#←← watch me never using this tag ever again

[written-in-flowers]

His Darling: Demon!San x Fem!reader

Pairing: Incubus!San x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairing: yunho x reader, demonline x reader

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Smut (loads), slight angst MINORS DNI

Summary: San shows you his room and tells you exactly what he wants in a "housewife". He also shows you the benefits of keeping him happy.

Tags: enslavement, master/slave relationship, polyamorous relationship, demon!ateez, human!reader, stereotypical gender roles, gender norms, slight misogynistic ideals, mentions of domestic violence, childhood trauma, bigdick!san, incubus!san, breeding kink (serious one lol), thigh riding, voyeurism, handjob, dirty talking, light spanking, table sex, clothed man/naked woman, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, monster fucking, demon fucking, Yunho walks in on it and watches. You're their slave, and you're treated that way.

Previously on Pretty Pet

***

“-What do we do? I've never handled a human slave before. What do they eat?”

“Food, I imagine.”

“Yes, but what? And what about her grooming? Has Wooyoung styled a human before?” 

“No idea. All I know is what Yunho told me…”

You heard their voices above you, but you could not place them. A low groan escaped you as the aftermath of last night made itself known again. Every appendage felt sore and heavy, and your innards might have actually been rearranged. You almost did not comprehend your hunger until you'd completely woken up. Is this how you'd wake up every morning? 

“Wake up,” a soft voice commanded. “We have a lot to do before you're presentable. Let's get moving.”

“Yeosang” the harder toned voice said, “Don't be so aggressive this early in the morning. She hasn't fully adjusted to this yet. She needs space to process.”

“Ugh, ‘space to process’. Yes, tell that to Yunho and see how that goes for you. He's already in a mood after having to bury that idiot slaver. Go ahead and tell him you diverted from his schedule.”

“That isn't what I meant-”

You finally opened your eyes to see two men on either side of your bed. Each of them wore black suits and had black upturned horns. One was significantly more petite and paler than the other. A red wine birthmark covered the side of his eye, contrasting with his fair skin. The other on the right was a round faced demon with dark brown hair. He carried an innocent, soft expression while his companion looked on sternly. 

“Who are you?” You croaked through your strained throat.

They both finally acknowledged you. “Oh,” the dark haired demon grinned, “I'm Jongho.”

“And I'm Yeosang. We're your new handlers. Now, get up. We have to get you groomed before the Masters wake up.” 

Yeosang turned and walked away to the tall double doors. Jongho stayed at your side, “Forgive him. They told him about you this morning, and he's been cranky ever since. He claims it ‘threw him off’.” 

He pulled down the fluffy bed covers from you, revealing your naked body to the sunlit room. He acted as if he didn’t notice your nudity, and offered you his arm. This proved helpful since you didn't see the platform step and nearly tripped into his arms. Your legs and knees quaked weakly once you stood up, and you winced from the stinging between your legs. 

“The only downside to good sex, huh?” He quipped, giving a knowing smile. 

“Yeah.”

“Don't worry,” he picked up a thin, white chemise from a nearby chair, “The bath Master San prepared will help with that. He said a bit of soothing salt will take it away.” You lifted your arms for him to slip the chemise over you, “Let's get you washed up before Yeosang comes back whining again. You'll get used to his little tantrums soon enough,” he linked his arm with yours to help you walk properly, “Wrath demons can be so sensitive. I told him we should give you a minute to adjust and he was all ‘Yunho will get mad’. Ugh…”

You hadn't noticed the room last night, but now seeing it full of sunlight, you took in the splendor. White paneled walls inlaid with gold surrounded the room’s oak wood floors and went up high into the ceiling. You saw an oak vanity, a wardrobe cabinet, dresser and a desk around the room. It was a step up from the singular room in the bowels of the brothel. At least here you had privacy and fresh air through the tall windows. 

Jongho brought you into a tiled room where a large bathtub sat in the very middle. White bubbles floated along the top of the steaming water, the soothing scent of lavender reaching your nose. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper bath; you usually did a quick wipe down to keep the fluids from crusting on your skin. Yeosang rolled over a small cart ladened with various tubs and bottles you only assumed were meant for bathing. Big eyes looked up to the fake horns still on your head, and he forced you down into a seat. 

“These look ridiculous,” he huffed, peeking through the roots to see where the braiding kept it on your head. With expert fingers and a fine-toothed comb, he gradually began undoing them. “Good thing they didn’t use stronger glue. We might not have been able to remove these,” he said once he finished with one side. “Those valley slavers are true scoundrels. I don’t blame Master San for slitting the man’s throat.”

“Oh dear,” Jongho frowned, “Had they glued on a tail?”

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“Why?” asked Yeosang. 

Jongho lifted your chemise to show the scabbed area. “I hope it doesn’t scar,” he said. “Master Seonghwa won’t like that.”

“Hm, doesn’t seem too bad to me,” Yeosang said, resuming his horn removal. “We’ll apply some ointments to avoid scarring and infection. Get the tub ready.” 

When he removed the second “horn”, you breathed a sigh of relief. This did not last long because Yeosang and Jongho lifted the chemise off your body, and put you into the tub. Neither of them said anything as they went about the bathroom. Each of them took a side of the tub: Jongho dipped a soft cloth into the water to start cleaning your grimy skin while Yeosang squirted a pink substance into your hair. 

“Who is Yunho?” you asked out of curiosity, watching Jongho begin washing between your fingers and under your nails. 

“He’s the Head of House here,” said Yeosang, spreading the shampoo in your hair. “We all answer to him, including you.”

“I thought Hongjoong-”

“-Master Hongjoong, girl,” he said sternly, digging into your scalp. You didn’t know how he managed to scrub it, but he did. “They are your masters now; that is how you address them at all times. Even if they’re not in the room, you show your respect and gratitude. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“As I was saying,” he continued, pouring water into your hair with a cup and continuing to scrub more, “Yunho is the Head of House-”

“-He means the house staff-” Jongho explained. 

“-And he’s in charge of anything having to do with the domestics in the house,” he said. “This includes kitchen and housekeeping duties. Now that the masters have a slave, you indirectly fall under his care. He will be your communication between the masters and you when they’re not present. Anything regarding you is taken directly to him, and he decides how to proceed from there.”

“Indirectly?”

“He’s our boss, technically,” Jongho said, starting to gently wipe at your neck, face and chest. “Yeosang is the Chief Handler, so he takes care of everything concerning you: grooming, training, and well being. I’m his assistant. Let’s say you fall ill, Yeosang takes care of getting to the doctor, medicine and other medical needs while I make sure you are as comfortable as possible.” 

“You mentioned someone named Wooyoung?” you asked next, wiping water from your eyes when he finished. 

“He’s a slave groomer,” Yeosang told you. He rinsed out your hair as best as he could, then decided a second wash was needed. You felt his fingers digging into your scalp as if doing so loosened the oils left there. You wanted to protest, but you felt that would be pointless. “He is the best. He’ll be in charge of your physical appearance and your wardrobe. Apparently, the masters demanded you have three separate wardrobes, but I imagine he’ll be handsomely paid for the work.”

“Are there other slaves here?”

“You mean, pleasure slaves like you?”

“Yes.”

“No. The Masters never bothered with pleasure slaves up until recently. They usually called on a brothel owner to bring his prettiest ones, and they’d have their fun with that. I guess having one pleasure slave is cheaper in the long run.”

“They’d mentioned something about making me into what they want,” you said. “I’m not sure what they meant by that.”

“Me neither,” Jongho mused, cleaning your legs and feet. “I suppose they are bored with the succubi the brothel people bring. A lot of them are trained in the same classical way, so perhaps they wanted something new?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yeosang said, running a thin white liquid through your hair, “It’s not our place to question their motives.” The new shampoo stung your scalp, and you reached up to touch it before he swatted your hands away. “It’s a pest treatment.”

“I do not have pests!” you exclaimed in shock. 

“Judging by how this is foaming in your hair, yes, you did,” he started running another comb over only the roots before loosening into the rest of your hair, “I don’t know how they bedded you last night. You’re filthy.”

“It’s not her fault, Yeosang,” Jongho came to your defense, rinsing the body wash off your skin. “Those lower class brothels are infested with disease and filth.” 

“I am not dirt-”

“-Save it,” Yeosang cut you off. “As I said, the masters have their reasons and we have no right to question them.” 

“But we can wildly speculate,” Jongho grinned. “She deserves to know why they chose her over a succubus or another type of demon. It must be confusing for her.”

“It can’t be that confusing. Why does it even matter? She is here now, and that’s it. End of story.”

“They never showed interest in the sinners outside of entertainment before.”

“Sex is another form of entertainment, Jongho.”

“Yes, but they usually mate with other demons, not humans. I’m only saying it is strange. Do you think they did it to spite Her?”

“Who?” you asked, squeezing your eyes as Yeosang rinsed the treatment out in a separate bucket. When he pulled you away, you saw all the dirt he’d removed.You gasped at the tiny dots floating in the water. 

“Their mother,” Yeosang said, pulling you back in front of him. This time he slathered a mint-colored paste through your strands. “And no. In order to spite someone, you must actually care what they think.” 

Jongho finished scrubbing you with the first wash, then pulled out two scrubbing brushes. From a small white tub, he began smearing an exfoliant on your skin. It tingled and smelled of cucumber. “She won’t be pleased when she hears they have a pleasure slave now.” 

“And that will be of no concern to them.” He let the paste sit in your hair, and joined Jongho in lathering you in the pale green cleanser. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up. We need to wash all of you before we apply the body toner, the exfoliant, the mud masks, and the serums and oils,” he said. “I told you this would be a long process. Stand up.”

You stood up, the air chilling your wet skin, and the two men started scrubbing. Their brushes scratched your skin raw, removing layers of grime and oil from you. You thought more about your new masters. You remembered them mentioning their plans for you. Hongjoong wanted the “perfect submissive”. Seonghwa wanted a “doll”. San wanted a “wife”. You assumed they couldn’t achieve their wishes with any regular slave, so they needed a slave from a lower level brothel. The high-class demon slaves must be a dime a dozen to these demon lords. With you, they believe they have a slave with no particular talents or skills. You didn't dare mention that you'd technically lied, but it's not your fault they never asked. If they want to shape you, you'd let them. You'd do anything to avoid going back to the brothel; not when you have such a good thing going here. 

You jumped when a cold hand touched between your legs. Yeosang said nothing as he covered your sex in a bright blue foam. Since it lacked any sensuality, you couldn’t help feeling a bit of embarrassment. 

“Does it sting?” he asked you from his crouched position. 

“No?”

“Good. Then that means there are no lesions we have to worry about.” 

You yelped next when Jongho applied the same foam to your backside. “Sorry,” he giggled, “I should have warned you first. The masters asked us to do a thorough clean up before Wooyoung arrives.” 

“I will say,” Yeosang said, “You do have a very nice body. I can see why the masters took you right away, filth and all.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Take it,” Jongho whispered when he stood behind you, “It’s the closest you’ll get to a compliment.” 

Jongho applied lotion to your top half while Yeosang took care of the bottom half. The same was done when they took you to a chair near the window. As Jongho cleaned, cut and shaped your nails, Yeosang did the same with your toes. You thought it might fall under Wooyoung’s jurisdiction, but you didn’t question it. Your head went back to wrapping itself around everything happening. You clearly have entered a new class of slave, and you didn’t know if that was good or bad. You aren’t particularly special apart from being moderately good at things and a damned human soul. What interest would they have in that? If they grew tired of their own kind, you knew they’d eventually lose interest in you too. You shuddered to think what that looked like. 

So, you must do whatever they say. Just like everything in your new life, if you make the higher-ups happy, you stay where you are. You would not have gotten to a top-rank position in your previous life otherwise. 

“Is she presentable?” 

Yunho appeared in the doorway in his black suit, hands behind his back and seriousness on his face. Both Yeosang and Jongho shot up the moment they saw him, not bothered by the tools falling to the floor. 

“Yes, sir,” said Yeosang in a curt nod. 

He walked further into the room and looked over your nude body. “Hm, yes, I suppose this will have to do,” he approved. “Wooyoung is in the dressing room. Take her there, and I’ll send Mingi to meet you. Her breakfast?”

“Cook is already preparing her breakfast as we speak, sir.” 

“The Masters explicitly asked that she maintain a healthy diet,” he said. “They’ve requested three square meals, treats if she’s well behaved and snacks to stave off hunger. I already told Cook how they want her meals planned out. It should be ready by the time Wooyoung finishes. I'll send Mingi to collect her when he's done.”

“Who is Mingi?” 

“Your bodyguard,” he answered, “The Masters insisted you be watched over at all times. Mingi is the best of the best. He will make sure you’re safe when The Masters are absent.”

“That’s…nice of them.”

Yunho stepped forward, “I don’t think you realize exactly who you belong to now, YN. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and San are three of Prince Asmodeus’s many offspring which earns them high-born status and royal titles. They are important men in this realm. They can't be seen owning a dirty pleasure slave. What would people think?”

“I was under the impression they don’t care what anyone thinks.”

He laughed softly, “They don’t and they do simultaneously. Unless you enjoyed being infested with fleas?”

“I didn’t have fleas,” you argued. 

Yunho huffed, “Regardless, Yeosang, they’re waiting in the dressing room.”

“Of course.”

Both Yeosang and Jongho bowed as he left the room. They grabbed a new, thicker chemise for you to wear and took you back through the bedroom and into a separate room. It was a large closet from what you guessed. Women dressed in maid’s outfits walked about the space hanging up clothes, stacking shoeboxes, and storing jewelry. In the middle of the room stood a skinny, black-haired demon in a black suit with shimmering cuffs and hem line. He directed a pair of maids to hang up three black dresses in the second clothing rack instead of the first. 

“Seonghwa is the eldest, so let’s keep this by age order. Hongjoong’s wardrobe is in the middle, thank you,” he said to them. He turned to see Yeosang and Jongho by the dressing room door, and he beamed brightly. “Yeosangie! Jongho! How are you?!”

He hugged both men happily, “So good to see you both again. I thought I’d never get another job in the Black Keep after Mistress left. Where is she?”

“Right here,” Jongho brought you forward. “Wooyoung, this is YN. YN, this is Wooyoung, your groomer.”

“Hello,” you said, trying to smile.

“Aren’t you a beauty?” Wooyoung marveled, walking around you in a circle. “When Yunho told me to expect slum trash, I was expecting matted hair, scars, fleas and sores. This one can almost pass as a demon if you look at her in the right lights. You sure she’s not a cambion?”

“No, she’s not a half-breed,” said Yeosang. “I hope this means you’re satisfied?”

“Very,” he grinned, touching one of your wet locks, “She’s like a fresh canvas. I can’t wait to get started. You two can leave; you, come with me.”

He shooed your handlers away and brought you over to a vanity mirror. Right away, maids surrounded the both of you. Wooyoung dried your hair the way you normally would, taking as much time as he needed, before adding protectants and serums. Your hair smelled like rosemary oil by the time he finished braiding and weaving it into a halo shape. The maids applied light makeup while two more painted your nails in a french manicure. 

“You’re a groomer, huh? Like a stylist, right?”

“Kind of,” he said, walking over to a section separate from the three main clothing stations, “I cater to the upper classes rather than the poorer ones. Rich demons like their slaves to look pretty, and those common stylists simply do not have the vision nor the taste that my clients have. I can make a slum slut look like a princess, while the one you had could barely pass you off as a succubus.” He stood in front of the opposite wall, staring at the different outfits he’d brought with him. “That’s why your masters called on me to dress you.” 

“What are you dressing me with today?”

“I have no idea. They didn’t tell me which of them you’d be with today, so I’ll go with my gut on this. I’ll go with…” he scanned the rack, fingers dancing over the different fabrics before stopping, “Yes, this one should be nice. It’s simple, clean and pretty. You have no idea how many times the word ‘pretty’ was used in that letter. My assistants and I played a drinking game with it.” 

He brought over a short pale blue sundress. It reminded you of the dresses you used to wear at your summer house. Flowing dresses that kept you cool in the summer season and left a bit to the imagination. Your boss at the time loved seeing you in shorter sun dresses, but you only wore those to please him. Sleeping with him got you the office manager position you’d wanted. Your masters reminded you of him in a way: A horny rich man with particular kinks and preferences. Back then, you played whatever trope your lover wanted. You endured their flirtations because it meant you’d climb higher on the ladder; you’d have more money, more freedom. 

When you died in that club bathroom, you lost all of that. 

Yeosang and Jongho returned, followed by another man. He stood taller than both of them, with long blond hair he kept to his shoulders. Like most of the house staff, he wore a suit, except he looked more militarized with the buttons down the front and a sword sheathed at his waist. He gave you the same stone stare a lot of people around here had. 

“YN, this is Mingi,” Yeosang introduced the guard behind them. “He’s your bodyguard. He'll be in charge of your security and safety.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said as Wooyoung slipped the dress over your head and fixed it around your waist. 

Mingi only nodded his head. 

“Hurry and finish,” Yeosang said to you, “The Masters have woken up already and they’re already having breakfast.”

“I'm going, I'm going. I’m putting the very last touches,” Wooyoung grabbed a perfume bottle, then sprayed it all around you. “There, she’s ready.” 

Coughing on the scent of vanilla in the air, you looked at yourself in a nearby mirror. The person that looked at you in the mirror resembled the living version more than the dead one. The living you adorned herself with luxury brands, went to the salon regularly, drove fancy cars, had a penthouse where she threw parties every weekend. She had her own stockbroker company; she rolled in money regardless of how many lives she'd ruined. She stared at you now in the mirror, looking the same except for her eyes. Your eyes. They did not have the confidence or perhaps arrogance you once carried. No amount of makeup could conceal the emptiness inside. 

“They’re going to be so pleased!” Jongho beamed, a gummy smile bringing up his cheeks. “She looks wonderful!”

“Well done, Wooyoung,” Yeosang bowed slightly, “You’ll be paid handsomely for this.”

“I hope so,” he said, “And well done to you too. I heard she was a mess when they brought her here.”

“Filthy, for certain,” he replied. “Come, I’ll take you to Yunho for your payment. Jongho, take YN to her masters. They’re in the dining room.”

“Yes.”

Yeosang and Wooyoung left the room, and Jongho turned to you. “You look beautiful, YN,” he grinned at you, leading you out of the dressing room through another door. Walking into a carpeted hallway, Mingi stayed five steps behind you while Jongho walked beside you. 

“Wooyoung really knew what he was doing when he dressed you in that. It’ll go nicely with your collar when The Masters go to pick it up.”

“Collar?”

“You didn’t think you’d be walking around without one, did you? How else are people supposed to know you belong to someone already?” 

“Right…I never gave it much thought.”

“Well, I haven’t seen it yet, but I bet it’s going to be beautiful. Nothing like those leather straps I see the common slaves wear,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll match your leashes too.”

You hated leashes. If being owned by someone didn’t strip you of your humanity, being tugged around on a leash did. Rufus used to tell you that sort of freedom needed to be earned; it wasn’t given automatically. At least you had a bedroom and not a pet bed or a cage. 

Jongho led you through several corridors before bringing you into a dining room. More posh furniture, expensive possessions and fancy artwork surrounded the room. At a dining table, you saw the three brothers sitting together. They each picked at the breakfast spread laid out before them, talking as they ate and drank. None of them noticed either you or Jongho, so wrapped up in their conversation that they didn’t care for the servants nearby. You took sight of the other maids standing by; how they remained silent like statues, meant to be seen and only called upon when needed. 

“Masters,” Jongho said to get their attention, “Your pet is here.” 

The three of them smiled when they saw you. Eyes undressed you a second time, mouths dropping open and eyes growing heavy. 

“She looks phenomenal,” Seonghwa said first. “Like a delicate piece of cake.”

“A yummy cake,” Hongjoong smirked, eyes far too focused on your chest. “I personally prefer her with nothing at all.”

“We discussed this already, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa looked at him, “She is not walking about here naked.”

“She doesn't have to be fully naked,” he remarked. “Lingerie works just as well.”

“I think she's lovely either way,” said San, “Sit with us.”

Jongho brought you to the other side of the table. All three of them continued staring, and you didn't know how to react or feel. Jongho pulled your chair out for you, placed a cloth napkin in your lap and pushed you forward. He said nothing as he left you alone with your new Owners. 

“How are you feeling, Pet?” Hongjoong asked, returning to his breakfast. “Not too sore, I hope.”

“Nothing beyond what I normally feel,” you admitted. Sitting did feel uncomfortable, but nothing you could not manage on your own. 

“Really? No stinging pain or soreness anywhere?” San asked, drinking from a coffee cup. “You don't have to be brave around us, Darling.”

“It's there, but I'm used to it,” you admitted. 

“Then we have to make an effort to have you really feeling it the next time, don't we?” Hongjoong smirked. 

“Ugh, Joongie,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Ignore him, Kitten. You'll come to learn Master Hongjoong is quite lewd.”

“You say that as if you're not.”

“Alright, I stand corrected: he is openly lewd.” He quietly sipped from his tea cup, and said, “But, I want to know more about you, Kitten. What were you before you died?”

You squirmed in your seat. “A CEO of my own company…” you answered softly, not meeting their eyes. Shame instantly cane over you saying the words out loud. 

“But last night you told us that you're basically useless as a slave,” said Hongjoong. “How could you own your own company?”

You didn't want to answer. You couldn't bear saying it out loud. “I sort of…cheated my way there?”

“How?” 

“She fucked her way to the top,” snorted Hongjoong, finishing off his stew. He gave a taunting laugh, “I fucking knew it.”

“Yeah, I did…”

Seonghwa continued staring at you. You felt him scanning over you like they'd done last night. Jongho returned with a silver tray with a cup of milk, a bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit. You forced yourself to focus on the food rather than the demon's attentive stare. You promised yourself you'd keep your previous life private. Whenever a client or a fellow slave asked, you lied each time. Yet, something told you that lying to these three is pointless. You ate some of the oatmeal, tasted the cinnamon flavored oats and dropped a few blueberries into it. 

“You scammed people,” Seonghwa smirked knowingly. You hated the violated feeling he left inside your head. It felt as if someone poked a hole and stuck the screwdriver around. “Didn't you?”

“I did.”

“How?”

“My company sold stocks,” you admitted, stirring your oatmeal to focus on something else. You tried not thinking about anything but the mushy, milky oats turning a tinged blue. “That's it.”

“That's not it, though,” Seonghwa said, his eyes narrowing and grinning, “You made people go broke after you stole their money from them. A man even killed himself after he lost his life savings. Your company left a lot of people way worse than if you'd left them alone.” He leaned forward, “You stole their money because you wanted to live a life of ultimate excess. Sex, money, power, alcohol…drugs.”

You forced down more oatmeal at the word. 

“Do you want to tell my brothers how you died or do you want me to?” 

“I overdosed on coke in a club bathroom.”

“Had a snow day in that stall, huh?” Hongjoong joked.

“It’s not something I’m proud of.”

“You sound like you were proud of it at the time.”

“Of course I was,” you argued. “I was a single woman with no college education, working a high-paying job, sleeping with people I wanted to sleep with, and doing whatever I felt like doing.”

“Some of those people just happened to be married too,” Seonghwa sneered. Hands intertwined, he placed them on the table and said, “It appears our pet was quite naughty in her previous life.”

“Obviously,” San rolled his eyes. “But, she’s a good girl now, which is all that matters to me,” he smiled fondly at you, then chewed his bacon.

“I love the naughty ones,” Hongjoong said, drinking from a wine cup. “I love the high-spirited, fierce ones. They’re fun to break. I wonder how long it took them to break you? A year? Two?”

“I suppose. Time works differently here.”

“It does,” San said, “Besides, why does any of that matter? She’s here now and that should be enough.”

“I’m not going to have a total stranger in my house,” Seonghwa looked over at him. “I like to know what I can.”

“As if you can’t just burrow into her head and find it yourself like you just did,” he pointed out. 

“I prefer she give me the information willingly, rather than me having to find it myself,” Seonghwa said. “It’s more fun watching them squirm as they reveal themselves to me.” He turned back to you, “It’s like peeling back an orange and seeing the veins underneath. Our secrets, no matter how small, stick to us like a second skin. Getting to spend my whole day flaying that skin gives me no greater satisfaction. I like seeing the filth and wickedness these human sinners try hiding. It’s my job to make them confess and accept their fate. Judging from how you ended up being a slave, you already felt guilty for what you’d done.”

“Psh, too late for repentance now,” Hongjoong laughed softly.

“How did you become a slave, Darling?” San said.

“They asked me.”

“Who?”

“The slavers. They come around the circles and ask if anyone wishes to trade their punishment in for a lighter punishment.”

“Did they tell you what this ‘lighter punishment’ was?”

“No. I didn’t know until I had the collar around my neck.”

“They didn’t brand you,” Hongjoong noted. “They usually brand the slaves.”

“They thought it’d damage me,” you shrugged.

You thought back to the slaver who’d clapped chains on you. A hulking demon with dark green skin and beady black eyes came regularly to the circle of lust looking for demon slaves. Usually, they go for the other demons looking to escape their poverty, but occasionally they take humans. He thought you were pretty enough for a human. You’d make him a lot of money, he said. After a few months with him, he sold you off to somebody else. That slaver then put you up for auction after you slashed a patron with a broken bottle. The man who bought you after that enjoyed using the whip, and he liked using it on you. 

“I bet after you started seeing that perhaps enslavement is worse than whatever punishment you served in your circle,” Hongjoong guessed. You saw the delight at the idea in his eyes. “After a few years of being abused and raped by demons night after night slowly broke you. Having your dignity stripped from you inch by inch and piece by piece left you a walking shell, huh?” His eyes glinted with a smile, “I wish I’d been there. It’s an entertaining sight, watching a slave be broken. It’s a shame they’d broken you already,” he pouted in a sigh, “I’d love to have been the one to break you.”

“But the broken ones are so bland,” San said. “They have no personality. They’re always sad and miserable. It makes for a really boring fuck.”

“Extremely boring,” Seonghwa agreed.

You drank some coffee, black and bitter, to keep yourself from speaking. There’d been nights where you enjoyed it. It wasn’t always bad. You found demon cock and pussy better than anything you had before. A few customers might get rough with you, toss you around and beat you to pieces before taking it, but not all of them. As long as you faked resistance with some, the brothel owners did not come down on you. Last night had been the best of them all.

Seonghwa’s laugh broke through your thoughts. “Slut,” he said, amused.

“What?” Hongjoong asked eagerly. “What did you see?”

“They broke you well,” Seonghwa said to you. “You began to like it after a while.”

“You did?” Hongjoong laughed.

“A lot,” he answered for you. “That’s definitely a bonus for us,” he said, finishing his breakfast and wiping his mouth. “That way we can bypass all the tears and fussing. It makes for a really ruined orgasm, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like my sluts weeping when I’m fucking them.” He stood up from his seat and walked over to you. You stayed still as warm hands rested on your shoulders and his lips touched your ear. “Unless it’s because they’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated they can’t take it anymore.” His hands went down your arms and came at level with your breasts, “You were magnificent last night, Kitten. You took our cocks so well and did so much more than what we expected from you. I fell asleep thinking about your mouth wrapped around my dick, sucking me softly and slowly.” He cupped your breasts through your dress, the gentle touch making you gasp. “And your pussy…” he exhaled deeply, “Your sweet pussy really did taste like honey. I wonder who did that? Humans only taste like that if a demon made it that way. I could eat it all day,” he pecked underneath your ear, “And have you ride me right after.” He groped your breasts, creating a tightness inside you. “I can’t wait to have you to myself.”

“Master…” you breathed, gripping the edges of your chair as he pinched your nipples through the dress.

Seonghwa chuckled deeply, giving your neck a kiss, “I regret going into work so early now. How can I be expected to be content with a good breakfast when I have your sensitive sex in front of me? It’s torture itself.” He gave your neck another kiss, then stood up straight. “I’m off, Brothers,” he said, “I’ll see you all tonight.”

They waved him goodbye, leaving you with San and Hongjoong. Clearly, the sight of Seonghwa coaxing a reaction from you propelled Hongjoong to do the same. The red-haired demon came up to you next. Standing beside you, he traced your jawline before turning your chin. You looked up at him, seeing the gleam of arousal in his eyes as he examined you.

“It’s a shame I’m working all day,” he sighed. His thumb traced the bottom lip line, “I’d love to spend the day edging and teasing you until you’re weeping from need.” He crouched beside you, sliding his hand under the arm and into your lap. You jumped in place as he felt beneath your dress. “I imagine this pussy,” he pressed his fingers to your sex, sliding them up and down your slit, “Gets very, very, wet if I try hard enough.” He pushed one finger further into the soft material to feel the wetness growing there. He laughed, “Already getting wet for me, huh? Filthy slut.” He nuzzled your neck as he continued circling your clit, “My dirty slut. My good whore. All mine, whenever I want you. I’m supposed to share you with my brothers, as we’d all agreed,” he smiled into your neck as you shifted around his fingers, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you on their days either. A quick one in the bathroom or in Hwa’s library…maybe in the garden after dark, where it’s only you and me and I’m pumping more of my cum into you. I saw how much you came whenever we finished inside you. You’re going to be so full, Pet. So fucking full you’ll be bursting from that tight hole.”

 “Don’t you have sinners to go torture, Joong?” San appeared on the other side of you. “You know they don’t like it when you’re late. You’re their best Affliction.”

Hongjoong huffed contemptuously, removing his hand from under your dress. “Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. “I’ll be home after dark.”

“As always.”

Hongjoong walked out of the room scowling, but this did not bother San. He gave you a gentle smile when you two were the last ones. He put his hand on your knee, tracing circles with his thumb as he spoke.

“You really were wonderful last night,” he said, looking to where his hand was on your body. “You were so well behaved and made me cum so hard. I’ve never had a whore who made me cum like that. You really are something special.”

“I’m happy you were pleased, Master,” you responded, doing your best not to melt into his touch.

“I was very, very pleased,” he chuckled. “You only did for me what any good servant does for her masters; what any good wife would do for her husband.”

So he meant it when he said you’d roleplay as his wife.

“Come with me,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I want to show you our room.”

You followed San from the dining room, through a hall with checkered floors and two staircases going upwards. The space between doors indicated that the rooms inside must be big. You guessed the masters’ individual rooms by the doors themselves. Seonghwa’s doors had two masked faces on either side of the frame; both gave austere gazes through empty eye sockets, staring straight ahead to the opposite wall. Hongjoong kept succubus decals outside his door, the two slim figures in the same suggestive pose and half-naked. San’s doors had two sigils on either door: a shield with two swords crossing over it. This is where you stopped. 

He opened the door, and led you into a foyer area where you saw a coat rack, key holders, and a mat. Bright yellow walls stretched throughout the main room, with a dark green carpet on the floor. The furniture reminded you of the retro 50’s styles you’d see on television. It came with the old school big televisions, a record player, and matching green couches and an armchair. Paintings on the walls seemed like the kind someone might buy at a thrift store, mass produced with no name. San had not been joking when he said he wanted a housewife.

“This is obviously the living room,” San said, gesturing to the large room. Even the curtains reminded you of the ones from your grandmother’s house, a hideous floral pattern that matched the greenery of the room. “You don’t have to worry about cleaning anything since the maids come here and do that, but I’d like it if you at least pretended you had. You know, mention cleaning something or doing our laundry or whatever comes to you when I come home. I like thinking that you went through the trouble of keeping my house orderly for me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And breakfast and lunch is already covered by Cook,” he said, “All you need to worry about is dinner.”

“I…I don’t know how to cook very well…”

“That’s not a problem. You only need to plan out the dinner meal, and have the kitchen make it for you. Of course, you’ll be serving it yourself. I would like you to at least have a drink prepared for me when I come home. I left you a list of drinks I like by the bar,” he pointed to a small bar in the corner.

“How will I know when you come home?”

“Simple,” he retrieved a laminated paper from the bar and handed it to you, “I have a schedule that you’ll be following.”

You read the schedule to yourself as San went to the bar. “6am, regular morning routine with handlers. 7am, wake Husband up-”

“-Preferably with a blowjob or something. It’s a good start to the day-”

“-7:30am, prepare breakfast-”

“-Cook has a list of foods that I like that you can choose from-”

“-9am, breakfast with Husband-”

“-In our dining room,” he led you into another room, a lovely dining area with a dark wood table and chairs. “It’s only on Sundays that we’d eat with Hongjoong and Seonghwa.”

“-10am, see Husband off to work-”

“-On my days only-”

“-10am to 5pm, clean house and run errands as needed. Prepare self last ten minutes for husband-”

“-No husband likes coming home to a frazzled wife. I like seeing you pretty when I come home-”

“-6pm, dinner with Husband. 7pm, bath and bed routine. 8pm bedtime.”

It was the stereotypical housewife schedule you’d expected. Your own mother followed a similar routine because she didn’t know any better. Every woman in your family married right out of high school, had children, cleaned their house, went to their own jobs if they had one, and came home to cook dinner and take care of their husband. You’d told yourself you’d never follow such a lifestyle. There’d been more to life than catering to a man and popping out babies for him.

“What do you think?” San asked for your opinion. 

“The truth?”

“Preferably.”

“It reminds me of my mother,” you said, keeping the bittersweetness out of your voice. “She had the same routine, except she still worked. All day. Every day, she served my deadbeat dad like he was a king. The bastard never showed an ounce of appreciation. She slaved over stoves, vacuum carpets, and cleaned toilets. She did everything he wanted her to do, and he never gave anything back. All he did was take and take and take.” 

“Touched a nerve, huh?” San teased with a smile. 

“I hated him.”

“Most girls with daddy issues had one that loved them too much or not enough. Which one are you?”

“Stupid bitch! Youre so goddamn worthless! Why do I even keep you and that brat around?!”

“Darling?”

“I'm sorry, Jack! I'm sorry! I'll…I'll remake it, I promise!”

“Darling, you in there?”

“You got detention again? Why am I not surprised? You might as well quit school, kid. The only thing you'll be smart enough to do is lay on your back!”

“Hey, come back to me.”

You snapped back into reality with San's gentle touch. Rough hands sliding over your softer ones soothed the shakiness of your bones. You took notice of his kind eyes, and how they did not seem to delight in your misery. They pitied you. He wrapped a hand behind your neck and another brought you closer to him. His warmth felt comforting now, his spiced scent reminding you of warm cinnamon rolls on a lazy sunday morning. You hated the effects incubus pheromones did to you. They often used them to subdue you; it made you more compliant. But, with San, this did not feel that way.

“Maybe I won't be so strict on my schedule,” he decided, seeing the permanent sadness in your eyes. “My older brothers will already be enough. You don't need me adding to it-”

“-No, no,” you shook your head. “I will follow your schedule as you asked. You're my master. I'm supposed to please you according to your comfort levels, not mine.”

“But I want you to enjoy it too,” he said. “Your comfort here means a lot to me.”

“It does?”

“Yes, of course. You're my pet now,” he lifted your chin so you looked at him, “I want to take care of you.” 

You couldn't trust the word of a demon. They all lie. Yet, you accepted his false promise. 

“Did you have siblings?” He asked, hoping to move onto something else.

“No. It was just the three of us.”

“Lucky. I have dozens of half-siblings. My father is the Prince of Lust, so you can imagine that results in a lot of kids,” he chuckled softly. “Cambion and full blooded demons in my family tree. I don’t even know most of them, since we're all so scattered.” 

“Then why do you live with your brothers? Do you have the same mother?”

“No, we don't. We had the same caretaker, Madame Madeline. She left us when I became of age and didn't have to look after us anymore. The house has been pretty empty since she left.” He looked down at your body, “In such a big palace, there are a lot of empty rooms. Our father told us once he hoped we'd have demon children of our own one day…”

“He must be disappointed.”

“He'd have to be paying attention in the first place. We don't really see our father that often. I personally have only seen him about four or five times in my life.” 

“I wish mine could've been the same way.”

“I do too,” he then said, “If it makes you feel better, he's likely down in the circles while you're up here at the top.”

“We're still in the same place.”

“Oh, Darling,” he sighed, “Maybe one day you'll realize exactly where you are. You're not living in a dirty, gross brothel anymore. You're living in the Black Keep high up on the hill outside the inner circles. You must understand how important that makes you now.”

San brought you into his arms, eyes growing lustful as he felt down your back. That familiar scent from last night came back, relaxing your tense body. “It's a shame I can't breed you,” he said, changing subject once again. “I’d love to see you round and swollen with my kid. They’d be as beautiful and sweet as you, and as strong as me. They could fill up those empty rooms, pattering around and causing chaos in this place. I really wish we could,” He kissed your lips softly, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try, right? You love it when I cum inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed as he kissed you again.

He grinned, “Good to know. Knowing you liked that only made me want to fill you up with more of it in each hole.”

The arousal his brothers started stirred in your stomach as San kissed you again. This time he locked his lips with yours and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You let out an involuntary gasp feeling his tongue snake its way inside and brushing with yours. San groaned softly, sliding his hands down your back to grab your ass. When he slid his tongue away, he gave several kisses which ended with a tug to your lower lip. Your hands rested on his muscled arms, feeling them flex through his crisp white shirt. For a moment, you imagined him without the upturned horns and the black claws that can rip and tear through you. He’d be the hot new guy at your office, eager to start working and making money. You’d be only eager to get into his pants. San pressed you against the dining table, your legs instinctively spread for him.

“Such a good girl,” he said, starting to kiss down your neck, “Ready to go whenever I want.” He stepped back and looked you over. “They put you in such a short dress.”

“Do you not like it?”

“I’m not a big fan of it,” he admitted, “But that doesn’t stop me at all.” He put his hands on the hem of your dress, and lifted it off of you. In nothing but the white lace bra and panty set Wooyoung put you in, you stayed still to let him look at you. “This…” he breathed, reaching up to squeeze one of your tits, “This I certainly don’t mind.”

You bit your lip as you watched him start a trail of kisses over your cleavage. Little by little, San tugged down the bra underneath your breasts until the straps came down your shoulders. Your bare flesh exposed to him, San moaned as he took one nipple in his mouth. You grinded into his bulge, big and steadily hardening, when the small sensitive sparks started bursting. His hot tongue traced the wrinkled skin of your nipples, flicking at the peak at the very end while he squeezed them more. You couldn’t help yourself from reaching down his hard body to the tent forming in his black slacks.

“Mm, yes,” he breathed, giving each nipple a soft bite, “Stroke it. Take it out and stroke it for me, Darling.” 

You unbuckled his belt, whimpering as he continued sucking on your nipples, and pulled him out. Just as big and hard as last night, your mouth watered feeling the hot, hard muscle twitch in your hand. The temperature between you went up once you both started kissing again, moaning into each other’s mouths. You found yourself grinding against nothing, eager to have friction against your aching sex. San saw this and turned you around so you stood in front of him. Lifting one of your legs, he placed his thigh up against you while he held you there.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he said in your ear, “Rub against my leg. I want you to leave a little wet spot there for me. Go ahead and make a mess on my pants. I won’t be mad.”

You leaned into him and started rubbing yourself into the hard thigh. Not an ounce of fat on this man; none at all. San was all muscle, which he flexed as you started stroking him again. You continued in time with your humping, whining like a bitch in heat for him. His cock throbbed in your hand in every squeeze of his tip, and he let out a low groan when you reached down to his balls momentarily.

“Keep doing that,” he said, forcing you to keep your hand on them, “It feels so damn good. I love feeling your pretty hand on my balls…fuck, yes…”

He took hold of your ass to guide you along his thigh. The touch urged you to pleasure him more. His low hums rumbled in his chest as you kissed down his neck. San took a moment to unbutton the first few buttons to give you access to his warm, taupe skin. You rolled his balls in your hand, cupping them how he cupped your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. Your pussy grew wetter the longer you humped his thigh, the juices seeping through your panties and onto his pants.

“Gosh, you’re getting so wet, Darling,” he said in a raspy voice, pinching your nipple as you traveled back up his length. “I love it.”

Gosh, he was big. You loved taking in his length and girth. In the real world, he’d likely split you in half but not here. Not when you’re dead, and your body molded to take him in all and every angle. You wanted it again. You picked up the pace on his thigh, whining and jerking him until his precum dripped from the slit. This amused San, who started teasing your nipple again with his fingers. His teasing had you trembling in his grasp, combined with his hard body underneath you. 

“Cum for me,” he said, capturing your lips with his. “Cum on my thigh. I want you to make a mess for me to flaunt around.”

Your free hand on his shoulder, you rode out your orgasm. It hit you much harder than you’d expected, your muscles seizing tightly and only relaxing when you finished. Breathing hard into his shoulder, your legs became jelly once again. The strong, muscled demon had no problem pulling you onto his lap against the table and turning you over. Pushing your panties aside, San plunged right into your clenching hole all the way to his balls. He kept your knees on either side of him as he started pumping himself inside you. You put one of his hands on your tits, wanting him to play with them again while he fucked you. He didn’t deny you this, and grabbed it exactly how he had before.

Your grunts and moans joined together into the air. Back arching against the hardwood, you lost yourself in San. His cinnamon pheromone filled your lungs, becoming better than any line of cocaine you’d ever snorted. It gave you the energy you needed to keep taking his cock even after an orgasm. You could feel his tip pushing into your g-spot each time, creating a bulge in your lower belly as it’d done last night. San noticed this, staring down where your bodies met and he kept the same depth and pace. You touched right where you felt him the most as if this might pleasure him further, and this aroused him even more.

“Touch yourself for me,” San said in a shaky breath, “Rub that clit for me.”

Fingers pressing to your soaked clit, you rolled them around in circles for him. “Master…” you breathed, “Master, please don’t stop. It feels so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t, Darling,” he breathed. “I won’t. Just keeping rubbing your pussy like that and I'll keep going as long as you want.”

He then lifted you off the table, holding you in his strong arms as he bounced you up and down on it. You didn’t dare question exactly how strong your demon “husband” was, but it had you shaking in his embrace. It might as well be a work out for him with your size. Every deep, hard thrust brought up your volume. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

That’s likely why you didn’t hear Yunho walk in on you. The butler didn’t say anything. He didn’t make his presence known to San. He only stood in the doorway, stock still with hands behind his back. Having him watch so intently, maintain eye contact with him as San grunted in your ear, brought on a new orgasm. One of the things you’d liked about the brothel were the lack of walls. The poorer patrons fucked in the open, main lounge in front of everyone.

Yunho’s gaze turned from stone to enjoyment the longer he watched. He is likely instructed to wait until his masters are done before speaking.

“Yunho is here, isn’t he?” San said in your ear, breathing hard as his orgasm approached.

“Yes.”

“Do you want him to stay and watch or should I send him away?”

You didn’t particularly know Yunho other than his position in the house, but having his round puppy eyes focused on you had you burning.

“I…” what would San want?

“It won’t be his first time.” He pressed his lips to your neck, “He has peep holes all around the house. In the bathrooms, the dressing rooms, the bedrooms…he even has them in the kitchen and the sun room after he learned we fuck each other in those places too. He prefers to watch than play.”

“He…He…I…”

“Yunho,” San put you back on the table, “Come sit here.”

“Yes, Master.”

Yunho took a seat at the table, removing his gloves and placing them on the table. His eyes met yours, and you expected him to touch you, but he didn’t. He looked over your face, then down to your breasts and then where San pounded into you. You heard the faint sound of a buckle and zipper before he slid his hand into his pants. San lifted you further and spread you apart so Yunho had a view of him inside you. Yunho‘s mouth fell open at the sight, and he instantly began pumping himself.

“Isn’t her cunt pretty, Yunho?” San asked in a smirk, head tilting back as you gripped him tightly.

“Very,” he swallowed, his arm moving slowly up and down.

San withdrew for a moment to rub his length along your sex, making sure to gather all the juices and spread them enough for Yunho to see. When he tapped on it, the light smacks jerked your knees and curled your toes. Yunho could also see the strings of fluids keeping San’s length connected to yours. He let out a particularly loud groan seeing your wetness being pooled and played with by his master. You wriggled on the table for San to put his cock back in, but your master did something different. Pulling you by the knees, he made you face Yunho from the other side after bending you over the edge. Yunho leaned back in his chair as you bounced against San’s hips, nearly drooling when San grabbed your arms to expose your bouncing breasts.

“Look how hard he is for you,” San moaned in your ear. “I’ve never seen him get hard so quickly. Then again,” you almost heard him smile, “Yunho has a fetish for humans.”

He instantly started going faster and harder, slowly going over the edge in each thrust. Yunho stayed transfixed on you the entire time. Your mouth hung open once you saw him pull himself from the restraints of his pants. Not as long as his masters, Yunho did have the width that had you wishing he’d join in. You arched your back more so he saw the rest of you. He began stroking faster, and you saw more clear precum sliding down from the head. Thick and red, you nearly drooled seeing it in his big hand.

“Fuck, I wanna cum inside you. I want to fill-fill you up, and get you pregnant. Nothing would make me fucking happier,” San said, lifting your knee to the table, bending you forward further and reaching your g-spot once more. “Bending you over this table while you're carrying one…Having you ride me slow…fuck, that'd feel So damn good, wouldn't it?”

“Yes, yes, Mas-a-ster,” you cried between gritted teeth. 

“Wouldn't you like to see that too, Yunho?”

“Yes…Yes, I would…”

Doesn’t my slave fuck nicely?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you like watching her?”

“Yes, sir,” he croaked through a moan as he gripped his chair tightly. His body contorting to his pleasure, the obscene sounds of his slick cock joined his moans. “She…She…”

“She, what?”

“She’s…so beautiful. She fucked you so well last night, sir,” he confessed, going faster and shutting his eyes. “I’ve never seen humans take a demon cock like that.”

“That’s what I said,” San took your waist and pinned you to the table. “That’s…That’s what I said!”

San released his orgasm right at that moment. Yunho quickly came to his at the same time, thick streams sliding down his underside onto his pants. You shook and clawed at the table feeling San’s cum spray your insides. The distinct heat and the squishing from below had you crying for more. San gave a few more deep pumps, slowly coming down from his orgasm as he twitched inside you. He said nothing as he withdrew from you, placed you on the table facing Yunho, and showed him your pussy. Messy, sloppy, and oozing with San’s demon cum, Yunho’s orgasm seemed to heighten instead of fall back down.

“A demon of greed and excess,” San explained in a breath, “They have a hard time letting go of good things…You might know something about that.”

Yunho eventually finished, slumping into the chair and tilting his head back. Clearly, creampies were one of Yunho’s favorite things, from what you guessed by the amount of cum on his pants and shirt.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Master,” he breathed, coming back to himself. He grabbed a cloth from his jacket and hurriedly cleaned himself. “I…I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine, Yunho,” San assured him. “You’ve served us very well. You deserve nice things from time to time. "YN didn’t mind either,” he said. He looked at his watch, “Ah, I have to go.” He ran his hands through his hair, and took a deep breath. “Good thing I’m commentating the arena today,” he breathed in relief, “Otherwise I don’t think I can fight on wobbly knees.” You heard him zip up his pants again, then bend over to kiss your shoulder. “Get cleaned up, Darling. Seonghwa wouldn’t want you dirty. He hates dirty things…Well, some things can be dirty, I’m sure.”

He pecked your lips, patted Yunho’s shoulder, then walked out of the room. The tension in the room rose, and you immediately closed yourself up. You began pulling your bra back over your breasts, not meeting Yunho’s eyes as he fixed his suit.

“You should, um, wash up and rest,” Yunho said awkwardly, finally standing up from his chair. His eyes went back down your body to your sex, which you’ve covered back up. “I’ll call Yeosang and-”

“-I’d like to wash myself, if that’s okay?”

“Alright then, um, yes. Yes, you can do that. You should also give those over to me,” he nodded to your underwear, “They’re dirty and you should be wearing fresh ones when Seonghwa comes for his lunch break.”

“Planning on keeping them?” you hoped teasing might ease the tension.

“No,” he replied rather defensively. “The underwear, please.” You removed them and handed them over to him. “The bathroom is across the room. If you need assistance, use the bell on the wall and Jongho will come to serve you. If you’ll excuse me, I have duties to, well, um, attend to.

He stiffly walked out of the dining room. The weight of your newest orgasm left you feeling light and fuzzy. When you slid off the table, the stickiness rubbed your inner thighs and your legs buckled slightly through the apartment. You removed your bra, since you saw no reason to keep it, and went into the bathroom. As you sunk into a warm bath, a giddy sensation filled your stomach. The reality of your situation started growing on you, and sinking its teeth into your veins like a venomous snake. You had a whole house of incubi and demon cock to have at all hours of the day. It sounded so much better than pleasuring the patrons of the House of Kisses.

You sank into the water, letting it engulf you, and imagined what Seonghwa had planned for you. 

***

A/N: what exactly has yn gotten herself into?? It's only getting better from here haha

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 14 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Another day in town reveals a deep-seated lack of worth within Arthur that you do your best to distract him from.

Author’s Notes: I’ve decided on a relative timeline for this story—about three years before the events of the game, hence Arthur’s age mentioned in this chapter. More alcohol consumption in this chapter. Chapter fourteen of this one. More notes at the end.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Fourteen: A Good Day’s Mischief

Word count: 5057

Still ain’t told me her name. Considering her drunken state last night, I doubt she remembers any promises well enough to keep them. Still, I was hoping to get it out of her while her judgement remained so poor. Now she’s back to herself—defiant and stubborn as she ever was.

~

You and Arthur had done all you’d set out to do, freshly laundered clothes in hand, horse and mule checked on, and bellies full. You could get used to a life like this. Especially the way the two of you walked side by side, quiet for all that had passed between you the night prior. Simply happy to be together. He may not have wanted you in the same way you wanted him, but after being held by him all through the night, feeling so protected and cared for, you didn’t care. That closeness was unlike anything, something you craved deep in your bones. You prayed you weren’t too obvious about that need, especially as you walked beside him now where you would normally follow along. But he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he kept that mild satisfaction on his face and walked on. It was all you could do not to smile like an idiot at his happiness—at knowing you were the one who put it there.

The two of you trudged up the creaking hotel steps and inside, Arthur nodding at the hotel owner just as he had the day before. It filled you with such a sense of familiarity you could hardly stand it.

Upon reaching the room, you immediately held out your hand for Arthur to give you his shirt.

“Let me sew that up, get this thread back to the hotel worker.”

Something passed over his expression you couldn’t place, but he did as you asked. And you were soon sewing the small separation shut with the same swiftness as before, glad his shirt was also blue so that the thread matched.

You finished and looked up to find him watching your hands.

“You’re good at that,” he said.

You passed the shirt over to him, tucking the needle and thread in your pocket. “I had lots of practice.”

He smiled—a soft, genuine thing compared to his usual smirk. It made him more handsome than any haircut could.

“Let me get this back downstairs,” you told him, patting your pocket. “Be right back.” And, when you headed for the door without a word of protest from him, you turned. “What, no quip about me being careful?” His gaze was on his shirt, his thumb running over the newly threaded mend. But when he caught you staring, he tossed it aside and cleared his throat.

“I thought that was implied.” All haughtiness returned.

You just grinned and left the room, nerves rearing at that same sense of familiarity that came from spending time with him. It was a dangerous thing to be so happy about—something that wouldn’t last.

Items returned, you reentered the bedroom to find Arthur looking out the window and smoking. His coat was once again shed, those broad shoulders on display. You had to keep yourself from staring.

He turned and offered you his cigarette.

“Never again,” you said, holding up your hand in refusal.

He chuckled. “Come on. It weren’t that bad.”

“Tell that to my lungs.”

The light in his eyes as they held on yours was deceiving. Partially because their genuineness reminded you of when he had kissed you, and you were filled with a hope you knew to be false because of it.

“You…wanna go back to the saloon?” he asked, voice careful like he realized what that look did to you.

“Maybe,” you said just as soft. “What else could we do while we’re in town?”

You thought you caught a tinge of red crossing his face before he turned back to the window, looking down to the street below. “There’s plenty of mischief for an outlaw to get into around these parts.”

Surprised, you pondered what that could possibly entail. “An outlaw, huh?”

He just lifted the cigarette to his lips again, not responding.

“As eager as I may be to see a bit of this world, I believe that’s where my sense of adventure ends.”

He looked at you then, a smirk lighting his eyes. “Please, do enlighten me on what you think I’m suggesting.”

“I, uh…” Truth be told, you had no idea. You’d thought he meant mischief beyond the arms of the law. For the both of you. “I guess I don’t know.”

He was really smiling then.

“What?”

“It’s a wonder we get along,” he said on a chuckle, smoke puffing out as he did.

“Do we?”

“Good point.” He leaned back against the window frame, one hand landing on his gun belt. Something about that relaxed grace of his made you want things you didn’t know how to want. He went on. “It’s just strange. Me, an outlaw, and you, skittish as a wild horse, not even knowing what that word means.”

“I know what it means.”

“Do you?”

“Outside of the law. Getting by on…thievery at best.”

“And at worst?”

Even though a small smile remained on his face, you could tell he cared about your answer. It was a loaded gun, that question. This circling conversation the pair of you never could seem to rid yourselves of.

He held your stare, and you held it right back. “That violence you showed me when those two men tried raiding our camp. What it could have turned into.”

“And what’s that?”

He wanted you to say it. Like he wanted you to fully understand—to hate him for it.

You stared at him a long time. Then, “I’m not scared of you, Arthur.” He made to laugh that off, so you pushed. “You’ve been awfully good to me for someone who wants to think himself so evil.”

That finally made him crack. He looked to his boots and let out the last of his laugh, smoke trailing in its wake. “Evil ain’t the right word.”

“What then?” You didn’t know you wanted to know him so badly until that very moment.

He turned back to the window and stood there a long time. It was only when you thought he wouldn’t answer that you heard his voice, deep yet small.

“Undeserving.”

The word tore through you. It was said with such sadness, such honesty, that you felt your chest cave knowing he wore that burden so heavily. Thinking himself truly beyond saving.

You could have consoled him in so many ways—namely by saying a worthless person wouldn’t worry themselves over whether they deserved good things. But you found yourself unable to get it out, unable to say a word. You just watched him in front of that window, smoke billowing up like old wounds finally brought forth—veiled and, consequently, impossible to staunch. It killed you to see that in him. It had you rethinking everything, every moment spent with him. You had been taking and taking and taking, never once thinking of his needs. So you vowed, right then and there, to begin.

“Let’s go, get out of here for a while.”

“Where?” he asked without facing you.

“Anywhere.”

He finished his cigarette, the stub short and burning in the noonday light.

“On one condition,” you amended.

He turned then, face clouded with something you couldn’t decipher.

“That you enjoy yourself.” He made to answer, but you interrupted. “And don’t lie and say you’ve been doing that already because you haven’t. Not while you’ve been so busy watching my back every second.”

He didn’t deny it.

“When’s the last time you quit worrying about everyone else? Did something for yourself?”

He let out a flat laugh. “Been a while.”

“Exactly. So come on and show me a good time, and stop babying me.”

“That ain’t-”

“Save it.” You opened the door and motioned for him to go ahead of you as dramatically as you could.

He rolled his eyes and made a big show of being annoyed, but you did know that much about him—all that gruffness was only that: show. So he gave in like you knew he would and was out the door in seconds.

You let Arthur lead the way this time, vowing to go where he went, to keep out of trouble. He must have really taken your word for it, for he soon walked straight into a saloon you hadn’t noticed before that was behind the hotel. It was…far from the likes of the Red Horse. Very far. But you were glad to see that Arthur wasn’t watching you for once, catering to you. Instead, he stepped up to the small, dingy bar and ordered a drink with a certain lightness in his step. He ordered you one too, but after seeing the state of the place, you didn’t feel like drinking from the dingy glasses he was handed. You gave him yours, and he only shrugged and started drinking both, propping himself against the bar top.

You took the time to note your surroundings—the piano player who kept missing notes not because of a lack of talent but because of a lack of keys. The few seedy-looking men who were already looking at you. You were immensely glad you hadn’t changed back into your own clothes, as their eyes hardly lingered on you any longer than they did Arthur. But the pair of you were strangers here, and with the way most of them huddled together in watchful silence, you could tell they frequented the place enough to call it their own. You and Arthur couldn’t say the same. And you felt the weight of their stares as a result of that long after turning away.

Arthur didn’t seem to mind the saloon’s company. In fact, if it weren’t for your being with him, you would be willing to bet he fit in around places like this. He seemed comfortable, less watchful, less shifty. It took you all of a heartbeat to decipher why, and the reason behind it both alarmed and saddened you—he was among like-minded people here. All shabby clothes and unkempt hair, guns on most patrons’ hips. You were willing to bet Arthur wasn’t the only man in the room who frequently found himself on the opposite side of the law. But more than that, it seemed he hadn’t enjoyed the company of the Red Horse as much because he felt he would never belong with those people. The more you looked around, the more you realized how abysmal Arthur’s self-worth was. He was worth ten of every man here. You didn’t even have to know them to know it—you could see it in their beady eyes. None of them would have helped you off that cliff bottom, but Arthur had. And you let him go on enjoying himself because of it, knowing any attempt to convince him of that worth would be futile. It would just anger him, and that was the opposite of the point of coming here. You instead thought of ways to help him keep his mind off things and grinned when an idea hit you.

“So.”

He turned to you. “Aww, don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That one. Pure mischief if I ever seen it.”

“Isn’t that the point?” you asked, grin never fading. “You said it yourself. Plenty of mischief to get up to around here.”

He swigged down the rest of his drink and set it on the bar top, already waving at the bartender for another. “What did you have in mind?”

“You remember that little question game we played? With the gin?”

“Sure,” he said, not quite meeting your eye. Of course he did. It was hard to forget when the end result had been that kiss.

“I’ve got questions.”

“Here we go,” he muttered.

“I wasn’t properly…prepared last time. It was unfair from the start.”

“I let you ask me just as many questions as I asked you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but the caliber of questions was, well, tipped in your favor.”

“That so?” he asked, turning to you. The smug look on his face had you trying your best not to think of where the last game had led, because it was already getting difficult to resist wanting that again.

“They were,” you said simply.

“Well, fire away then.” He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “You already know enough to get me hanged. How much worse could you throw at me?”

You didn’t know enough to get the man hanged, for Christ’s sake, but you banished the thought before your confidence could be shaken. Instead, you started simple—with exactly the same thing he had.

“What’s something you never told anyone? Your deepest, darkest secret?”

“Deepest and darkest, huh?” he said, tilting his head back in thought and amusement.

You gave him time to think it over, knowing better than to tease him when you had the upper hand. He would just quit, and where would the fun be in that?

Whether from liquid courage or from genuinely wanting to enjoy himself, he relented.

“I don’t like the cold.”

“What? That’s not an answer,” you chided.

“It’s plenty answer,” he said with a grin, knowing it was anything but.

You were a breath away from arguing when you caught the way he was looking at you, just waiting for you to do exactly that. So you clamped your mouth shut and rerouted. “I meant something more along the lines of downright humiliating like my answer was, but…I’ll allow it.”

“You didn’t say humiliating. You said something no one else knows about me. Living with that gang of misfits every second of every day, you learn everything there is to know about each other.”

“That’s…more like it,” you admitted. Then, “Well, why the cold then? I like it.”

“Oh, and I’m not allowed to have an opinion?” he teased.

You glared. He just tilted his head back and laughed, and it was better than any answer he could have given you.

“Fine,” he said on a sigh. “It’s because it’s miserable. Heat can be bearable. It’s never painful, but the cold…”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said, feigning understanding. Then, because he deserved some hassling in return, “It’s hard on the weak-willed.”

He scoffed and bumped his shoulder into yours in retaliation, and all you could do was laugh into your hand, trying to hide the feminine sound from the surrounding crowd.

“My turn,” he said. “And you got two, so I get two, and don’t even try to wiggle out of that.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“You ever daydream about kissing the postman?”

You could feel your face burn at that one, trying to answer fast enough to cover your embarrassment. “What kind of question is that? Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“I ain’t never brought it up since you did,” he countered.

Maybe not, but he always aimed these questions right where you were most guarded. Or most clueless, more like.

You groaned your frustration and were about to blurt denial before you realized that would be a lie—you’d never kissed anyone before Arthur, and you couldn’t deny that childish curiosity that had you imagining a hundred different scenarios with that stupid postman at the ripe age of fourteen. Maybe even thirteen.

Your hesitation was your biggest mistake. Arthur’s shit-eating grin had already taken hold. “Knew it.”

“There’s nothing to know,” you hissed, trying to keep from a yell. Lucky there was the sound of a piano currently filling the saloon, or this whole conversation would be on display for the patrons.

“Can’t lie,” he teased. “Those are the rules.”

“I haven’t even said-”

“Next question,” he interrupted. “Since you want to play dirty.”

“I wasn’t playing-”

“Did you imagine him your age in said daydreams, or were you kissing a forty-year-old man?”

“You’re terrible,” you said. “Absolutely awful.”

“So…that a yes?” he asked over a wicked grin.

“No.” He gave you a knowing look, and you immediately shut it down. “No. He was…like he always looked. Not forty, for Christ’s sake.”

“Thirty-nine?”

You swatted him. He laughed. “What then?”

“I don’t know,” you said, exasperated. “How old are you? He looked about like you do.”

You realized your mistake the moment the words left your mouth. Especially when Arthur’s expression turned from amusement to smugness.

“Like me, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” His grin had turned feral.

“He looked your age.”

“Sure.” He dropped it, but you knew by the look on his face the conversation was far from over. Meanwhile, it was likely your face would soon burn away with how red you knew it to be.

“I’m thirty-three,” he said, interrupting your embarrassment.

“He was around that.”

He nodded. Then, “Well, as fine a question as asking my age is, it’s my turn again.”

“Excuse me?” You said it loud enough for Arthur to shush you.

“Pipe down with all that. Lest you want these fine folks knowing you’re a lady.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?”

“Lady. That’s the second time.”

“That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

“Woman,” you corrected.

“Woman. Lady. Same thing.”

You leaned over the bar, facing away from him. He was too amused with you to let it lie. “What, you got a problem with it?”

“No. It’s…not terrible. Just don’t expect me to go calling you gentleman.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, nameless.” You whipped around at the nickname, and he winked at you before lifting his glass to his lips. Goddamn him for it. This was the Arthur you couldn’t stand being around since that kiss. The one who had led to that kiss. And all you wanted was for it to happen again.

You tore your eyes away from him and tried to think of a question that would justify why you were suddenly wracked with nerves and dead silent because of it.

“How ‘bout this,” he said, his smile so wide you knew it would be an awful question. “Have you ever…” His voice trailed when his eyes met the door. Yours followed, and you immediately knew why his focus had become so sharp—in walked the man from the night prior, the one who had lost so much money playing poker. Bowler hat, greasy manner, and all.

“And, like his father, he’ll come to regret that,” he was saying to one of the men he was with the night before. Well, slurring would be more accurate. His red-tinged face and bloodshot eyes gave him away for a drunk if his speech didn’t.

“Mr. Lawrence,” the bartender called over to him. “Nice to see you in.”

“Ah, Mr. Begley,” the man—Lawrence—responded. He leaned over to his friend, either not bothering to lower his voice or unaware of its loudness as he said, “Can’t very well say it’s a pleasure in this dump, can I?”

His friend chuckled in response, but all you could do was glare. Your distaste must have been obvious enough for Arthur to lean into you and whisper, “Eyes forward, there.”

You did as he asked, not needing to draw attention to yourself now.

You were grateful when the man and his friend settled on the opposite side of Arthur, though not even a minute passed before he was drawing Arthur’s attention.

“A new face, have we? Haven’t seen you here before.”

Arthur kept his eyes forward as he said, “Never been here before.”

“A newcomer then. Staying or passing through?”

“Just passing through.”

“You and your…ah…”

Lawrence leaned past Arthur to look at you.

“My friend,” Arthur answered, though it only resulted in a raised eyebrow from the man. It was obvious enough to anyone looking closely you were a woman. But if he realized, he didn’t say anything.

“Yes. Well, the name’s George Lawrence. Brother to the notorious James Lawrence.” The description dripped with disdain for the latter, though you had no clue who he was referring to.

“Who?” Arthur asked, and you had to rein in a smile at the way he blatantly snubbed the man, offering up no name of his own.

This really got the man’s attention, and his friend’s too. “You don’t know? Oh dear, what filthy little rock have you been living under?” When Arthur still didn’t take the bait, Lawrence kept on. “The shootist? Recently appointed town marshal?”

“Here?”

The man scoffed a laugh. “Yes, here.”

“Well, if he’s as friendly as you, maybe I’ll go pay him a visit,” Arthur jeered.

Lawrence’s eyes narrowed with disgust, his oily nose crinkling up with it. He looked Arthur up and down. “And you are?”

“Arthur Callahan.” You were surprised Arthur even offered that much, though he still wouldn’t meet the man’s eye, too busy leaning over the bar top and trying to ignore him.

“And you?”

Lawrence’s eyes had fallen on you, and you blurted the first name that came to you to keep Arthur held back as he turned toward the man in offense. “Frances Smith.”

Lawrence’s eyes narrowed as Arthur whipped around, surprise lining his gaze—he didn’t realize the name was fake. You just shook your head at him.

“Well. I hope the two of you enjoy yourselves in our humble town. Though I do suggest sticking to the back streets. That’s where the other…what do you call it? Cowmen tend to reside.”

Never in your life had you heard that word said with such disdain, and it drew Arthur’s attention like a gunshot. “Excuse me?” he grimaced, voice dangerously low.

“I don’t believe I stuttered.”

That did it. Arthur stood to his full height, towering over the smaller man, and swept into his space so quickly that Lawrence stumbled back onto his friend’s foot.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to,” Arthur threatened, “but I ain’t like these other townies, scared of some marshal brother of yours. So I’d suggest you get lost before you find yourself with a few less teeth.”

The whole saloon had stopped to stare—even the piano player. It was dead silent as Lawrence answered with a slight slur in his voice, “I would think twice about the crowd you find yourself in before you threaten a fight.”

Arthur looked around as you did, finding many glaring patrons. But they weren’t glaring at the two of you. Rather, it seemed they had caught just enough of the conversation for Lawrence to offend the whole lot of them too. Arthur must have noticed this, as he looked back to Lawrence and, without hesitation, yanked him forward and head butted him right in the nose. A crack rent the air, Lawrence went crumpling to the floor, and his friend could only shout his shock and try to help him back to his feet, both too drunk to do much of anything else.

A few of the patrons laughed, one exclaiming, “That’ll show him, the sorry bastard.”

Lawrence finally reached his feet with a bloodied nose, straightening his jacket with whatever dignity he had left. And, seeing no one would come to his aid, he just glared at Arthur and cursed under his breath as he stepped past him.

“Come on, Higgins. I think it best my dear brother hears about this.”

With that, he left. You and Arthur watched him until the doors snapped shut behind him and his friend.

“As satisfying as that was,” the bartender said, drawing your attention. “I would be careful with that one.”

Arthur pushed his glass back toward the man for him to refill it, tossing another coin down. “Slimy bastard like that deserves worse.”

“Perhaps.” The bartender waited until the room resumed its careful conversation, most men eyeing Arthur now. The rickety piano started back up when the bartender leaned in close over the bar. “He wasn’t exaggerating about his brother. They say he’s the quickest draw anyone’s laid eyes on in years. And, newly appointed town marshal to boot. You would do well to remain in his good graces.”

“If he’s anything like his sorry excuse for a sibling, I don’t care to be,” Arthur muttered.

“He’s not. He’s likable enough. You get on his bad side, and you’ll find the whole town against you.”

Arthur noted this but didn’t answer, so you did. “How on earth did a man like that wind up with a brother like George?”

The bartender really looked at you then, likely just now realizing your gender. But you appreciated his kindness as he only tipped his hat to you and explained. “They say George has lived in his brother’s shadow too long. Not as talented, not as favorable. And his nasty gambling and drinking habits make for a sour man indeed. Too much money and too little entertainment. I would steer clear of both men.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Arthur said, cutting you off before you could respond. You looked to find him glaring at you, likely because you had drawn so much attention to yourself twice now.

The bartender took the hint and his leave, letting you and Arthur be.

“We need to get going, Frances.”

You couldn’t help your smile. “Is that what you’re upset about? You did just crack a man’s nose with your skull, you know.”

He didn’t acknowledge that. “All this time, you wouldn’t tell me your name, and you dole it out to the first bastard to walk through that door and ask it?”

“Maybe he was nicer about it than you were.”

“He wasn’t.” Arthur’s scowl tickled you—like a pouting child. You pointed to his drink.

“Finish that, and let’s go.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Unless you want the big bad marshal to come knocking.”

He scoffed and threw his drink back, slamming it on the bar top. “Thanks,” he offered the bartender, tossing him another coin for his discretion and his advice before ushering you out. You could only smile at how disgruntled Arthur remained, letting him lead you on.

~

Frances. Goddamn Frances.

Arthur lead you back to the hotel, too spooked to go anywhere else despite the early afternoon hour. He hadn’t had his head on straight in that saloon—shouldn’t have taken you there in the first place. But he had to admit, you had a way of making him forget his logic. It had even been fun for a while. Until it wasn’t. Now he had the attention of one of the most powerful men in town which never lead to anything good. He was suddenly considering that putting an end to this little stay wasn’t such a bad idea. It had been nice while it lasted, even if it had only lasted two days.

After locking you both inside the hotel room, Arthur dug through his satchel for a cigarette, finding he only had one left. He would need to get to a store soon. Maybe in the next town.

“So,” you said, that playful lilt still in your voice despite what had gone down back in that saloon. “Mr. Callahan, was it?”

He shook his head as he lit a match. “Fake name.” You laughed lowly, and it drew his attention. As did the way you settled on the bed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He let you drop it, still too jittery to pick a fight with you.

“I didn’t know any better, and I’d say you’re jealous.”

He didn’t take the bait. “Am I?”

“You must be if that’s how you react to me giving my name out.”

He eyed you, taking a long drag. “I ain’t jealous.”

“No?”

“No.” Then, because he couldn’t resist, “It just don’t make much sense. You, protecting your precious name from me all this time only to-” He caught your eye and the grin underneath them. And simultaneously realized himself a fool. “That ain’t your name, is it?”

You smiled wide, and he scoffed.

You laughed loudly, the sound so pure it made his chest tighten. “No, Mr. Callahan, it’s not.”

“Well, you don’t get to know my name, then. How’s that?”

You shrugged. “Fine. Arthur’s all I need.”

“You’re something else,” he said, ears burning for the way you kept outsmarting him.

With this, you just smiled and shed your hat, lying back on the bed. He wanted to join you on it. Knew he wasn’t strong enough not to. But if he was going to keep any gentlemanly manner about him, he couldn’t do it now. He couldn’t lay beside you while that alcohol ran through his blood so thick and that laugh of yours made him want to take your mouth to his. If he did, the night would end in a way he was torn between wanting desperately and knowing he would regret the moment it happened. There would be no happy ending for you and him. Just as there hadn’t been with Mary. Just as there hadn’t been with Eliza and the boy…

He couldn’t dwell on that now. Not while he still had you—someone kind enough to brave the world for him, as you had tonight in that shit hole of a saloon. It meant more to him than he could say. You were right that he never took time for himself. Mainly because when he did, it always ended badly, and there wasn’t anyone with him now with enough knowhow to get him out of a tight like that. In fact, the thought of you just trying put a smile on his face. Smart or no, you were no outlaw. He was willing to bet your experience with the law ran nigh on none, good or bad. But his experience wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, so he went back to looking out the window and trying to empty his head with that lone cigarette, passing the time in hopes you would fall asleep and his blood would cool. After a while, both came like a caring respite, and he crawled into that bed a second time with you, repeating to himself that it was only for comfort. And only for a little while longer.

_________

End Notes: My apologies if your name happens to be Frances Smith 😂 just pretend she said some other name that isn’t yours if so!

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[oconswrld]

That smile on your face, makes it easy to trust you.

Girl with the smile. - Sergio Pérez x Reader.

summary: Checo finally gets to talk to the girl he's been smiling at every day.

The sun hit her face so beautifully, like an ancient greek goddess. There are so many words Checo could use to explain her beauty, yet none ever captured the breaths she takes away. Every drill, every motor sound blurs and the world slows when she smiles right back at him.

It's been a race season filled with smiles from her. Teeth showing, or even just a grin that he couldn't get enough of. The amount of times he has caught her staring can't be counted, but it also works vice-versa.

Y/n is her name, she's Adrian's new protégé. They never crossed paths enough to talk, maybe the fact they were both blushing even at the sound of each other's name helped with the avoiding too.

The moment Sergio saw her relaxing outside the garage on her phone, he just knew it was time to finally talk to her. Those bambi eyes she always had moved up to look at him. And that damn smile came out again. Y/n's pink lips pulling and her perfectly asymmetrical teeth showing.

" Hi! " She started the conversation with a light giggle at his presence. Locking and setting her phone down, leaning forward to show him how much she was interested in talking to him.

His legs shook, being at her full mercy. She could simply walk away from him and he'd still watch her walk away with a love-sick look. A permanent blush stuck on Sergio's face at her attention to details.

" Hey. " Showing a tight lipped smile to her.

" I'm Y/n! How are you Checo? " The way she talked so gently yet so confident in her own knowledge made him want to listen to her for eternity. Her accent is heavy on the way she says his nickname. Heavenly and simply beautiful.

" I'm good. It's finally the moment for us to talk. " Light pours over his back, highlighting the way his eyebrows move closer while pronouncing words, as if to not trip over himself. Y/n never saw Sergio do that with anyone else. It made her chuckle.

Her hand finds her drink, taking a quick sip only to resume her talking.

" Been looking for you every day and night I'm here. " Laughing at her own middle school crush.

" I've been wanting to hear your accent slip through when you're talking to me, not to those interviewers. " He stated, remembering the times he saw her embarrassed over not knowing the english words for something.

" If you want it, i will grant it to you, Sergio. "

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 568,239 others

yourusername: Those innocent eyes.

tagged: schecoperez

View all 893 comments

schecoperez: That smile on your face.

yourusername: taught u so well abt Miguel babyy🥹

landonorris: Y/n really taught Checo about Girl with the tattoo before she did anything else🤨

maxverstappen1: I literally don't wanna see you look at each other with those lingering stares anymore..

yourusername: stfu lil bro. im chewing on your set of tires the next pit stop😤

Viki's Radio: I love my man smm!!! omfg i love checo sm its odd at this point🙏🏻 need more fanfics 4 himm.

[sanaxo-o]

Drowning (Kim Sunwoo)

Warnings/Genre: idol!Sunwoo, tiny fluff in the flashback, mostly angst, Sunwoo reminiscing and thinking back to his past, mention of beer in the very beginning, it’s totally mostly just me describing, not at all proofread because I could not take another look at this so plz let me know if anything is wrong:(

Word count: 1,149

Sana: guys, I promise I am working on my Chanhee birthday fic it is just gonna be very late (are we surprised?) but here’s a Sunwoo fic (more like a Drabble) inspired by Woodz Drowning (requested by my one and only @from-izzy ) I hope you like this even tho it’s not the best :( I tried 😭.

Tagging: @a-dream-bookmark @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @mosviqu @kimsohn

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Sitting in the lonely room with a glass of beer in his hand, the young man continued to stare at his phone. The videos continued to play on his phone as they never seemed to come to an end.

Well, of course they were endless! The amount of memories you both shared with each other were countless. Most of them were recorded by his dear friend, Eric while you both were too busy with each other.

At that time, Sunwoo found it annoying and teased Eric for always recording little things, but never did he ever think that he would be the one looking back at them with such desperation. Desperation to have you in his arms again.

He did think that he would look at these videos again but at the very least you were there beside him, huddled up in a fluffy blanket while your head was placed on his chest, his hands combing through your strands of hair while you both watched the videos with smiles lacing your faces.

He never thought he’d be in this kind of situation. You both were together for what felt like years, you were there for him since almost the beginning of his career and stayed by his side when he was going through the hardships.

He never expected to drift away from you like this, he enjoyed the attention he was getting as the member of The Boyz and as Sunwoo but never did he ever think that it would cost your relationship like this.

The times he was on the stage, performing his heart out he was content from inside because he knew that you were there, watching him perform on stage (and that was also the very reason he used to flirt whenever the camera panned to him) but now…now there’s no certainty that you’re watching him perform.

You broke up after all. It all felt so suffocating, it felt as if the room was closing on him, he felt the life leaving his body little by little but he had no strength or energy to get back up on his feet again and stop himself from drowning.

Looking out the window a small laugh leaves his mouth when he sees the raindrops softly hitting his window stills.

He felt crazy for feeling this way for you, the kind words, the words of comfort, were they all just empty words which you used to give him comfort for that moment and then use the same words as memories to stab him in the back like that?

Just a few months ago you both were completely fine! It’s not even like there was some kind of misunderstanding between you both for you to drift apart like this so why? Just why? Where did he go wrong for you to break up with him so abruptly? Was it his behaviour? Or something else?

-x-

Entering the turf you scrunch up your face when you see Sunwoo running around with his members, kicking the football with his legs to make sure his team wins.

You slowly notice Kevin sitting at the corner with a few bottles of water by his side, seeing that sight itself made a laugh escape your throat but what was more surprising was seeing Chanhee playing with them which was a rare (which almost never happens) sight.

Placing your purse on the ground you sit beside Kevin as you focus all your attention on Sunwoo. You always knew how much Sunwoo loved playing football, it was something he adored and you adored him for the passion he had for that sport.

He never let his skills go to waste despite becoming an idol, in fact he kept on improving his football skills and showed them off to you.

“Y/N!” You immediately stand up from your place when Sunwoo starts running towards you, his body all sweaty with the shirt sticking to his chest closely (you would dare not to agree with him that he looked hot that way, that was a way to stop himself from boasting himself and to also tease you. He already had way to much dirt on you)

“Don’t you dare come close to me Kim Sunwoo!” You yell as you immediately run away from there and hide your body behind hyunjae (who was busy minding his own business but was disturbed by the two of you)

“Why are you hiding behind that guy? All I want is a kiss from my girlfriend, is that too much to ask for?” Sunwoo says with a small pout as he continues to take small steps towards you

“Don’t drag me into this.” Hyunjae states simply as he frees himself from your grasp and leaves the area (but before that he made sure to hand his bottle of water to you)

“Don't you dare come close, or I will pour this water on you.” You threaten Sunwoo as you open the bottle of water and throw the cap somewhere (by somewhere it meant that the cap hit Sangyeon on the head)

Even after the countless threats from your side, Sunwoo did not back out and continued to walk towards you with his arms open “I am serious! Stay away.” You whine as you try to run away again only to get pulled back into his arms.

Screaming, you immediately pour the water on him while he continues to pepper your face with kisses.

-x-

Another tear slides down his face when he remembers the time you both would spend in the turf after the members had left.

His own sweaty body, with yours now coated in his sweat and kisses as you both laid on the grass while staring up at the sky.

Even when there were no stars you both would stay back and admire the night sky, the deep conversations you shared with him at that time along with the hearty laughter that would make your cheeks hurt.

You loved him so much, the amount of times you fought for him with the country so that you both don’t break up but in the end you were the one who left him first.

Looking down at his phone, with a quick sigh he opened your contact name.

He wanted to say so much to you, but one question was prominent, would you come back to save me if I was drowning? But in the end he did not have enough courage to ask you that.

Sunwoo: why? Why did you take my life away from me like that and suffocate me to the point that it even hurts to breathe. Sent 12:37 AM

Sending that text, he stood up and left the room while ignoring the constant buzz of his phone. He knew it was from you but he did not have it in him to talk to you again.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

[coffeeandbatboys]

This is Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Congrats on your 300 followers!!! Thanks for the tag! <3

I'd like to request Wolffe and the song "Kiss An Angel Good Morning" by Charley Pride.

I was just listening to it the other day, and I always really enjoy the "Kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home" part. <3 (It actually gives me chills.)

Thanks again!

Thank you!!! It gives me chills too! I was raised on classic country so Charley is a staple for me 😅

I acknowledge that the song is happy but does that stop the angsties? no.

Warnings: angsty, clingy Wolffe with a dash of hot sauce. Mention of the reader dying but its just a nightmare.

Kiss an Angel Good Morning (Wolffe x Reader)

He really doesn't want to leave you. But the 104th's shore leave is up and there's nothing he can do about it. You watch as he straps on his kit, checking the clips at least twice to stall for time.

You don't want him to go either. The two of you have had less and less time together as the war goes on.

His gaze lands on you. Mismatched, but still one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

"Kark, cyare." He mutters, kneeling next to the bed to touch your foreheads together. You shush him and press your lips to his. A groan resonates from his chest and his shoulders slump. Now he really doesn't want to go.

You gently push him by the chestplate. "Go, before the General gets suspicious and starts asking around." you giggle.

His lips twitch in a humorless smile for a brief second. "I love you."

You return the grin, albeit much happier than his. "I love you too. Come back safely."

You give him a couple more kisses 'for good luck' and watch as he bolts out the door.

Weeks pass before your apartment door is opened by his key. Happiness wells up inside you as you stir the pot on the stove and peek towards the entrance.

But the sight only makes you frown. He's haphazardly stacking his kit next to the door. He's never treated his armor like that, so you know that something must be wrong.

"Wolffe?" You ask, keeping your voice calm.

He says nothing, only looking at you and striding over to take you in his arms.

With the way he's holding you, something must have scared him. You reach behind you to turn the stove off and return the hug.

"What's wrong?" You ask, pressing a little so that you'll figure out what to do with him.

He shakes his head against your shoulder.

"Force osik and nightmares. I just want to feel you."

You nod, even though he probably doesn't see it and gently guide the two of you to the couch in the living area.

He presses his lips to yours. The kiss starts out slow, and as it goes on it deepens. It's desperate, but you lean into his hold. You won't deny him your affection on any day.

His tongue runs lightly over the edge of your bottom lip before his kisses trail down your jaw, moving to your neck where he gives the gentlest of nips. Your fingers curl into his hair as his kisses find their way to the collar of your shirt. You can't help but blush and giggle as he grabs the soft material with his teeth and pulls it aside to make room for more kisses.

His hand wanders beneath the hem of your shirt and caresses your torso.

"Wolffe," You murmur, bringing a hand to his cheek. "You have to tell me what happened."

His eyes squeeze shut.

"We came in contact with a sith artifact." He groans. "Gave us all our worst nightmares for a week."

You quirk a brow, knowing where this is going. "And?"

He sighs against your chest. "Mine was losing you. Kriff, Mesh'la. I watched you die every night after that."

Your hand cards through his dark curls again. "I'm right here, Wolffe."

He resumes his trail of kisses, nudging the crook of your neck with his nose. His hand slips further beneath your shirt, asking permission to go further.

You kiss his forehead in response as you let him feel you and make sure he knows you’re alive.

[thiscatiscreepy]

[VD: a crudely drawn picture of a stick figure lying in bed at night, with bags under their eyes. In their thought bubble is a clip from the movie Spirited. The clip is the song "Bringing Back Christmas". End VD]

[destielyurii]

It’s my Stargate and I’ll make it pink if I want to

[cerise-on-top]

Hank with an Eldritch Horror Reader

Here's another thing I wrote two years back! It was an interesting concept which I really liked, so I actually really enjoyed writing this request!

Hank J Wimbleton was a grunt of many things, but not one to be scared unless he had a good reason to be. There were many things in this world he did not understand, you were one of them. Upon meeting you, his first instinct would have been to either fight or run away - who could blame him, it was all he knew. No matter how many times you reassured him that the very last thing you wanted to do was to harm him, he’d draw his weapon, uncertain of whether or not he should believe your words.

Once you show no resistance towards him whatsoever and simply restrain him using your powers or other methods, that’s when, thrashing around as much as he could, he would start listening. You may or may not have seen a grunt up close, but this was your chance to finally examine one. As you scrutinise him from every possible angle Hank realises that you were simply curious about his being and finally lowers weapon.

Your voice would likely hurt his head and freeze the blood in his veins, so you might have to resort to telepathy or speak through a marionette, if you can find one. Though, once Hank’s interest in you has been piqued, he’d be more than happy to find you one. A lot of people in Nevada seem to be redundant in the first place. Regarding telepathy: You will be able to have a two-way conversation with Hank like that, but, for the most part, he doesn’t think in words. Still, he can do so, if needed.

If you’re on the rather small side, he will make an effort to pick you up, or hold you, and bring you back to base. Depending on whether you can float or not, this might be rather difficult, but he’ll try. If you’re large, however, then he will simply “tell” you to follow him. As an eldritch being you could likely either change your form or scare away anyone in your path in the first place, so he doesn’t particularly worry about anyone being stupid enough to attack you.

Spend time with him, he’ll get used to you more and more and, eventually, grow a bond with you. Proud, he’ll show you to Doc so he can figure out what you are, but do not be fooled. Hank wants to know what you are to some degree too. Once comfortable with you and certain you won’t harm him, he’ll start observing you, touching you to some degree. See how you react, how you feel, how you are.

Despite your conversations being, for the most part, one-sided, Hank will ask you directly what you are and if you’re some form of eldritch deity. Since you’re an amicable creature he can’t exactly wrap his head around, it’s worth a try.

Although he would like to do so to some degree, he won’t take you with him on missions. It’s his way of saying “I care a great deal about you, I don’t want you to die or worse even if you are capable of defending yourself.” If you really insist on aiding him, he will let you, begrudgingly. But beware that he will have your back. In fact, having you around will give him a greater reason to fight and improve his overall performance. Though, it will also be a major stress factor to him if something were to happen to you, so choose wisely.

[icewindandboringhorror]

More misc. daily life pictures and such

[justskyla-art]

so I've gotten back into stardew valley hell (I literally have over 420 hours plugged into this game across all the saves I've played (3)) and..

yeah... i made a farmer oc when me and my friends were obsessed with co-op... there is no saving me...

...and i also realized how much i liked elliott.. and you know how things go...

yeah.... i'm not normal about them...

[front-facing-pokemon]

[achairwithapandaonit]

by any chance does anyone have any demon slayer fic recs where nezuko is actually more of a proper character and gets development and is allowed to grow? cause honestly the further i've gotten in this manga the more disappointed in it i've been with the lack of meaningful development, especially in nezuko

[arsonist-chicken]

Do you ever like.. get a sudden surge of love and admiration and just general happiness because of a friend, so much so that it's almost overwhelming, and you are just so, so glad you met them and hope you'll never have to let them go and get to keep them in your life forever? Yeah ❤️💖🐗🧚‍♂️🦄

[anirudhpisharody]

.

[kellystar321]

.

[iguessitsjustme]

I have regrets