… horizontal.”

Archdevil of Avernus. It even made the Vampire Ascendant grin as he stepped through the portal and into a great hall filled with mirrors. To his keen eye, not much had changed by way of appearances, though… the guest list seemed slightly more refined this time around. Other devils and infernal beings, a clear collection of mortal rulers watching with curious eyes at the display of decadence it was in the House of Hope.

A self-satisfied smirk twisted Lord Astarion’s lips as he recalled the last time he stood here. Halls still filled with debtors, those decrepit skeletal servants chattering about on their ancient bones. How much had changed since last he wandered these fearsome halls, since the day he handed Raphael the Crown of Karsus.

But today, he took a deep inhale, relishing in the revelry, drinking in the decadence. This soirée might have been for the Archdevil’s rise to power, and perhaps it was vain, but Astarion liked to think it was just as much his victory as well. And what a victory it was… the rush of power, the thrill of conquest, and the glory of ambition. The vampire gave himself a sly smile, knowing and craving those same things. After all, it was what he deserved after centuries at the hands of a master; he would have no other. None but himself. And at last, like in the true mirrored reflections he enjoyed so much, that lust for power reflected back at him in the face of this new Archdevil.

And it was… delicious.

No one else knew the obsession inside him, the need, second to none, to maintain control and to dominate. Only Raphael.

And, speaking of the Devil, Astarion laughed in his thoughts as he entered the great chamber of the House of Hope, he instantly felt those flame-flickered brown eyes lock on his entrance.

He entered, head held high, cane in his hand tapping along with his footfalls as he made his way, headlong into the fray of guests to approach the Archdevil. His gaze was searing, following every graceful movement Astarion made until he was right beside the Devil. He didn’t bow, didn’t fawn or bend low before the infernal creature. He just smirked, standing beside the arm of the Devil’s throne… and then he flicked his finger to ping the metal of the Crown of Karsus on his head.

The slightest metal click made those brown eyes squint as Raphael smiled up at the vampire. “You accepted my invitation to attend? A bit foolhardy but ambitious.”

“Me to a T,” Astarion chuckles, turning to scan the crowd from this vantage point. “I must admit,” he said, running a finger over the gilded top of the throne then down its side, “you’re the only other being I’ve met that makes power looks good.”

Raphael’s brows arched, brown eyes flicking up to meet those scarlet ones. “Aside from you, you mean?”

Astarion gave that rumbling low giggle. “Naturally, darling.” He gives a twirl of his hand, his cuff’s lace dancing in the air along with his wrist. “Aside from myself, I have never met another being so deserving of a crown.” He tilts his head; his kohl-rimmed eyes glinting at it covetously. “Perhaps I need one… a crown I mean.” He sighs, “It just looks so wonderfully elegant and powerful.”

Raphael stood, drawing to his full height, meeting the Ascendent right in the eyes, he gave a twisted smile. “Be sure to get your own, my vampling, unless you’d like to make a deal…” He lets the question hang in the air, the noises of revelry in full swing around them. Voices and music, it all fell to a hum as they locked eyes.

“Eh, a deal? I think my dealing days are quite done. I’m just happy to know I’m in the good graces of one as powerful as you,” he bows his head, flashing that charismatic, easy smile. “Besides, it’s a precious thing just to be on your good side, Devil.”

One final twist of his smirk and he made his way down to the throng of guests. Congratulations given, he was determined to sample a taste of the pleasures the hells had to offer. Reaching a table set lavishly with all manner of food and drink, he drew up short to feel that same searing heat standing behind him once more.

A tanned hand reached around his, grabbing a golden cup and offering it as Raphael slid to the side. “Allow me, Lord Astarion,” he crooned. “This vintage is perhaps best suited to your… most refined tastes.”

Astarion’s crimson eyes widened a moment, staring at the cup for the briefest of seconds before closing his pale hand around it. “I trust your recommendation, Devil.”

He lifted the cup to his full lips, the fragrant bouquet hitting his senses full bore. It went right to his head, or maybe that was the way those flame-flickering brown eyes seemed to drink him in as he lowered his cup.

“Is it to your liking, Astarion?” he asked, velvet tones caressing his name with something equally heady as the wine now in his belly. For a split second, the devil’s gaze watched as Astarion licked a drop of wine from the corner of his mouth.

Oh. No, couldn’t possibly… Astarion nodded once and smiled politely. “You give excellent recommendations on all things decadent. This party for one,” he scanned the lavish room. “Food and drink. Music and sex. So many indulgences in one place. Makes me realize I’ll have to step up my own soirées at the Crimson Palace if I’m going to keep my hedonistic reputation intact.” He snipped the consonants.

Raphael smiled, that swarthy face lifting as he grabbed his own cup, appeased and relaxed for once as he looked out on the fray. “Perhaps you’d deign to include me on your guest list? It’s been some time since I rubbed elbows with the undead elite.”

Astarion smirked to feel that devilish gaze back on him. “Oh, my darling, you mean me? Tch, I do suppose I am the elitest of them all now.” He took another drink of the wine, savoring the burn down his throat. Only to find Raphael a bit closer. Those corners of his dark eyes a little… softer.

“I do not make such offers lightly, Astarion,” the devil spoke, “nor do I pin hopes on wisps of nothing. You are unique, a mirror to my own ambitions and drives. You and I, we are cut from the same fabric of power, molded by the same sorts of trials, and seen by the ignorant as monsters.”

Astarion held his breath, watching those lips lift in a small half smile.

“But I know you are no monster any more than I am, and I… appreciate that connection.”

“Connection?” Astarion gave that rakish smirk, crimson eyes glinting with his swagger charm. Then he gave that flurry of giggles. “I knew devils like to toy with the truth, but this… tch.” He sucked his teeth, scolding just a bit. A sarcastic arch to his silver brow.

Raphael merely matched that easy, daring twist of a smirk, extending his hand and glancing his dark eyes towards the center of the room. “Care for a dance, Ascendant?”

Astarion’s eyes widened at the gallant gesture. “I… I suppose it would be rude to refuse,” he flashed that rakish grin, but something about it felt false. Too much of a show of detachment for the nagging feeling in his belly. A belly that no longer gnawed with a spawn’s hunger, largely thanks to the owner of the infernally hot hand that closed around his own.

For once, that now-beating heart in his chest lurched, pulled into the crowd of couples dancing. The music beat and swelled, but nothing was louder than that thump of his ascended heart and the way he seemed to breathe too loudly. Carefully, he schooled his face into that easy smile even as that other infernally hot hand pressed tentatively on his lower back.

He cleared his throat, turning his head to view the room. “You know…” he began, stopping short the moment he felt a pair of fiery warm lips on the arch of his neck. Just one little press right over his scars.

“Apologies,” Raphael rasped, feeling the tension in Astarion’s body. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. What is it I should know?”

Astarion, brows furrowed and full lips twitching, he looked into that swarthy, handsome devilish face. He expected sarcasm, a look meant to intimidate and ruffle feathers. But all he saw was curiosity and, if he was honest, hesitation. “No I was just…” his own silken voice stopped at the lump in his throat. His hand gripped into the top of the devil’s shoulder as he pulled him against his lips.

Warm. A hint of spice like cinnamon. The slightest purse against his own. That’s what Astarion felt the second their lips met.

A taste of power, a thrum of recognition. Astarion felt those warm hands on him grip just a bit firmer, pulling him slowly flush against the devil’s chest. Then that velvet voice whispered against his lips, “I’ve waited too long for a taste of you, of your own power.”

The vampire exhaled, intrigued by the taste of heat on the mouth against his own. “And, how does it taste?” he purred in reply.

Raphael’s lips twisted in a smirk, throwing back a word he’d so often heard the Ascendant use: “Delicious.”

The moment a lull had fallen on the festivities, that warm hand into the vampire’s grip once more. “Follow me, Ascendant,” he murmured in that pointed ear. Soon the crowd dispersed the further into his House they went. Heads held high, hands held tightly, they smiled with confidence, nodding to those few straggling guests who sought to congratulate the new Archdevil Supreme… or who recognized the Vampire Ascendant, royalty of the undead. Unspoken, they both began to tread just a bit faster once that shimmering door to his boudoir came into sight.

Entering, the rushing of the rejuvenating bath seemed to fade into the distance as their lips met again, this time in hunger and aching need. Neither even acknowledge the whines and pouts of the incubus that paced deeper in, knowing best to let their master attend to his own affairs.

Raphael’s body reached its limit, a blazing inferno beneath this mortal veil as he pulled Astarion against his chest and pulled him towards that decadent and sprawling bed. Those burning lips parted, barely withdrawing from that fanged and hungry mouth as he rasped, “Astarion, I would very much like to share with you my appreciation… for your power, and for… your very being, one that mirrors my own.” He kept those flickering brown eyes closed, holding his breath tightly in his chest as he waited, as he made his offer with no strings nor contract attached. And it made his heart pound in his damned chest.

“Yes, devil,” the reply passed between his parted lips with that deliciously rakish giggle. “If you insist on worshiping me, how could I say no…”

His hands worked quickly to disrobe the vampire, letting that tailored suit of silks and golden thread fall to the floor to uncover the real luxury beneath. Skin pale and pearlescent, muscles etched and carved with strength, it even made his ancient heart stutter with lust and desire. He recalled seeing so many years ago already it seemed, on the road to Baldur’s Gate when this whole thing began. He felt him purr, lips twitching as they locked eyes again.

Smooth nimble fingers followed suit as Astarion pulled apart that elegant jacket to expose the chest of a man who was so, so much more. Trails and patches of dark patches of hair lined his body, and Astarion couldn't help but touch them, curious and aroused at the sensation so different from his own smooth flesh. He’d had mortal men before, of course, but none so sculpted and godlike… or perhaps not so devilishly handsome. He laughed at his own humorous thoughts only to feel a knuckle under his chin, lifting his face.

Raphael smiled at him. “Something funny, Ascendant?” he murmured, dark eyes watching those plush lips part to speak.

“The contrary,” his smile turned soft at the corner, hands winding around the heat of his back to pull him flush, to lose himself in that searing embrace. “I find myself very serious about you… how I, too, feel for you.”

Clothing shed, the bed caught them both as they tumbled into it. That dark skin and bristled hair was a crush of muscle, the devil carefully lowering himself on the pale elf, breathing rough and ragging into that fanged kiss. Arousals pressed together, and devilish hands clawed and gripped hard into that perfect swell of an ass beneath him. “So handsome, so powerful, a reflection equal to my own…” Raphael growled into his mouth, hips pressing and grinding into the vampire, slowly.

“Hells,” Astarion gasped, reaching between them to grip their cocks together and tighter, a bit more relief with the friction. Then he panted a laugh, “The irony… of that curse is not… lost on me.” His silken voice broke with each gasping breath he made.

“I’d rather hear my name cried from your lips,” he murmured, teasing his finger into that tight ring of the vampire’s ass. His laughter is slow, lazy and gentle for once, fingers suddenly coated in oil as if summoned from thin air…

“Neat trick,” Astarion purred, rocking his hips, lifting his ass for ease. “You’ll teach it to me… hgnf…” his voice broke as he was skillfully stretched open.

“That and more are yours, Astarion, when you’re by my side.” There was so much weight to his tone, so many asks and emotions implied, even as he pressed his cock at the vampire’s entrance.

Devils were vain, proud… and Astarion recognized the hesitation and vulnerability masked behind the words.

For they mirrored his own.

Nevertheless, a single, “Yes,” slipped from the Ascendant’s smirking mouth. Twisted lips parting in ecstasy the moment he felt hot, warm, and so full.

Foreheads pressed against one another—their breath a wash of warm and hot. Skin slid on skin—one dark and swarthy atop one pale and undead. For two such powerful beings, they drove one another to the brink.

Their voices huffed and panted, whimpered and growled until hot seed filled his insides, and Astarion’s own cum coated the rises of his belly.

Never, he thought, never was it so chivalrous with anyone, never had he felt so seen and desired by one so powerful and pleasing in shape. His mind awash with bliss, his vision filled with only those dark eyes set deep in that regal face, and Astarion actually felt his heart beat. Not just out of the magic of his rite or from the necessity of his new, glorious, undead life. No, this was an unsteady flutter… young and ruddy and uncontrollable.

A sensation he had long thought impossible. He pursed his lips, pressing them one last time for a kiss, clinging to the moment, to the feeling of seeing himself in the mirrored shine of those dark eyes.

As their lips broke one more time, that rich baritone voice crooned down at him, Raphael’s hot palm cupping his cheek. “Stay, Ascendant. Stay with me.”

“Yes, Devil,” he purred softly in reply, “my darling.”

@marimosalad I wouldn’t be doing this at all or still or this much without them. My tadpole sister, my constant collaborator. I am beyond lucky and blessed to call you bestie. 🩵🩸

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU! But they watch you flop and lose all inhibitions when you’ve had one little too many

(masterlist here!)

For lack of better terms, as Price would like to put it delicately, you’d- more often than not- lose all inhibitions and act “thirsty”

Yes, you heard that right

From all the way on the middle of the room, a mic in hand- ready to karaoke your heart out

“Since when did you learn young’in lingo captaiiiiiinnn!”

The bakery roars in laughter, poking fun at the barely-geezer man and for a moment, he thinks he should shave the beard to avoid being called old for the umpteenth time

The family often have get together once a month now (as proposed by you) and eat and drink their hearts out even through the the day after

So, you take this as a chance to let loose from all the stresses in life— eat and drink as much as your tummy can be filled!

But the best part of this was the karaoke portion you just had to include

This way, you learned their favorite songs and make a playlist customized for them whenever they eat the bakery (they love you and appreciate your effort for this by the way)

Though, in turn, you get to also hear them sing and vice versa

You love singing! (And the family knows all too well as you slide across the bakery floor with a mop in hand, moonwalking all the while as you cleaned)

So you decide to flex it as well with a very competitive karaoke sing-off

And you just knew the perfect song to win over Rudy (he always wins and sometimes Alejandro too)

You could only hope you were drunk enough to perform it and forget about how embarrassing you acted by tomorrow

“Anyways! Here’s the song i pickedd just for yaaallll!”

You were slurring all your words but they knew better (well some more than others like the Tf 141 guys as they go out drinking with you or at your place)

Even if you were as buzzed as you are right now, when it came to singing— you never flop

When that familiar violin sound came on— they (Tf 141) knew they were fucked

well,more like the others were in for an… ✨experience✨

And the fact that you were going to sing that song against Rudy’s “My Way”?

Oh they are just ready and waiting with popcorn on hand

Because you had sang this song before with Soap, and even taught him to act along the song like it was a musical, the guys already knew what to expect

But even they didn’t know they were in for a long haul with you bouncing around and saying the most wild stuff on mic in 4K

Were they your secret inhibitions?

No? Maybe?

As long as you don’t mention it being about Alejandro to Rudy you’ll be good

But alas, your lyrics seems to make Alejandro’z eyes wide and spit choked on

Especially when you get to the more frisky parts and go closer to him, to sing those lyrics and cradle his face as if you were muttering it for him

Yeah, you can’t blame him for how his pants we’re so uncomfortable that he had to keep shifting in his seat

Or the rest as well, with you twirling around and singing the most wildest and lewd lyrics— it was hard to not imagine it with you

Yet, the longer the song went on— the more drinks you got into you by snatching drinks from their hands or tables

That by the time the song right near bloody ended, you’re utterly spent in Price’s (still unimpressed with you from the jab from earlier) lap, head rolling over and giggles that never seemed to stop

After your final belt, he grabs the mic from your hands and replaces it with water

Patting your back all the while to encourage you but this just makes you sleepy

Landing on his chest and just…drooling all over him

He sighs, thinking at how he does so much things for you and you repay him by drooling on his favorite shirt

Though, he doesn’t mind having you in his arms

Your drunken mumbles of love admissions flowing through your lips— and it was only him who gets to hear how deeply you mean them

Drunken words are sober thoughts, right?

Alas, the night ends with you finally winning!

Though… you were properly lights out for the night and the guys promise they’ll treat you to something nice for winning karaoke night (especially Rudy- he has some… questions that need answering.)

And to also nurse your morning self, ‘cause you always had the wildest whiplash in the morning after a good night out of drinking

You were semi-sad you couldn’t see Rudy’s reaction when you won

But also, semi-embarrassed at how everyone kept making jokes about wanting to try that tango with you now

Finally did that one idea of mine about this song- it was sitting in my draft box for days LMAO

Taglist✨

@accidental-obsessionist @sunshineistoofuckingbright

[karmaholik]

Suguru enters into the classroom with a sleepy greeting and is met with two wide-eyed stares. It was the morning after he got back from a particularly irritating mission. Not only did it take longer than expected, but the curse he was dealing with was just plain annoying.

 

It would have been fun if Satoru was with him like he was supposed to be, but Yaga had separated them as a punishment. So they were sent on solo missions apart.

 

"What?" He asks slowly as they continue to stare at him. He looks down at his uniform. Nothing seemed out of place. It's not like he showed up to class without pants. Though, Satoru would probably have enjoyed that. 

"What the fuck happened?" Satoru exclaims as he shoots out of his chair, it clatters to the floor at the force. He's rounding his desk and coming right for Suguru. The black-haired boy can only watch Satoru with confusion etched into his features. 

"Where did it go?" Satoru gestures to him wildly, looking a little frantic. Suguru just stares at him. What the hell is he going on about?

"He means your hair, dumbass." Shoko says as her teeth clack against the sucker she rolls around in her mouth. 

Oh. He forgot about that. 

"Ah, the curse got a chunk of it. It was this ball with a bunch of razor blades on it. I just cut the rest off for it to be even." He hears a sharp intake of breath from Satoru. His hand unconsciously goes up to tugs at the ends that now fall around his ears. 

It was much shorter now. Suguru didn't mind it. Sure, he liked it longer, but this was fine, too. His showers would be a lot shorter now. 

"Shoko, use your RCT to fix his hair!" Satoru demands, pointing to Suguru as he looks expectantly at her. She doesn't even blink.

"That's not how that works, idiot." She says blandly. It wasn't a big deal. Except it seemed to be that way to Satoru, who looked absolutely devastated as his gaze fell to the shorter black tresses. 

"Satoru," he calls out softly as he steps closer to the other boy. They are nose to nose, and Suguru gives him a smile as he brings his hands up to cup Satoru's face lovingly.

"It's just hair. It will grow back." He tries to sound reassuring. Satoru blinks rapidly, and Suguru notices his eyes looking glassy. 'Aw,' he thinks. 'How adorable.'

"But I liked it long." His mouth wobbles a bit, and Suguru can't help but coo at him. It was honestly so cute how upset Satoru is over his hair. He'll grow it out again and keep it long since Satoru seemed to like it so much. 

Satoru runs a hand through Suguru's hair with a pout. With a laugh at the other boy's actions, Suguru starts leaning in for a kiss.

"I swear, if you guys kiss in front of me, I won't heal you the next time you fuck up. I'll let you suffer." Suguru doesn't heed her warning and leans forwards anyways to press a kiss to Satoru's pouty lips. Oh well, guess he'll suffer. 

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 2 (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 1 here.

Warnings: Profanities, smut, alcohol consumption and cigarette use. Age gap (reader!22)

MINORS DNI

-

You were in a separate room at the Corinium with Seb, Declan, and Cameron Cook, discussing how to take down Rupert Campbell-Black. Ever since the incident at the Jones' dinner party, Declan has been hell-bent on taking down Rupert. There were folders filled to the brim on his desk with blackmail, although much of it was already public news.

"We've done all this research on Rupert," Seb starts, looking toward the three of you from the bulletin board of newspaper cuttings. "But what if he won't agree to be interviewed?" He queries.

"Don't worry, he will." Cameron affirms, leaning over the desk. "Alright. So, we start with the horsewhipping and move up to the cabinet minister's wife and his daughter."

"Wrong," Declan interjects. "English people care more about horses than they do women. We end with the horses and the Olympics."

You scoff, Tony Baddingham entering the room rather abruptly to sneak a glance at the work the team has done collectively.

"Imagine if this works," Tony says, his hands on his hips. "We annihilate the smug fucker on national television."

"Well-" You begin.

"Hello." Charles Fairburn says, entering the room suddenly with clipboard in hand. "What time do you want us all for the party tonight, Declan?" He asks eagerly.

"Oh. Wasn't expecting to see you there, Charles." Tony says with arrogance.

"Um," Declan closes his eyes with annoyance. "Eight o'clock should be grand. Are you okay Charles?" He asks. "You look a little worn."

"Uh, my mother's not been very well." Charles responds. "There's only me, so it's not been easy."

"Sorry." Declan says.

You look over at Seb, who simply shrugs as the rest of the room continues to make conversation about the party.

"Are you going?" You ask, to which Seb nods.

"Taggie invited me, I'm assuming you as well?"

"Yeah, she did." You and Taggie became friends over the French four-course menu at the Jones', assisting her with the menu due to her dyslexia. There was a fiasco over Rupert groping her, to which Declan nor you took well the next day in office. You were invited to the dinner for some reason, although you knew it was per Freddie's request. He saw something between you and Declan that no one else did, that was for certain.

"And Cinderella will go to the ball," Tony says, placing a hand on Cameron's shoulder and bringing your attention back to the room. "Just not this one. Happy New Year, all." He announces, walking away as Declan presses his hand to his forehead.

You hear a champagne bottle pop in the distance, wincing with your two higher ups.

"Oh Christ, it would be quieter to work from home." Declan states. "Let's pick this up next week, yeah?" He asks of you and Seb, the both of you nodding as the commotion in the office becomes louder. He leaves hastily, you and Seb lingering behind to gather your belongings.

"See you later, yeah?" Seb says rhetorically, a grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, see you." You say, exiting the office briskly to eventually make your way home as your duties were no longer needed for the afternoon.

-

As you cooked yourself a mediocre meal with the radio playing in the distance, the phone rings. You turn off the stove, wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging off your stove as you take the phone off the hook. "Hello, y/n speaking." You say.

"Hey, it's Taggie." Taggie says timidly on the other side of the phone.

"Taggie, hi! What's up?" You ask, leaning against the wall.

"I just need someone to talk to, y/n." She explains, sighing. "It's too grand of a party my mother has thrown, I feel like I'm drowing in potato peels. Plus, she's sat herself beside Rupert." She says harshly, groaning as you hear yelling in the distance.

"Are you serious?" You say, twirling the cord between your fingers. "What a mess, Christ. Are you okay?" You ask,

"No, I just..." She sighs. "Remember that Ralphie boy I told you about? Well, he's shown up with a girlfriend." She exasperates.

"Oh, Taggie... Gag me with a spoon!" You exclaim, using your west coast slang. "I can come over earlier if you'd like, it's no problem at all." You say.

"No, no." She says, speaking to someone else in the room quickly before returning to the phone. "It's alright. I'll see you at eight, yeah?" She reaffirms.

"Yes, of course. Be easy on yourself, please. We can get super fucking drunk together and forget about it all." You jest, hearing Taggie laugh on the other line.

"Yes, course. See you later, y/n."

You hang up the phone, sighing as you cross your arms. Tonight was going to be real grand, whether you liked it or not.

-

You pull up to The Priory with your car that you bought for cheap, the engine louder than the camera shutters in the distance. You turn off your vehicle, stepping out of it and closing the door behind you. A velvet dress mimicking the style of the 40s clung to your waist, your hair cascading just past your shoulders. The blinding of camera flashes hits you as you approach the home, gripping your clutch for dear life.

"Y/n!" Daysee yells, beckoning you over.

You join her eagerly, entering the house together. You were taken aback by the guests and decorations, a glass of champagne already shoved in your hand. You and Daysee approach Sarah Stratton, who was accompanied by Lizzie and and James Vereker.

"I thought there was supposed to be celebrities here tonight." Daysee says in a tone of disappointment.

"Well there's definitely one." James chimes, referring to himself.

"Where?" Daysee says excitedly, looking elsewhere as you stifle a laugh at the interaction.

You glance around the room, noticing Taggie on the other side. You make your way over to her, placing your now empty glass on a table surface.

"Taggie!" You exclaim, getting the attention of your friend.

She instantly smiles, meeting you in the middle to give you a hug. "God, I'm so happy to see you y/n." She says, rubbing your arms before dropping her hands to her sides. "If I have to keep watching Ralphie with his girlfriend I might put a barrel in my mouth." She mutters, grabbing ahold of your hand. "Care for a tour?"

"Always, love." You say, grinning as Taggie leads you away from the crowd. You pass Declan, giving him a smile and a wave as you disappear around the corner, his eyes scanning over your entire body within seconds.

Taggie grabs a bottle of wine from the kitchen table, taking a swig before handing it over to you. "He gifted me a bracelet, I just thought I meant more than that." She whispers, putting her head in her hands as Caitlin bursts into the room.

"The bracelet's from Rupert!" She exclaims, nearly clearing you as you hold onto the table for stability. "Christ, sorry y/n." She exclaims.

"What?" Taggie says in dismay.

"It's 'R' for Rupert! He feels bad for touching you up at the Jones's." Caitlin exclaims.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you take a swig of the wine bottle.

"Sounds about right. Too much money, too little sense." A woman you have yet to get the name of comments as her son lays upon the kitchen table beside her.

"Oh, wow. England is surely more entertaining than home." You mumble, scratching the back of your head. "What are you gonna do Tag?" You ask, Taggie looking off to the side in thought as she takes off the bracelet and discards it by the sink.

"Nothing." She snaps, taking an open bottle of champagne and swigging it. "Let's go celebrate Patrick's birthday, yeah?" She remarks, exiting the kitchen as you and Caitlin exchange worried looks.

The three of you re-enter the dining space, Caitlin explaining that your name card was beside hers, and shockingly beside Rupert Campbell-Black and Maud O'Hara. You watch with curiosity as Maud laughs a little too loud at Rupert's remarks, your eyes trailing elsewhere. You find yourself looking at Declan, who was watching Maud.

He says something dismissively to Tony's wife before standing up and walking away, taking a path that led him outside.

"I'll be back." You tell Caitlin, who nods in response. You follow Declan through a door that leads towards the open acres, spotting him lighting a cigarette in the middle of a field. You slowly approach him, holding the bottle of wine to your chest.

He spots you, taken aback by our presence. "Y/n, nice to see you." He says warmly, putting out the cigarette in the grass underneath his shoe.

"Likewise." You say, standing face to face. "How're you doing?" You ask, taking a swig of your bottle.

He raises his brows at your bottle, chuckling. "Could be better. How'd you get ahold of my wine?" He asks, pointing to the vessel in your hand.

"Taggie." You simply say, stretching out your arm. "Would you like some?"

He hesitates before taking the bottle, taking a large swig from it before sighing. "So you know about Ralphie, then?"

"Yeah, real pity. Your daughter is wonderful, he's cruel to not realize that." You say, taking the bottle back as Declan hands it to you.

"Thanks for being here for her, she really admires you." Declan says, smiling. "We both do." He admits.

You begin to smile, white knuckling the neck of the bottle. "She has a great father, that's why she's so lovable Declan." You say, giving him a look of longing. "I see Maud's distracted." You bring up cautiously, watching as Declan pulls out another cigarette and lights it. You hear Foreigner's I Wanna Know What Love Is start to play in the distance, setting the mood in a rather ironic feat.

"No, really? I had no idea." Declan spats, looking up at the dark night before returning your gaze. "I have tried everything! Fucking everything to keep her happy, yet for some bloody fucking reason it's my god damn fault!" He yells, breathing heavily as you watch him with wide eyes.

"Declan-" You try to interject.

"She goes on and tries to fuck whoever she wants but I can't help but feel guilty whenever I look at you! God that fucking dress of yours!" He exclaims, gesturing towards you. He doesn't realize what he has admitted until he sees your reaction.

Your jaw drops slightly, taking in his words. "You... what?" You whisper.

He stares at you, his actions dawning over him. "Y/n, I-I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to come out like that." He admits, tossing his second cigarette to the ground. He takes a step closer to you. "Ever since you started working at Corinium, you have never left my mind. You are the one thing I cannot let myself have, yet I think of you every waking hour." He explains, watching you closely as he continues. "When we danced at Bar Sinister and you left me in the dust, I felt defenseless. I wanted you so fucking badly, but I kept thinking of Maud. But now that I'm here, I don't care anymore. She can have what she wants, as long as I can get what I want." He whispers, pressing his forehead against yours.

You toss the half-empty bottle of wine to the side, letting it pour onto the grass as you grab his face and press your lips against his.

He eagerly pulls you in, hungrily kissing you like he had been waiting for centuries. You pull at his tie, undoing a the first few buttons of his shirt to reveal his chest, running your hands over it. The two of you fall to the ground, Declan unzipping your dress slightly to move his hand underneath the fabric. He maneuvers his free hand between your legs, rubbing gently against the fabric of your underwear as you moan against your own will.

"Declan-!" You say, tilting your head back in pleasure as his fingers slip into you, pumping feverishly as he reconnects his lips with yours.

"Y/n," He moans, kissing across your jaw as he begins to suck on the space between your neck and collarbone. His other hand finds your breast, kneading it gently as you try to keep your composure.

You couldn't believe that Declan O'Hara was fingering you by the tree line, but sometimes wildest dreams come true. You nearly yelped as you felt his mustache graze your clit, his mouth now fucking you as his fingers teased your bulb.

"Declan, please." You whimper, your hand running through his hair as he looked up at you from between your legs. You find yourself nearing your climax, your thighs pressing against his head as your back arches in ecstasy. You finally come undone into his mouth, your hand pushing his head away as you became too sensitive to the touch.

Declan smiles as you as he sits up, pulling you forward by your lower back to reconnect your lips. You could taste yourself on his mouth, somehow even more enamored by his actions.

"God, you are so beautiful when you cum, y'know that?" He murmurs, pressing more kisses along your neck.

You smile in contentment, tilting your head back. "If you enjoy it so much, do it as many times as you wish Declan." You whisper, pressing kisses against his ear as your hand palmed against his groin.

He groans, pulling his head back. "Mm, we'll have to arrange meetings in my office then." He says, kissing you once more. You start to undo his pants, which he tsks you for. "We have my son's birthday to celebrate. This can wait." He murmurs, redoing the button on his dress pants as he stands up, offering a hand.

You eagerly grab his hand, pulling yourself up onto your unstable legs. "Do you think anyone saw us?" You whisper, looking around.

"No, I highly doubt it. Everyone's inside completely smashed." He reassures, not realizing Charles had been waiting out in the garden for his secret lover, watching every move made between the two of you against his own wishes.

"For both of our sakes, I hope not." You say, recouping as Declan gestures for you to re-enter the home, giving himself a minute by lighting up another cigarette and fixing his attire before he enters.

A few moments later, you find a space between Seb and Taggie as Declan joins his wife in singing Happy Birthday for Patrick.

The clover cake is lit up beautifully, Patrick blowing out the candles as you all cheer. The attendees all sit down hastily as Declan begins his speech by tapping on the mic repetitively.

"Today we celebrate my son, Patrick, who was born New Year's Eve, 21 years ago." A few yells echo through the space before Declan continues, your eyes watching him closely.

"My son, makes me prouder than any father ever was." Declan says, attempting to hold back tears as you and Taggie awe in sync. "Yeats wrote, 'Life is a long preparation for something that never happens'. But when I look at my son..." He takes a beat, looking directly at Patrick. "I think Yeats was wrong." He places a hand on his son's shoulder before continuing. "My son was a brilliant boy, who is now a brilliant man. He has happened." He says towards the crowd, raising a glass.

You notice Taggie seeming disheartened by the statement, your hand placed upon her shoulder in silent comfort as she gives you a soft smile.

"So please raise your glasses for my clever boy, now a man. To Patrick!" Declan finishes, the entire room whopping with joy for his son.

"Are you okay?" You whisper to Taggie, who simply nods.

"I'm fine." She whispers before Patrick takes hold of the mic.

Your paranoia with your actions between you and Declan were already taking flight as you worried about someone seeing the two of you earlier, grabbing ahold of a discarded glass of champagne and raising it in toast for Patrick before slamming it back.

Patrick thanks his parents, beginning to thank a third party before his words come to a halt.

"Holy shit. Celestial light." He says into the mic, causing the whole room to turn their focus on whatever he was looking at.

Cameron Cook.

The whole crowd murmurs as Patrick begins counting down for New Years. You check your watch, leaning towards Taggie as you see him walk towards Cameron. "He's way too early." You mumble, watching in shock as Patrick kisses Ms. Cook.

You glance over at Declan, who seems bemused by his son's actions before you move your gaze to Tony Baddingham, who was most definitely sleeping with Cameron and surely not pleased with the sight. No one seemed happy about the actions bestowed upon them.

You notice Taggie looking over at Ralphie and his girlfriend, causing you to place a quick kiss on her cheek to distract her. "Happy New Year!" You exclaim quietly, Taggie giving you a force smile before exiting hastily.

You noticed Rupert watching her moves, causing your brows to furrow at the sight of Mr. Campbell-Black.

The crowd starts to sing in song, random goers linking hands with you as you watch Declan from a distance. He makes eye contact with you, giving you a subtle wink as you both look elsewhere. You smiled to yourself, not realizing the weight of what was yet to come.

Happy New Year, indeed.

-

oh my oh wow oohhh naughty naughty... I think i have to do a part three now ohh noooo blasphemy. thanks for reading as always and please do interact with my posts, it reminds me to keep the ball rolling :D

much love,

isabel

[peachhcs]

YES YES YES another side plot!! i love the angst and tension of the wonder years

one person has spoken so this is becoming a side plot!!! so excited bc i love writing about the wonder years & expanding it further. this got way longer than i expected and way angstier than i thought LOL enjoy!!!

au masterlist | previous part

the state championships were the weekend before thanksgiving break up in alpena, so the boys packed into their cars to make the trip in support of samy and the team. it was the girls’ third year in a row making it to the state finals, so almost everyone from the school was in attendance on the cool november night.

will and the boys found seats with ellen, jim, and luke. even quinn and jack managed to catch a flight to watch their little sister play in what will be her final high school game.

marcie rallied everyone the night before to make signs for the whole team. they probably spent a good 4 hours altogether, but it was worth it in the end and getting to see each girl smile with excitement that they had a sign. the boys also excitedly took turns holding one of them up so everyone go some recognition.

“god, i hope they win. if they do, they’ll set a new record for the school,” marcie smiled despite the harsh cold that made everyone bundle up in layers of long sleeves and jackets.

“with samy they will. she’s gotten them to win for the past three years,” drew said like it wasn’t a big deal. the others chuckled.

“she’ll do fine. she knows what she’s doing,” will hummed, eyes finding samy’s number 6 down on the field. she was doing warm-ups with her teammates.

it was her lucky number ever since they were little. something about sixes was always catching her attention and the thought made the blonde smile. although, his happiness didn’t last long when a familiar voice snapped him from his thoughts:

“oh, hey. funny seeing you guys here,” it was kevin.

he’d been passing through the stands with some of his friends when he saw the boys a few rows down.

“what’s up, kevin?” marcie wondered, clearly not interested in his presence.

“not much. good to see you, mar. didn’t know you guys were coming,” kevin looked over at will and the guys where they exchanged wary glances.

“wouldn’t wanna miss supporting samy,” will decided he needed to stop letting kevin push him around, so he stood up for himself.

“agreed. she’s got some big stakes on her shoulders tonight,” kevin said and for some reason, that didn’t sit right in will’s stomach. shouldn’t boyfriends be more supporting of their girlfriends instead of just adding pressure to them?

“she’s gonna do great. we’ll be cheering either way,” ryan cut in.

“right. of course. well, good seeing you guys,” they all exchanged a tense wave, the jealousy being so obvious.

“could you look any less angry?” gabe nudged will’s shoulder who’s eyes were still on kevin’s retreating figure.

“he’s such a fucking idiot. ‘didn’t know you guys were coming’ why the fuck wouldn’t we?” the blonde voiced his frustrations to which no one had an answer to other than letting it go because picking a fight was not worth it right now.

will brushed the boy’s behavior off and focused on samy instead. the commentators began announcing the starting line-up, so the girls lined themselves up the field side by side with the opposing team. they played against grand rapids last year at the state finals, so would this be another win or redemption? everyone in their section was definitely hoping for another win.

“number 6, center offense: samy hughes!” everyone jumped up in cheers as the young brunette stepped forward to wave at the crowd. will held the sign up and he saw samy giggling at their energy before stepping back into line.

once they finished announcing everyone else, samy and her other co-captains went to the officials to decide who was playing on what side and discuss other minor details.

will could see kevin and his friends diagonal and three rows down from where they were. the boy caught his gaze and the two stared at one another with what felt like hot rivalry in both of their eyes.

the blonde quickly looked away. this wasn’t about him or kevin. this was about samy and her game tonight.

once the sides were decided for the first half, the girls got into position. samy was in the middle right in front of the ball. her and the center offense from grand rapids exchanged a few words, shook hands, and got into position.

the whistle blew marking the beginning of the first half.

it was a tense game right from the start. the grand rapids girls were always close and on the backs of ann arbor, a lot of pushing and shoving already underway. samy had good ball control, but she just couldn’t shake the other team to make a pass or get open.

“come on, sam! get around them!” jack began his rowdiness and will’s probably never seen the hughes brothers so focused on something besides hockey.

the teams continued battling it out, calling nonsense to one another that was hard to understand from the stands. samy would wave her hand to indicate she was open but then a girl from the other team got in front of her and blocked her pass. she was quick on her feet, nearly sending the brunette to the ground when she failed to get the ball back.

everyone’s eyes followed their movements across the field. the ball moved fast between feet, but then lauren eventually got ahold of it and went up the turf towards the goal.

“let’s go lauren! go! go!” marcie screamed so loud it hurt will’s ears.

lauren shoved her way past grand rapids, passing her to samy so she could get open again. samy took the ball to the corner before passing back to her teammate when she saw lauren back open. the girl took her shot and the entire stand erupted in cheers when it flew into the net.

“hell yeah! let’s go! wooo!!!” marcie jumped up in down in excitement.

now the girls just needed to keep that lead for the rest of the game and they’d be state champions for the 3rd year in a row.

—

by the time the first half ended, it was 4-3 and ann arbor had the lead, but it wasn’t easy getting those points. grand rapids were definitely out for redemption after last year’s loss. the teams went inside for halftime discussion and everyone began heading to the bathroom or getting food.

will and gabe offered to get things for everyone and surprise, surprise, kevin and his friends landed in line right behind them. the hockey players tried their best ignoring him knowing he technically was still the guy samy liked and was talking to.

“you know i never really understood why hockey goes to 3 periods. like why 3? why not 2? or go up to 4?” it was obvious kevin was trying to pull a reaction from them, mainly will.

him and gabe exchanged a glance. the darker haired boy gave a look saying to just ignore it and be chill, and that’s what will did.

or he tried to.

he kept his chill for probably a good 3 minutes. after 3 minutes, kevin’s friend was saying something about the girls on the team and then it turned to samy.

“she’s the hottest one on the team, no doubt about it,” one of them laughed and the others followed in agreement.

“dude, you’re so fucking lucky man. if you didn’t have dibs i’d totally hit that. have you seen her?” and that’s when will lost his cool. he spun around faster than gabe could stop him.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he snapped at the boys behind him. kevin and his friends exchanged a glance.

“excuse me?” kevin raised his eyebrow.

“if she’s your so called girlfriend, why the hell are you letting your friends talk about her in that way? fucking disgusting,” the blonde continued angrily.

“well am i wrong? don’t lie, you’ve totally thought that too,” will was pretty sure the other kid’s name was tyler and he wanted to smack that smirk right off his face.

“yeah, will, tell us. have you thought about it before?” kevin taunted and gabe pulled at his friend’s arm, trying to get him to just leave it before anything escalated.

“and if i did?” the blonde raised his eyebrow.

for a second, nothing happened and the boys were staring one another down. the next second everything happened so fast—kevin raised his arm, his hand balled into a fist that landed right into will’s cheek with a loud smack.

everyone around them gasped. gabe freaked, grabbing will before he fell over. kevin’s friends quickly pulled him back.

“what the fuck!” gabe yelled angrily at the brunette.

“so you admit! you’d have her in a second if you had the chance! i fucking knew it!” kevin yelled at will who pulled out of gabe’s grasp and launched himself at him.

will took his own punch at kevin and then they were both on the ground. everyone around them began yelling and screaming while gabe and kevin’s friends desperately tried pulling the boys apart.

ryan, aram, and drew appeared a moment later and used their combined strength to pull will away. ryan stepped between them, holding his friend back while kevin wiped the blood from his nose.

“alright, alright. everyone just calm down,” ryan said, trying to get the crowd to go away before someone came over and kicked everyone out.

“he fucking started it!” will exclaimed while the boys pulled him away. kevin’s friends pulled him away too and they dispersed before a teacher or something caught wind of what happened.

“dude, what the fuck?” ryan said as they sat will down at one of the benches to check him over.

“he punched me!” will exclaimed.

“that doesn’t mean you punch back, idiot,” gabe shook his head. luckily, the blonde wasn’t bleeding and nothing looked broken besides the bruise already forming on his cheek.

“what did you want me to do? stand there and listen to him and his friends talk about samy in that way? he’s just mad i’d be way better than him,” the blonde scoffed while the others just sighed.

“dude, if coach catches wind that you got into a fight with some kid, you’re not gonna be playing,” ryan shook his head too.

“i’m just standing up for samy which was something kevin was not doing when his friends started talking about her like that. some boyfriend he is.”

the boys exchanged a glance, unsure of what to do, but the they saw kevin coming back over. their glances hardened as they basically shielded will.

“if you’re here to start another fight, you better just turn around now,” ryan said.

“i’m not. i’m here to apologize or whatever,” kevin rolled his eyes.

“i don’t want your fucking apology, man,” will stood up, pushing ryan and gabe out of the way.

“look, me neither but i’m apologizing in hopes that you won’t tell samy what happened,” kevin crossed his arms.

“in hopes that i won’t tell her? you want me to shut my mouth about what your friend was saying about her and how you punched me because i was defending her?” will raised his eyebrow.

“look, dude, i got it all on video and i can send it to your coach and ruin everything for you if you don’t,” the blonde’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“you’re fucking threatening me now?” he looked back at the four boys who were also at a loss for words.

“one click,” kevin held his phone up.

will cursed to himself, running a hand through his hair.

“whatever. i’m sorry,” the blonde huffed.

“good. i’m sorry too,” the brunette held his hand out and pulled will into one of those bro hugs. “and if i hear anything about what actually happened and people talking, i won’t be afraid to post this everywhere,” kevin whispered before will pulled back.

the two exchanged a glance before fully letting go and kevin walking away.

“jesus christ,” gabe mumbled.

“i fucking hate him,” will scoffed before heading back to the stands and hoped no one would see the bruise and ask about it.

marcie did notice it though and so did luke. “dude, what happened to your face?” the girl shrieked.

“nothing,” will kept his eyes down and pulled his hood further over his head.

“nothing? that’s a big fucking bruise, man,” luke said.

“did someone punch you?” marcie kept asking questions.

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” will shook his head.

marcie and luke exchanged a glance, but they decided to let it go for now so they wouldn’t draw anymore attention to it. will’s gaze saw kevin glancing up at him and the blonde really wished he could punch him again. the first time felt really good.

—

ann arbor won the finals in an overwhelming 7-4. the whole section cheered their names as they were awarded their medals and the banner to hold up for a photo. samy’s smile couldn’t be bigger as her teammates lifted her up into the air with the trophy and chanted her name.

everyone lined the railing so samy could go down the line and high five everyone. will kept to the back when she got to them. he didn’t want her to see his bruise and make her worry. she didn’t need that after winning the state championship. the brunette was too caught up in everything that she didn’t even notice will hanging in the back more.

the teams waved one last goodbye before heading back inside to debrief, so the stands started heading out to the parking lot where the players would meet their families for more proper hugs.

will kept his head down the entire time, pretending her was interested in his phone as him and everyone else waited in the parking lot.

“alright, be honest with me. what happened?” marcie was back at it now that they weren’t around everyone anymore.

“i said it’s nothing,” will shook his head.

“bullshit, smith,” marcie looked at the other boys like they would tell her instead.

“it’s fine, i promise, mar,” the blonde said.

“will, you have a bruise the size of a tomato on your cheek. what happened?” the girl wasn’t gonna give it up this time.

“he threatened me, mar. i can’t talk about it,” will snapped a bit.

“who?!”

“who do you think?” ryan cut in.

marcie quickly realized who they were talking about. her entire face fell, “kevin punched you?”

“if i say what happened, he threatened me with the video of it and will send it everywhere, especially my coach. i can’t have that on the internet, especially with this being the last year and my commitment to boston,” will said quietly, making sure kevin or his friends weren’t nearby.

“holy shit, will. why is he threatening you if he punched you?”

“it’s more about what he said and who he doesn’t want to find out,” will hoped marcie would get it without him having to explicitly say it.

she did because her expression turned angrier.

they didn’t have anymore time to talk about it though because the doors opened and the girls poured out, cheers and shouts leaving their lips as the reunited with their parents.

samy came out close to the back, the trophy high in her hands. ellen and jim were hugging her first along with her brothers who were congratulating her. marcie just squeezed will’s arm, telling him they’d talk about this later before jumping over to congratulate her best friend on her third win.

will trailed behind everyone else. he enjoyed the way samy never stopped smiling and the excitement in her expression as she hugged everyone who came up to her.

“so glad you guys came. i loved the signs,” the girl chuckled as she finally got to hugging the boys.

“of course, obviously we’d never miss this,” ryan smiled.

when she got to will the boy ducked his head into her shoulder before she saw the bruise. she squeezed him tightly and he did the same back.

“congrats,” will cheered.

“thanks so much for coming. i think you’re my good luck charm,” the girl chuckled making the blonde flush.

when they pulled away, samy didn’t miss the new bruise on his face this time. she grabbed his face, eyes wide.

“what the hell happened?” she exclaimed which caught the attention of everyone else around them.

will grew nervous, eyes darting to gabe, ryan, aram, drew, or marcie for help.

“i accidentally smacked him when i was cheering. it got crazy in the stands,” marcie spoke up first.

“that hard?” samy didn’t quite believe it.

“my hands flew up when you guys scored and it collided with will’s cheeks. totally my bad. you know how i get,” the girl laughed.

samy glanced between the two before seemingly believing it. “jeez, mar. didn’t know your cheers got so aggressive,” the brunette chuckled and a wave of relief washed through will that she believed them.

no one else asked after that. not even when kevin came over to congratulate her and eyed will when samy wasn’t looking. no one even batted an eye when kevin had a similar, but smaller bruise on his face.

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

ok but what if:

Since you didn’t finish this, allow me.

What if we really are ok in the end. What if things really do turn out to well. What if there actually is hope. What if we aren’t forsaken. What if we can be happy. What if we are at peace in the end. What if things aren’t as scary as we think. What if the monster in the closet was just ourselves. What if we do get to rest by the fire. What if we do get to hang our shoes and coats. What if we can rest. What if it’s not for nothing. What if people do love us. What if people do enjoy our creations. What if they were wrong about saying we wouldn’t make it. What if they were right to have hope. What if there’s a light. What if the solstice comes and the light does too. What if things are better than they seem. What if we get to be happy. What if we can protect each other. What if the apocalypse isn’t as terrible as we thought. What if it never comes. What if it has and we will only get better. What if humans really are good. What if we do love each other. What if evil is simply our creation and we can take it down. What if life really is as simple as a fairy tale. What if we do get our happily ever after. What if these aren’t just “what ifs”. What if it isn’t a tragedy. What if we get our epilogue. What if there is an end. What if there isn’t. What if. What if. What if. What if.

[drizzlesketchingnook]

Meet Lycoris🌹

Wahoo! I finally add my second MC OC for the Sacrarium series into the mix! This guy has been rolling around in my head for a while now as I tried to get a hold of his personality and somewhat of an altered backstory that diverts somewhat from the canon told in Pario.

I have taken a few inspirations from other media, more specifically MaoMao from Apothecary Diaries since her character is fucking fantastic and I had to take some inspiration from her for Lycoris.

As always, there's more information under the cut. And be sure to check out and support @stygianeyedev and everyone involved with the Sacrarium series!

Nickname(s): Lily (Mother), Treasure(VV), Ruby(VV), Voidlight (Title). Ly (Friends)

Age: Early 30's

Height: 6'6"

Pronouns: He/Him

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Demi/Polysexual (Although this isn't realized until the events of Sacrarium Pario as he interacts with Violo and Vivere in the story.)

Profession: Mercenary (current)

Personality: Lycoris is the stone-faced and silent type. Due to this, it has always been difficult or him to express how he feels and for others to read his emotions in any given situation. However, when it comes to anything related to medical items (be it used for healing, harm or otherwise) he immediately lights up and becomes much more animated. Lycoris is also quite awkward when it comes to his emotions and has trouble reading others if they show interest in him as a friend or romantic interest. He prefers to keep emotional distance with others due to the incidents of his past, but is willing to still be kind and helpful despite everything.

Hobbies: Singing, Drawing, Training, Testing out different medicines (posions, aprodisacs, etc.) on himself.

Likes : Music, Training, Botany and Zoology, Night Sky, Medicine

Dislikes: Tourmaline Ring, Backstabbing, Drunkards

Backstory: Before his mother’s death, Lycoris used to assist her in their village’s local apothecary. It was there that he discovered his love for medicine(especially poisons and the like.) and helping out those in need. After that, he still continued to practice like before, albeit much more reckless approach until he had the chance to help out at the local clinic on one of the smaller islands on the Chain Isles.

It was there that he assisted the main doctor there with their patients as their assistant when he wasn’t doing mercenary work or at the local brothel/restaurant. It was there that he befriended both Zhao and Jackie. Over the years, he slowly began to open up to the two and eventually started to develop a crush towards his fellow mercenary. Unfortunately, Fate had other plans and the three were attacked out of nowhere. Zhao and Lycoris fended off the attackers, saving Jackie. Yet, in the end, as expected, Lycoris was betrayed by Zhao and taken by the Tourmaline Ring to sell to the highest bidder.

[soaps-mohawk]

What got you into writing!?

I think it was just a way to get the thoughts and ideas out of my head so I wouldn't forget them.

I've been writing for as long as I can remember. Literally since childhood. I remember in 6th grade planning out this whole long fantasy book series that I was going to write. (It was super dumb but I was eleven years old so 🤷) That was the same year that I started writing my own fanfiction. We read The Lightning Thief in class and my teacher had us for our final assignment write ourselves as campers and pick which cabin we'd be in and write out a little scenario with us interacting with the characters and such. That sort of opened the door to the thought of maybe I could write fanfic. (I'd been reading it for quite a while before that point. I know shame on me lol.) My first fanfic was a PJO fanfic, and it was bad, as most of my early fanfics were.

I was always a big reader, my parents were big into reading and I learned really early how to read and write and those were always my strongest skills in school. I've just always enjoyed writing and I loved it when we were assigned creative writing assignments in class and eventually it just grew into a full time hobby and then a sort of release for all of the things that I get pent up in my head. I put a lot of emotions into my stories because that's how I process my own emotions and things that are happening to me in real life. There's been times where I didn't write much (most of which while I was in college because eww why does school take so much time and energy) and periods where the writers block and inspiration was really low. It always comes back, though. So I'll just keep writing until it doesn't. 💚

[akindplace]

Struggling really bad with migraines. I can’t be here a lot because it’s awful to look at the screen. I’m struggling to walk straight lines because of the dizziness and I can’t sleep because of the pain. The thing about being constantly sick is that… it’s so boring. You can’t really do anything because of the pain, but you also wish you were doing literally anything else instead of being miserable in bed. Most of all, I wish for low pain days and less fatigue. Oh, and I also want so bad to be by the beach.

Queue is on as usual, and it’s safe to say I won’t be around as much as long as this crisis continues.

I hope everyone is doing okay. I wish you all low pain days, less fatigue, and a long seaside vacation.

Lots of love,

Liv

[didhewinkback]

this is how i feel on tumblr dot com tonight

[orcelito]

Got up to pee and hoooooooooo my 3+ hour bike/hike is NOT going unpunished, it seems

The muscle soreness hasn't fully set in yet, either. But I can tell it's gonna be a doozey

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ONE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: none (angst) chapter two┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

The bass from the speakers rattled the glass in your hand as you leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning the backyard for him—Rafe.

It had been a long month.

Longer than you thought it would be. Usually, when you and Rafe had your little “breaks,” they lasted about a week, maybe two at most. It was always something stupid, a screaming match that ended with slammed doors and his truck peeling out of your driveway. But it never lasted. It couldn’t. You’d known each other too long, been through too much, and deep down, there was this unspoken truth—he’d always come back. Or, you would.

But this time was different.

This time, he wasn’t calling or showing up at your window in the middle of the night, eyes tired and sorry, pulling you into his arms. The space between you had been growing wider since his dad died. And sure, maybe it was your fault for what you said after Ward’s death—But it was the truth.

Still, you hadn’t expected him to shut you out completely. Two months. Two months of silence. And the only thing you’d heard about him since was through Ruthie, Topper’s new girlfriend, of all people. A random comment at Mase’s place—something about how Rafe had been hanging around some pogue girl named Sofia.

You’d rolled your eyes at that. Rafe? With some Pogue? Yeah, right. You’d pretended not to care when she tossed it out like it was nothing

You weren’t stupid.

You’d always known Rafe wasn’t the easiest guy to love. He was complicated, angry, reckless—but so were you. And in some messed-up way, that’s why you two worked. Or at least, why you thought you did. You were just as stubborn, just as damaged. But now, as you sipped your drink and looked around, something felt off. Your gut was tight, and that nagging feeling that’d been growing restless under your skin since the breakup only grew stronger the longer you stood there.

You pushed yourself off the railing, discarding your drink on a table before moving through the crowd, past people you knew but didn’t bother with. Your mind was set on one thing—Rafe. You were done with the break. You had your space. It’s time to get back together. It was never even really a question. It was just the way things worked with you two.

But then there was Ruthie—blocking your path, her wide smile dripping with the kind of smugness that set your teeth on edge. She looked like she was reveling in your misery and that little giggle she let out only made it worse.

"So glad you could make it!" she sang out, her voice too sweet, too bright. Her eyes flickered over you like she was sizing you up, taking stock of every inch of your perfectly put-together outfit.

You forced a smile, “Yeah, well, wouldn’t miss a party like this,” you said, keeping your tone casual.

You weren’t in the mood for whatever game she was playing.

“Oh, I just bet,” she replied, her smile growing wider. She stepped closer, her breath reeking of cheap wine, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Ruthie always drank too much at these things.

What the hell was her problem? She always acted like she knew something you didn’t, like she held the keys to all the dirty little secrets in Kildare, and she loved dangling them in front of people just to watch them squirm.

“Ruthie, I swear to God—” you began, but she cut you off, her grin widening.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, “don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. You should really be talking to Rafe about this.” She took a step back, still smiling, and glanced over her shoulder. “He’s around, you know. You can go find him yourself. See how cozy he’s gotten with her.”

You bit your tongue, jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. She was trying to get under your skin, like the snake she’d always been. You couldn’t believe Top was lonely and horny enough to finally fall into her claws.

“Thanks for the tip,” you gave her a tight lipped grimace, brushing past her, didn’t try and wait for her reply.

You only caught glimpses of empty rooms along the way. You hadn’t seen him since the break, and part of you didn’t want to admit how much that messed you up. How much he messed you up. Your steps slowed as you neared the hall that led to the back of the house, the sound of voices filtering through the air. You recognized some, laughed at the drunken ramblings, until one voice cut through the noise. Rafe’s.

And then you heard hers. No fucking way.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You told yourself you just needed to see him, just talk to him, tell him this break had gone on long enough, that you were done with the games. That’s when you heard it again—her laugh. It was light, flirtatious, the kind of laugh that made your stomach turn into a million different directions because you knew exactly what it meant.

She was there, with him.

You moved forward, the hallway barely lit as you reached the half-closed bathroom door. Your breath hitched, hands trembling as you peeked through the small crack, unable to stop yourself from looking.

There they were.

She was smiling, laughing softly at something he’d said, her fingers brushing through her hair as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched his hands move, tying the knot in her bikini with such gentle precision like he’d done it a thousand times. The kind of softness he used to have with you. And then he said it, his voice teasing, amused like this was some kind of inside joke between them.

"God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?"

You froze.

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing against Sofia’s shoulder as he tied the last knot, and the way he touched her—like she was something to be savored—sent a rush of pure, burning humiliation straight through your chest.

You stumbled back, your heart pounding in your ears as Rafe’s words repeated over and over in your head. Landing right in my lap. What the fuck was this?

Your heart clenched, vision blurring as what you were seeing slammed right into you. You backed away, your hand flying to your mouth to stop the sob from escaping. But it didn’t help. Not even à little. The tears burned, and you turned quickly, practically running back through the house and out the door before anyone could see the humiliating mess you were becoming.

It was real. He moved on. In two fucking months.

That’s all it had taken for him to replace you. To be done with you. He was over you. Just like that.

After everything you’d been through together, after all the times you had to pull him out of his own darkness, after the nights spent in his arms when you thought you couldn’t breathe because your whole family was gone—after years of being his and him being yours—how the fuck could he move on when you’d been rotting away in self loathing for pushing him away?

Your head spun as you stumbled down the steps, out to the street where your car was parked. You couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were coming out too fast, too shallow, and your hands were shaking so hard you had to press them against your knees to hold yourself up.

What the hell was wrong with you? You hadn’t even had anything to drink.

But your stomach was rolling, twisting in knots so tight you could barely stand straight. You leaned against the side of your car, the cool metal grounding you to reality for a second before a wave of nausea hit, forcing you to double over and retch onto the pavement. Tears stung your eyes as you coughed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

You felt dizzy, disgusted even, everything you thought you knew, everything you thought was yours, had been ripped out from under you.

Without a single warning. Not a text, not a stupid call, just pure indifference. No respect or regard for you. None of them. Everything you’d just seen replayed in your mind—Rafe, her, the way he touched her like she meant something to him.

“Look who’s still standing!” Topper’s voice. He was laughing as he strolled over, hands shoved in his pockets, that same carefree grin on his face that he always had at parties. “Jesus, what did you have to drink? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Normally, you might have had something to say back, maybe a fiery insult or a roll of your eyes. But right now, everything felt like too much. You couldn’t say a word. You could barely breathe.

Your cousin stopped beside you, his grin dropping as he finally looked at you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He leaned down, trying to catch your eyes. “You good? You look kinda—"

You cut him off, the question was heavy, like a lump lodged in your throat. “Did you know?”

He blinked, the confusion spreading across his face. “Know what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as you forced the words out, your voice shaking. “About Rafe and Sofia.”

You hated saying her name.

Hated that you’d been forced to know it by heart. Topper’s smile dropped, his expression changing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, you knew him well enough to read his micro expressions. You clenched your fists, it felt like you were the only one in the island who’d been let out of the secret.

Surely, your friends, your only family would’ve told you something right? It’s not like you were on a remote island away from them. You’d spent the last month in New York, not in the fucking jungle. You visited occasionally. You were a call away.

“Did everyone fucking know?”

Topper exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we didn’t think it was serious. You know how it is with you two—you’ve done this before. Played with other people…”

Played with other people. Like you and Rafe were just some game, a revolving door of heartbreak and hookups. It didn’t make sense. You’d always known how it worked, understood how these things went—sure, you’d had your minor flings, and he’d had his, but it was never real.

You stumbled back, feeling like you might collapse. “Oh my God, I’m going to be sick again.”

He reached out, obviously concerned since he hadn’t seen you in this desperate state in years, “Hey, hey, calm down. Look, it’s not like it means anything. Rafe’s just—he’s going through a lot with his dad dying, and he… he’s just messing around. You know how he gets.”

But the words did nothing to soothe you. They only made it worse—how everyone knew. How they’d all watched Rafe move on, while you were stuck, still reeling from the breakup, thinking he’d come back like he always did. And he was just out there, with her.

With someone else. You pressed a hand to your stomach, your head hurting. The idea of Sofia, of Rafe being with someone else in ways that only you knew—ways that had always been yours—made you feel like you were being torn apart.

Topper was still talking, still trying to rationalize it, but his words were like static now, blending into the noise of the party behind you. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he was saying. “You know how it goes. You always end up back together. He’s just doing whatever to distract himself.”

That word. Distract himself. Like your entire relationship could be boiled down to that—a series of distractions until you decided to come back to each other, to pick up the pieces and pretend everything was okay.

You could still remember the night your life changed—the phone call, the horrible, gut-wrenching moment when you learned that your family’s private plane had gone down. Your parents. Your sister. Gone. Just like that. And Rafe had been the one to pull you through it. He was the one who had held you as you cried so hard you thought you were going to die, who sat with you in silence when you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, who stayed with you every single night because you were terrified to be alone in a haunted mansion that now felt like a mausoleum.

You had been seventeen, and losing them all at once had killed something inside of you. But he was there. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he knew what it was like to grieve.

He knew loss. He understood. Because you’d been there for him two years earlier, when his mom lost her battle to cancer. You could still see the look in his eyes that day—fourteen years old and already drowning in so much anger and sadness, like the world had ripped something essential out of him.

The way he cried at her funeral when he thought no one was watching, and you’d found him, sat beside him in the cold, letting him cry without saying a word. You hadn’t started dating yet, hadn’t crossed that line, but something had changed between you two in those moments.

A connection, a bond forged in shared pain, in the kind of trauma that no one else really got. Maybe that was why you were so obsessed with each other. Maybe it was fucked up, but you couldn’t imagine anyone else understanding you the way Rafe did.

How could it all come down to this? To you standing here, feeling like the world was ending while he moved on, laughing and touching someone else like nothing you had ever been through mattered?

Was that it? Did that one moment, that one argument about Ward, erase everything you’d done for him?

All the times you’d been there, the way you had comforted him when he felt like his life was spiraling? You remembered exactly what you’d said a month after the funeral, when your boyfriend blamed everyone but Ward for his own death. "He wasn’t a good person, baby. I know he was your dad, but you can’t pretend like he didn’t fuck you up."

You hadn’t even said it to hurt him, not really. It was just the truth. Ward had been a terrible father, controlling and manipulative, and you’d spent years watching Rafe try to live up to some impossible standard, chasing his father’s approval like it would ever be enough. But that didn’t make it easier for him to hear. You should have known better. You should have known how raw he was after losing his dad, how complicated his feelings were.

But instead, you’d been brutal. Honest, but brutal.

And now, two months later, here you were—staring at the empty street, wondering if you’d pushed him too far. If that one moment of honesty was enough to make him forget everything else. Now you were just the ex, the crazy one who didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Fuck, why did I say that?” you whispered to yourself, voice shaking. Why couldn’t you have just let it go?

But then another clarity of anger took over you, pushing away the guilt that had been building inside. So you’d been too harsh about Ward. So you’d said what everyone else had been too scared to say. It wasn’t like you’d been wrong. Ward had messed Rafe up.

Everyone knew it. He knew it, deep down.

You gritted your teeth, staring out at the dark street, the low hum of the party still buzzing faintly behind you. You were never going to get that picture out of your head. Like they hadn’t just met, like you hadn’t spent years learning how to calm Rafe when he spiraled, how to hold him together when he couldn’t hold himself.

Your chest tightened again, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could still feel the weight of his head on your shoulder that night, years ago, when his mom passed. The silent sobs that shook his body, the way he’d held onto you. That was the real Rafe—the one he hid from everyone else. The one who was lost and broken underneath all the anger. And you’d seen him, really seen him in ways no one else ever could. Not Sofia. Not anyone.

"Look, you're emotional, okay? I get it. Maybe it's that time of the month or something. You know how you always get when your hormones go crazy."

The words got to you, but not in the way he probably thought they would. At first, it pissed you off, like it always did when people tried to downplay your emotions. Everyone always said you felt too much. That you were out of control.

But then…

You stopped moving, blinking rapidly as his words spiraled around in your brain. ‘Time of the month’, he'd said.

Your heart started doing summersaults, your stomach dropping as the idea settled in. You grabbed your phone, hands trembling like leaves as you opened the calendar app. You scrolled, trying to think, trying to remember when you’d last…fuck.

You hadn’t had your period in… so long.

Almost two months. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of fucked up joke.

You felt light-headed as you reached for your car again, your body shaking so badly you could barely stand against the door. "Shit."

How could you not have noticed?

Topper noticed the change in you instantly, his brow furrowing. "What’s wrong with you?" he asked, his tone softening a little. "You okay?"

You couldn’t even form a sentence. Your brain was too full of what-ifs. Two months late.

You hadn't even thought about it until now—everything had taken so much space in your head that you hadn't noticed the most obvious sign. This wasn’t possible. Your hand flew to your stomach, almost instinctively. You had no idea what to do with the panic creeping up your throat.

“Shit,” You hissed, this time louder, trying to push the growing dread down. But it wouldn't go away.

He was still staring at you, “What? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

But you were already backing away, shaking your head, “I—I need to go,” You mumbled, barely hearing yourself.

Your cousin moved quickly to block your path as you tried to make your way toward the door. That kind of protective streak only made you want to shove past him even more.

"You’re not driving in this state." he warned you, voice firm, his hands up like he was trying to physically stop you.

You just glared at him, “Fucking watch me.”

He didn’t budge. "You get in that car and I'm calling Rafe," he said, sounding dead serious.

You couldn’t believe it. Your head was already spinning, and he was trying to guilt-trip you like this was some kind of helpful thing to do? You threw your hands up in frustration, voice rising, cracking. "He’s too busy fucking Sofia. Knock yourself out."

The words felt like venom in your mouth, the bitterness rolling off your tongue. You didn’t care how harsh they sounded. You didn’t care about anything anymore except getting away from this suffocating stupid place. Before he could say anything else, you made your move. You pushed past him with all your strength, chest hurting with the urge to feel something other than this suffocating mess of emotions and confusion.

Your hands shook as you fumbled for your keys. You managed to unlock the door, sliding into the driver’s seat, the cool leather biting into your skin.

You needed to think. But all you could think about was that one, terrifying realization: you might be pregnant.

Your breath hitched, terror swirling around your chest. The calendar app was still open on your phone, the dates staring back at you like a flashing red warning sign, daring you to confront the truth you’d been ignoring. Two months. Two months without a period. And you hadn’t even noticed. You pressed a hand to your stomach again, heart pounding as if it was trying to escape your chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

You weren’t thinking clearly—shit, you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay here. Not with Topper trying to baby you, not with him out there, living his best life like you didn’t even exist.

You turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and just as you gripped the wheel, ready to peel out of the driveway, Topper bolted in front of the car, planting himself right there like some kind of human roadblock. Fucking idiot. His arms were stretched out wide, like he could somehow stop you by sheer willpower.

“You’re not doing this, I swear to God, you’re not!” he yelled, his voice frantic, echoing off the dark street. He looked panicked, pleading even, like he was convinced you’d actually go through with it.

You gritted your teeth, eyes narrowing on him through the windshield. “Top, I swear, you have three seconds before I run you over.”

“Are you serious right now?” he yelled, his voice cracking with disbelief. But he didn’t move. “You think I’m letting you drive like this? You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Your fingers gripping the wheel so hard it hurt. You weren’t bluffing. You were too wound up, too out of control. The only thing keeping you from flooring him was the fact that, deep down, you knew your cousin didn’t deserve it.

You just needed to get out of here.

“Move!” you screamed, “I’m not joking’, Topper. Get the fuck out of my way!”

His face twisted with frustration as he looked over his shoulder, something catching his attention. He started waving, yelling at someone, his voice cutting through the night, “Rafe! Dude, get over here!”

Your brain stopped. It was like everything had been sucked out of you. Your hands froze on the wheel, your entire body locking up as you looked to your right and saw him—Rafe. Right there in the yard.

And she was with him. He had his arm draped around her casually, like she belonged there.

Like he belonged there, just standing in the open, so stupidly comfortable in his new life. His head turned when he heard Topper call out, and your eyes locked for a less than a second. A moment too long. A moment that broke something inside you.

While Topper was distracted, his attention on Rafe, you made your move. You slammed your foot on the gas, tires screeching as the car lurched forward, swerving just enough to dodge Topper’s stunned figure. You heard him yell after you, but his voice faded into the background noise as you sped away.

You didn’t look back. Not at Top, not at Rafe.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out everything else. You hated this. Hated that you were crying. Hated that you’d let yourself get to this point.

“God, what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice quavering as the words tumbled out. “Why the fuck am I crying over him? I shouldn’t be crying over him.” You slammed your palm against the steering wheel, angry, disgusted with yourself.

You’d told yourself you were stronger than this—that after everything you’d been through, you didn’t need him or anyone else. But here you were, falling apart like some pathetic excuse of a mess because of him. Because he had always been there, hadn’t he? After the crash, after you lost everything, he was the one constant, the one person who kept you from completely losing it. You’d relied on him so much. Too much.

“Fuck,” you hissed, tears streaming down your face. Your throat burned as the memories came flooding back, memories of all the nights you’d spent together, of him holding you while you cried yourself to sleep, of the way he’d pulled you out of the gloom when you thought you’d never get back up again. You thought he’d always be that person for you, the one who understood your broken pieces because he had his own. You’d always fit together perfectly.

You pulled into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore, your hands still shaking as you put the car in park. The tears had dried up on the drive over, replaced by a cold determination. You didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to even think about what you were about to do.

The moment you stepped out of your car and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the drugstore, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in your own skin. You hadn’t even thought about how ridiculous you must’ve looked until you caught your reflection in one of the store’s glass windows. Your hair, still perfect from earlier, framed your face in soft waves, and your makeup was flawless, despite the crying. The designer dress you were wearing—sleek, red, and worth more than half the shit in this store—with its sticky floors and white lights, it made you feel like an alien. Like you didn’t belong.

You caught the eyes of a couple of people loitering outside the entrance as you walked in, their stares lingering a little too long, murmuring to each other behind smirks. You knew they were talking about you. They always did, kook queen, overdressed, out of touch, bitch, whatever they wanted to call you.

The sliding doors let out a grating beep as you entered, and the air inside was stale and heavy, reeking of floor cleaner and cheap perfume. You adjusted your grip on your purse, strutting past the aisles with your head high even though everything inside you felt like it was falling apart.

You always did this—dressed to kill, head up, like armor. But there was no real glamour in buying pregnancy tests from some random pharmacy in the middle of the night. No way to mask the deep, growing hysteria in your bones.

The girl behind the register clocked you the second you stepped up to the counter, her eyes dragging over your like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. You could almost hear her thoughts: What the hell is someone like you doing here?

You didn’t even look at her. You just wanted to pay and leave without a scene. But of course, people always found a way to make things worse. She hesitated before scanning the tests, looking like she might say something. For her own good, you prayed she didn’t.

You threw the money on the counter before she could open her mouth, two crisp hundreds on top of the total. The cash hit the counter with a sharp thwap and you gave her the bitchiest look you could muster. “Take it. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she slid the bills into the register. You didn’t care that she was young or nervous. You weren’t here to make friends. You weren’t here for anyone’s sympathy. The extra money would make sure she didn’t talk, that was all that mattered.

You walked out, your heels clicking against the linoleum, head high, even though every nerve in your body screamed for you to disappear. You slid into your truck, slamming the door shut, the silence finally hitting you. For all the designer clothes, the makeup, the money—none of it meant shit right now. You felt so small. So scared. Terribly lonely.

You sat there for what felt like forever, staring at the stupid bag in the passenger seat like it had the power to ruin your whole life—which, to be fair, it kind of did. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do. Not about any of it.

Your foot tapped nervously against the floor mat, the sound too loud in the quiet car. The bag crinkled as you glanced at it again, your stomach twisting all over again. A bunch of pregnancy tests. How had it come to this?

Rafe. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to think about him, not to picture his face when he found out. If he found out. Shit, what the hell was he going to do? He was with Sofia now, right? So was this going to ruin his life too? Did he even deserve to know?

It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Maybe the separation anxiety had gotten to you. Maybe your body was just fucked up from all the stress. Maybe your period was just late because you’d been so all over the place lately. There could be a million reasons. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if it wasn’t nothing.

You didn’t want to cry anymore. Not after all of this. Not over Rafe. Not over your life turning into some fucking soap opera you didn’t even want to be a part of.

The second you were inside your house, the walls closed in around you. Your perfectly decorated place—the one you’d spent so much time making into a refuge, an escape—it didn’t feel like that anymore. Every designer pillow, every carefully chosen piece of art, mocking you.

Your phone buzzed in your bag, you reached for it. Of course, it was Rafe.

“I don’t know what the fuck that was but save the fucking dramatics, okay?”

The nerve. The fucking nerve of him to act like he was the center of your universe, acting like you were some inconvenience. Months of silence and this was the first thing he decided to text you? Knowing how much you despised when people called you a drama queen? Fucking piece of shit.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, a thousand different responses running through your mind. You wanted to tell him to shove something up his ass. But you did the only thing that felt right in that moment.

You blocked him. You stared at your phone, half expecting it to buzz again, half dreading that it wouldn’t. It was done. You cut him off, at least in that tiny, virtual way. You sat there for a minute, gripping the phone, trying to remember how to breathe.

This was supposed to feel empowering, right? You told yourself it would. That cutting him out would help you get back some control. But your mind wouldn’t settle. Those damn pregnancy tests were sitting in the bag next to you.

You were tired.

Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with how late it was or how emotionally spent you were. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as you sank into the plush couch. Your house felt cold and unwelcoming tonight. Like a showroom. No comfort to be found. Not here, not in the muted tones of beige and white. Not in the sleek lines of furniture that were supposed to exude elegance and sophistication.

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently.

Maybe you’d wake up with a clear head, ready to take the stupid tests. Maybe you’d be strong again like you’d been so many times before.

Tonight, you were just tired. You leaned back against the cushions, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the noise in your head to quiet down. Sleep. That’s what you needed. Just a few hours to clear your mind, and in the morning, you’d deal with everything.

All of this would go away.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb

@rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2 @starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols

@icaqttt

[cute-little-crow]

Sylus discovers you are ovulating and his reaction is… intense (pt. 2)

tw: female reader, read part one for context, little bit of brat reader, brat tamer Sylus, reader is ovulating, heavy breeding kink (with a capital B), hair pulling, nipple play, dirty talk, spanking, safe word (not used), mirror sex, mounting, creampie, multiple orgasms, biting, marking… phew I think that’s everything 🫣

Part One

Water droplets ran the length of your overheated skin, the temperature little to do with the bath you had emerged from, and everything to do with the clipped instructions Sylus had thrown your way moments ago…

“Five minutes. You have five minutes to get out and get onto all fours on our bed. I want to see my pretty pussy glistening and ready for me… maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you, if you’re lucky.”

You hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction to your admittance that you were ovulating and feeling more than a little needy. Instead of trying to keep yourself from Sylus, it seemed you should have trusted that he would be able to cope with your raging hormones. Plus, it was painfully evident that the knowledge turned him on.

Hesitating, you debated between towel drying yourself before slinking into the bedroom or leaving yourself dripping wet. You were already slippery between your thighs… would it really matter if there a little more lubrication on your skin?

A shudder coursed down your spine and giving in to your body, you quickly wiped away the worst of the water from your arms and legs. The towel lay discarded on the bathroom floor, as did your freshly cleaned pjs, they weren’t necessary right now.

The adjoining bedroom was empty, quiet—too quiet.

Every nerve was on high alert whilst you scanned around cautiously for Sylus and found no trace of him. That fact alone only heightened your senses and drew your gaze to the large mirror hung above your vanity.

Naked. Aroused. Vulnerable. Sensitive. Erotic.

You were all those words and more. The longer you stared at yourself, the bolder you felt. You watched as your thighs subtly pressed together. Hypnotised by the plump, swollen tips of your nipples. The throb of your clit worsening by the second.

Slowly, you knelt on the bed. Your knees sank into the rich comforter, your feet brushing against the overstuffed pillows whilst you positioned yourself as requested—on all fours with your pussy on display for when Sylus walked through the door.

The seconds ticked by and every one of them felt like an eternity. An agony to endure. White hot heat bloomed low in your belly, and you closed your eyes to focus on your breathing.

“My my… what a good girl you are,” Sylus crowed suddenly.

You gasped, elbows near buckling when his voice appeared out of nowhere. There had been no approaching footsteps, no telltale snick of the door opening and closing. Had he appeared in a haze of obsidian and crimson?

Glancing over your shoulder, you took him in with an audible moan of appreciation. His tall frame stood near the bottom of the bed, naked from the waist up with thin silk bottoms resting low around his hips. He was naked beneath them; the heavy outline of his cock more than evident to your gaze.

His fingers slid beneath your chin as he walked around to near your head, drawing your eyes back up to his face only to cock one eyebrow in amusement.

“Eyes up here, sweetie.”

You pouted; chasing the pad of his thumb when it passed over your pursed lips with the wet tip of your tongue. Sylus obliged your whim, pushing past your lips to press down on your warm pink tongue until he pulled it free again with a quiet pop.

“You’ve done so well, but I think we need to adjust you slightly… allow me,” he purred, kneeling on the bed to grasp you by the hips.

Squeaking at being so easily manhandled, Sylus began to move your lower half, leaving you to quickly scrabble on your hands until you were face to face with the mirror from earlier. Oh fuck…

“There we go, now you can see me whilst I take this ripe pussy and make it mine.”

“Sylus…”

Your lashes fluttered low, his hand cupping your entire sex until you trembled and bowed on the bed. His fingers curled back only to slap lightly at your highly sensitised skin.

“Remember, kitten, you asked for rough,” he intoned coolly at the same time his free hand grasped a handful of your hair and drew you upward so your back rested against his chest.

His tongue laved the shell of your ear, a groan rumbling in his throat as he trailed hot, insistent lips down your neck to suck marks hungrily onto your throat. Your hips circled, pushing your backside into the straining erection and wetting the crotch of his trousers in the process.

All you could do was moan. Your brow knitted together as you allowed yourself the freedom to experience him freely and without embarrassment or restraint.

Sylus was anything but gentle when both arms wound around your waist and his hands grasped at your breasts. He rolled your puffy buds between his fingers, tugging and pulling until you were panting and squirming from the stimulation.

“They’re sensitive, aren’t they? Mhm,” he enthused at your nodding head. “Imagine how sensitive they’ll be once you’re round with my child. I’d bet good money on my ability to make you orgasm from suckling them alone.”

What this man was doing to you should be criminal. His words mirrored the depravity of his touch, rough and lacking any grace, but goddammit, that’s what you wanted—needed!

In a moment of what you could only describe as pure madness, you huffed through your nose and dared to poke the bear…

“Are you going to fuck me or just keep talking?”

From the reflection in the mirror you could see the surprise in his expression. It flickered across his features for the briefest of seconds before morphing into something dark, mischievous, sinful.

“Kitten has claws tonight. I see how it is… let’s see how well you can speak when you get what you’re asking for. Ass up, no complaints. Safe word?”

Sylus barely waited for you to bend forward before landing three consecutive smacks to your ass, ending it by rubbing the heated flesh and dipping his fingertips between your slit.

“Red,” you replied through gritted teeth, waiting and anticipating his next actions with that same hot desire swirling like mercury inside your stomach.

He leaned over you back and lowered your face to the sheets with his palm, your body arched to perfection and your cheek smooshed sideways so you could still see in the mirror but you were far more restricted now. You watched him draw to full height on his knees, shucking the bottoms down his thighs and obviously fisting his cock, although your backside obscured your view.

“You’re already clenching,” he chided, spitting onto his fingers and smearing the saliva along your folds. “Rough is fine but I don’t want you in pain so… relax?”

His voice was like velvet dragged over rough skin, commanding but sincere, a walking contradiction but you wouldn’t—couldn’t—deny him a single thing.

Sylus thumbed at your entrance, pushing inside with an appreciative groan. His carmine eye focused fixedly on how your plush walls tried to pull him deeper.

Thoughts of emptying himself inside your cunt filled his mind and he could hold himself back no more. With one final languid pump of his cock, he tapped his purpled tip against your clit then notched himself steadily.

“Baby, please?”

Sylus chuckled darkly. “You’re asking to get pregnant now? That’s cute.”

“That’s not—”

Your words were cut short by your wonderfully smug partner thrusting into you. It was harsh, and you got the impression he had intended to impale you fully in one blunt swing of hips but the grunt followed by a kissing of teeth was enough to tell you that he was not seated to the hilt as desired.

The stretch was bliss, arousal loosening your walls to accommodate him nicely, but he was impressive and taking him whole was always a marathon and not a sprint, despite what he may wish for.

Sylus thumbed at your clit, stroking around and around until you were pulsing and wriggling. With every roll of your hips and little fidgets, he inched closer to his goal until he was snug in your cunt with the tip of him close to brushing your cervix if he weren’t careful.

You mewled beneath him. Eyes hazy but still watching his face in the mirror and the contraction of his abdominals when he eased himself out slowly. His plump bottom lip became trapped between his sharp incisors, nostrils flaring at the heady aroma of your nectar.

“Fuck—kitten—you’re so tight.”

Leaning on your arms, you brought yourself a little higher and preened when he whimpered at the movement, at how your pussy hugged his every vein.

Yes, he was in control and yes, he was turning you into a puddle of nothing but sensations, but there was a sense of power that you were the reason he groaned thickly and his fingers grabbed so desperately at the fat of your ass and hips.

Sylus spread your cheeks apart, his wide palms kneading at you whilst his hips started to snap harder and faster into you, knocking the air loose from your chest.

Every thrust seemed to puncture your lungs, the sounds pouring out of you like a debauched melody grew in pitch and volume until you were sure only animals could hear you. He brought you to the very precipice and when you thought he might be mean and pull back, Sylus only plunged you over the edge into the abyss of pleasure.

His pelvis smacked wetly against your behind, the steady drip of juices tracking down your thighs to ruin the sheets just like your blissed out tears. Your pussy was overstimulated, your clit aching from the precise manipulation he occasionally gifted you between moments where he was pounding you out with such speed and force it seemed almost unnatural.

“Got… any complaints… now?” He punched out the words, breathless and ragged.

Your head shook emphatically, jaw dropped at the continued stimulation that was forcing you nearer and nearer another orgasm on the heels of the first.

This time, when your cunt fluttered and your thighs trembled, Sylus let himself go too. You could feel the warmth of his heavy load, the idea of his seed inside you making your eyes roll over in sheer bliss.

You expected this to be the end. You were certainly satisfied, your muscles ached deliciously and your skin felt slick with sweat and arousal.

Certainly you didn’t expect when Sylus braced a palm on the small of your back and changed his position.

The man was mounting you like an animal!

His large palms held your waist, forcing your hips higher and his face into the crook of your neck. Sylus huffed into you, open-mouthed kisses spread outward to your shoulder and back again.

“Fuck… fuck! Take it, kitten. You can take it, right? Yes you can. My perfect girl.” His breathing was erratic, the vibration of his voice bouncing around and igniting you in a way you didn’t think possible.

The wet squelch of your already filled pussy failed to drown out the noises directed in your ear and you swore for a second you lost complete control of your limbs. You willingly ceded your control to Sylus and trusted him implicitly with your safety.

“Oh god! Sylus, I—oh fuck me,” you cried into the sheets.

“I am, baby, I am. Just like that. Your pussy is milking me. I could fuck you like this for hours. Mm… what an idea.”

Sharp teeth bit into your neck, the relief of the welcomed pain broke you into an orgasm and it forced Sylus to follow you over the cliff edge into oblivion. He huffed into your neck once more, guttural groans mingled with your cries of pleasure.

It took you awhile to recover, your heart continuing to race whilst your body slowly drifted back to earth. Sylus rolled to his side, taking you with him. His body took the brunt of the impact and he cradled you tenderly in his arms, cock still plugging you nicely.

“You asked for rough but now it’s time for soft, my precious sweetheart.”

Gradually, you succumbed to sleep. The sensation of being held, along with your hair being stroked and your back lightly caressed was more than enough to drag you into the blackness of slumber. Your tired muscles would protest in the morning, but right now…

you couldn’t care less.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

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