#I might need a tag for these if i keep doing them

[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

#pirateeznet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #choi san #san x reader #san x yn #san x you #san ateez #san smut

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(NSFW) Perfect Match - Tighnari x Fem!Tighnarian!Reader

A/N: Here's the third fem reader post for the few that happen to be on this blog. It's been some time since I last wrote a fic like this, but it's always nice to have a switch of perspective. As usual, and especially with this one as fem reader is not my forte, I'd really appreciate any thoughts and feedback you might have. Enjoy! CW: Tighnari is a little feral, reader and Tighnari go into heat, the usual smut.

Tighnari is such a contrast. Daily, he's quiet, patient and gentle (unless the circumstances demand something more than words), but when the heat grows, he turns just a little bit feral with you. 

The reason? Simple - he loves you. Oh, yeah, and the hormones also play a part in melting his needy brain. 

You've been together for some time now and Tighnari's instincts gave you the tag of his mate and he acted accordingly long before really acknowledging this. And, speaking honestly, he doesn't mind acting a little instinctual as long as you're fine with it. 

Keeping you close and protecting you is what he is meant to do with you as his female. Tighnari frequently takes the initiative in simple, everyday matters. Need to get out of a crowd? He's already holding your hand and guiding you safely through the people to a quieter place. When cuddling in bed, he always shifts to be the big spoon, security your smaller, warm body in his hold, close - just as you should be. If there is any imminent danger, you'll quickly find yourself gently pushed back behind him by his arm.  

He'll get possessive at times too. When he notices any other male forest rangers eyeing you with the curiosity you've got accustomed too - ears and a tail as beautiful as yours draw attention, obviously - his hand will make its way to your hip and stay there. When it's the heat season, Tighnari will also get quite defensive with you. If anybody is as little as unkind to you, he will step in to get them off your back. With all this comes a little bit of obvious suspicion, but simple communication is always enough to ease his worries about any of the other men you’re colleagues or friends with. 

Does it all bother you? Oh, not at all! How could it when every inch of him just radiates this unexplainable male allure you can't get enough of? 

There's something fascinating about the way he carries himself that you can't quite explain. It's how decisive he is, it's in the unique tone of his voice, it's in his subtly dominant nature. Your eyes pick up seemingly trivial things that you can't help but marvel at. You love how strong he is, be that due to his Vision or just how he is - nothing makes you more excited than being picked up (and pinned down too!). He does this with such ease too…

Being a young hybrid, Tighnari has his needs that, if not satiated, make him grumpy and quite irritated. If you're not feeling like it, he'll understand - as any good partner should. Which doesn't mean he won't be disappointed, mind you. A horny Tighnari significantly increases your chances of stumbling upon him furiously stroking himself or hearing his needy moans in the night as he blows another unsatisfying load. 

Even though his hand was enough to keep his lust at bay, it was hardly satisfying. Luckily, the days of jerking the edge off are gone now. Why cum into a tissue when he can empty his balls inside you? Compared to his hand your fertile, warm and wet pussy feels like absolute heaven…

… And his fat, pulsating cock is the ideal extinguisher for the fire in your womb. Your hybrid nature leaves you just as prone to bursts of irresistible arousal as him. Your heat might be a single month at the start of the year, but living alongside a fellow tighnarian makes your brain buzz with hormones. 

Between the two of you, there's a simple rule - when you're horny, you fuck. He knows well that when his thoughts wander, there's no way of fighting them off. That's when he'll signal his needs to you. Looking at you with those smug bedroom eyes, for example, is a clear sign that Tighnari would like to see you on the bed head-down-ass-up in the immediate future. 

Usually, it's your smell that catches his attention. His sensitive nose can pick it up flawlessly each time. Your scent is gentle, with only the slightest hint of musk included in the mix. You'll find Tighnari cuddling especially tightly in the mornings or after physical activity when your pheromones are at their strongest. It won't take much time for his hands to wander and his cock to harden. 

His scent is the perfect moisturizer for your pussy, yes, but it's also a little bothersome. Because. It. Is. Everywhere. On the pillows, on the couch, on the chairs, inside every room from the bedroom down to even the closet. In the first two months of the year it's just straight up impossible to ignore it or distract yourself from your husband's pheromones. Sometimes you're wondering if your ancestors were idiotic enough to not breed by themselves,  forcing evolution into giving them this neuron activation upon catching a whiff of dick or pussy. 

For example, doing laundry is tricky to do without getting flustered or horny. Tighnari’s musk is, obviously, the strongest on his clothes. So whenever you pick up one of his shirts or boxers and your sensitive nose finds just how strong his smell is, you suddenly become flustered and very interested in what's under the pair he is wearing right now. 

Luckily for you, Tighnari is a good husband and will fuck his cute little wife senseless when she needs it, and you’re more than glad to return the favour when he is in need. It's a simple instinct. You're his mate, and he is yours. Your scents are impossible to ignore, sending the more primal parts of your brains a simple message - you're both young, beautiful, healthy and ready to breed. Around him, your pussy clenches at nothing, your womb longing to be filled with baby-making cum, and around you his balls ache from all the creamy, virile seed he is making for you. 

This awareness, awareness of you being ripe for the picking, makes you irresistible for him. 

Although Tighnari's cock might be average in size, what he lacks in length he makes up for in sex drive and pure ferocity. He can fuck fast and he can fuck hard. He won't be stopping himself from manhandling you - you'll surely be surprised by just how strong a male like him can be. Whatever playful resistance efforts you may make and regardless of how much force you put into them, Tighnari will just growl and pin you down every single time. 

Primal play always gets him hot and bothered. In bed, he's the natural lead. He's the hungry predator, and you're his cute little prey. Struggle all you can, but at the end there's no escape from a thorough breeding. His hybrid stamina lets him cum again and again with barely any downtime between powerful orgasms that fill your insides with warm cum. 

His go to position is prone bone. Having your smaller, feminine body pinned under his weight, your hands locked under his and your pretty mouth desperately biting the sheets as he forces his swollen knot in and out of you drives him positively feral. Doggy style is also quite fun. Grabbing your tail and pulling it away to reveal your tight little asshole and drenched pussy lips is extremely satisfying. Sometimes he grabs your head and pulls it back, thoroughly enjoying the sight of your long ears folding in submission. 

While he isn't too much into receiving oral, he won't ever pass up the opportunity to feast on your pussy. If you give him the chance to, you'll find Tighnari greedily lapping at your folds, drinking up your scent and arousal like a parched man. When you sit on his face, you'll have a nice view of his cock, swollen, twitchy and overflowing with precum, just waiting to nestle in between your warm lower lips. How can this sight make you anything but absolutely crazy for his dick? You'll often find yourself locked in a sixty-nine with both of you furiously licking each other with your rough tongues. If he couples it with a passionate fuck afterwards, you'll be lucky to have your pretty legs work in the morning. 

But it is in January and February when your lust really makes an appearance. These two months are usually taken out of the calendar for you two - being apart from each other during your heat after having tasted what having a mate feels like is torture. Not even the best toys can replace him - they won't ever mimic his warmth, his desperate and frustrated groans, his arms locking your body in place or his ears, trembling and folding from the pleasure as he breeds you. 

His instincts tell him to pump a litter or two into your womb, and he'll announce his needs to you, whether you decide to go through with it or not. A condom or a pill is an absolute must if you want to be safe - it's usually very difficult to keep yourself from letting the lust take full control. It's absolutely not because your pussy milks him and throbs so much, desperate to suck him in just that millimeter deeper and get absolutely pumped with his baby making milk and end up leg locking him. 

Mornings with Tighnari are always fun, regardless of the season. You'll sometimes wake up to the sensation of him rubbing his length along your ass, moaning your name softly into your ear and asking, begging to be let in. You usually let him - it's not like you're not guilty of blowing him awake either. Whoever is the “waker-up”, they can certainly expect a wonderful, lazy morning breeding.

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x fem reader #genshin x fem reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #smut #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact tighnari #tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari x fem reader #tighnari x you #tighnari x y/n #tighnari smut #fem reader

[angelltheninth]

Hello! Idk if you still do batboys but I’ll give it a try! May I request for reader asking the batboys to lie on her lap and plays their hair and gives kisses after their long day.

They deserve to relax, you're so right.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, lap pillow, domestic fluff, petting

A/N: if you think about how much each of them has been through you'll realize that they really need something good to happen once in a while.

Dick is the one who melts when you place his head on your lap. He has a huge grin on his face and often asks for you to bend down a kiss him, might also bite your lip when you do that, it makes your thighs tense. Probably for the best if he didn't tease you too much, this is supposed to be a relaxing time.

Jason blushes when you put his head on top of your lap. Believe him he's trying not to look at your boobs but from this angle it's very hard not to, they're in his face. But he won't comment on this, he doesn't have time to because he's getting pretty sleepy from you running your hand through his hair.

Tim lays his head on your lap like he's a cat and doesn't stop talking to you about his day, very enthusiastically. This is the best way for him to unwind after patrol or a mission, even though he should be sleeping he wants to tell you about his day. If he feels like he might fall asleep he will go to bed, and invite you too.

Damian most of anyone else doesn't like the idea of being coddled by anyone or feeling like he's been too pampered. Will try to get up from your lap at first but if you keep him there for a bit and keep asking him questions while stroking his hair he will relax. He might even start placing your hand on his head so you don't stop touching him.

#dc comics x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics headcanons #dc comics fluff #dc comics x you #dc comics x female reader #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader #red robin x reader #robin x reader #titans x reader #titans imagine #titans headcanons #titans fluff #titans x you #titans x female reader #x female reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 19

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen rises, restless as her skirts sweep around her, streaked from the hem with the filth of the road. Her insistence on finery has proven fruitless. Her once prized gown will likely never be free of stains. She has many more, you only hope they survive the journey. 

She struts back and forth, scowling as she faces the wall and drops her shoulders. 

“Why is there no mirror?” She pouts, “this place is drab. How am I supposed to keep from going blind with dullness.” She flops back onto the bed, “ugh,” she rolls over, “maid, I need wine.” 

“Your highness,” you say sheepishly. 

“Do not,” she raises her hand in a harsh point, “I don’t care about the king’s orders. I have been on the road for weeks, I am sore, I am filthy, and I am tired!” She snaps her fingers, “if I want wine I will have it.” She puts her hand over her middle, “it is for the king’s child. He is thirsty.” 

You avert your eyes. You can’t deny her. Even if the king ordered that she be deprived, you cannot look her in the face and tell her no. If they king never knows, it mightn’t matter. You turn, your disobedience nipping at your ears. 

You emerge into the corridor. The orange-haired guard remains, along with the shadow standing across from him. Bryce looms, picking his nails with a small dagger.  

“Has the queen retired so early?” He asks. 

“She requires wine,” you return, “I won’t be long, sir. Might you point me towards the kitchen?” 

“I will accompany you,” he insists as he stand straight. 

“Do not trouble, sir, I am faster alone. I only need direction.” 

You see the disappointment tick in his cheek. You’re not so mad as you were, only cautious. The king will always come first, his will shall always circumvent your own. It is a reality you knew before but now it gleams in a much different light. 

“Down to the east, on the lower floors behind the statue of the knight in black armor,” he explains, “do take care not to lose yourself.” 

“I will, sir,” you nod and glance over at the other soldier. The man with carroty hair eyes you up and down. 

You flit off, hurrying upon your quest for a bottle. You’re not certain you’ll find bounty in your mission. This is not the king’s castle and you are not a thief. 

You descend and come around the bottom of the wide stone railings. The great hall is empty and only a few lanterns remain lit to guide you. You go east and find your way, coming upon the knight in black armour that at first appears as a real sentinel in the dark. You stop to look upon the suit, admiring the ripples in its forging. 

You go into the kitchen and find the haze of the stove lighting the empty space. You peer around at the dark alcoves as the air glows amber, pulsing with the heat of the embers. You tiptoe inside, narrowing your eyes to see through the dim. 

“Are ya lost?” A growl rises from the darkness. 

You spin and face the black silhouette of a large man stood on the other side of the thick wooden table at the center of the kitchens. You gulp and sway on your feet. He must be the cook or perhaps the cellarer. He likely thought you a rat scurrying around looking for crumbs. 

“No, sir, I... would there be a bottle of wine? For the queen?” You ask, your voice catching in your throat as he looms like some great husky bear. He reminds you of the white beast in the corridor as he comes around the table, the light catching the white of his thick locks. 

His body is as thick as a barrel and his shoulders broader. The flickering hue reveals the scar above his left brow and his pocked cheeks. You wonder at the tint of his hair as you try to tell if it’s the age the lines his face or if it is the same effect as the king. 

“Wine? For the queen?” He echoes sonorously, “hmmm.” 

“Yes, sir, if there would be any to spare?”  

“Mm, suppose a bottle might go missing,” he backs up and turns. He doesn’t beckon you onward but you follow anyway. Something about him bids you without a word. 

He takes you to the far end of the kitchens and grunts as he squats and reaches to his belt, jangling a ring of iron keys. He shoves one in the thick lock in the clasp of the hatch and unhooks it. He lifts the heavy door, thick cedar bolstered with steel and throws it back to hit the floor. 

“Ah, hold,” he signals you with a palm as he stands and retreats. 

He strides across the kitchens and without a word, shuffles in a cupboard. He mutters as he takes a tallow and lights its wick from the embers, setting it into a brass holder. He offers it to you and you take it without a word, curious at the grumbly cook. 

He descends the steep stairs first and you follow, balancing the candle carefully. He takes you by the elbow to help you to the beaten floor and you raise the candle to light the expanse of the cellar. It extends well past the limits of the flame’s eye. 

He goes to a shelf and slides a bottle free of its cubby. He tuts and puts it back. He pulls out several bottles before he makes a decision. He comes closer to examine the glass by the flame. 

“Summer wine,” he says and flicks his pale eyes up to you. They remind you of the king’s though they are paler in the candlelight. “And you, serve the summer queen?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You are a summerer?” He asks. 

“Sir,” you bow your head, “you can tell?” 

“Aye, no winter’s blood wears a cloak with walls to hold them over,” he chuckles and looks around. 

You glance down at the cloak. You hadn’t thought to remove it as the cold radiates from the stone. Even without the wind, a shiver creeps through your flesh. 

He frightens you as he reaches for you, only to touch the fur collar of the cloak, rubbing a tuft between his fingertips, “it is well made.” He lets his hand trail along the front and turns out the interior of the trim. You look down your nose as he reveals a patch you didn’t notice before; a wolf’s head. 

“Yes, sir, it is warm,” you agree and he withdraws his hand. 

“Suppose a summer’s maid needs it more than a winter’s king,” he says. 

You’re quiet. You have nothing to say to that. How many others took note of you in the king’s cloak? Do they whisper about it? 

“Your queen may take the wine,” he holds out the bottle, “and the king, might have a cask of ale should he require. Only one,” he lets go of the bottle as you accept it and holds up a finger, “he does not have leave to drink this cellar dry. Crown or no crown.” 

“Yes, sir. Many thanks.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, peering down at you, “a dove like you is out of place in this nest of vultures,” he muses and gently takes the candle from your hand, “better fly back to your queen, bird.” 

“Sir,” you turn towards the stairs as the candle illuminates your shadow against the shelves. You turn to climb and peer back at the man. He watches you, his eyes flickering with the flame. 

“Gentle creatures don’t fare well in the cold,” he clucks, “best keep that cloak close.” 

You ascend and cradle the bottle at the top, keeping it close as the liquid sloshes heavily inside. You pad over the kitchen floor and into the corridor. The great hall is even colder as the shadows ripple over you. As you come up the stairs, a shiver quakes through you. 

Something about that man, about his words, clings to you. His way of speaking is ominous, like those card readers who would visit Lady Rezlyn. Or perhaps it is only that you are waiting for the inevitable. 

As you near the queen’s chambers, you hear distant footsteps from the other direction. You come in sight of the grey soldier, spinning his knife as he whistles, the redhead guard sending him an irritated glower. You slow, preparing for the guard to repel you or at least seize the bottle from your arms. 

He does not. Even as he turns his scowl on you, he only reaches for the door to let you in. Before he can push inward, a throat clears. You all pause and turn to face the new figure. The king looks between you all; from the guard, to you, to Bryce. Your nerves flutter wildly. You haven’t been this close since the night on the pass. 

“I hope that wine is meant for you, Sir Bryce,” King Geralt booms, “as my queen is not permitted to indulge. She has a vile reaction to the stuff.” 

“Your highness,” the guard swallows audibly, “I... the queen--” 

“The queen is my wife and a wife must bend to the will of her husband,” the king insists hotly. The guard’s expression draws and he mutters an apology. 

“I was unaware of the ban,” Bryce intones, “but I’ll gladly claim the bottle for my own.” 

“Gilles,” King Geralt ignores the quip and points to the redhead guard, “you will inform the queen that she needs retire for the night. In her condition, it is necessary that she rests. If she requires sustenance, she may have bread and cheese and a bit of goat’s milk.” 

“Your highness,” the guard, Gilles, nods diligently. 

“And you will fetch it yourself,” the king insists, “I trust you might find your way around a tray.” 

Gilles stares at the king then slowly pushes into the queen’s chamber. The king nears and takes the bottle from your hand. You let him and back up as Bryce steps closer. 

“Your highness,” the soldier begins, “if I’d been aware--” 

“Hardly matters now,” the king shrugs and steps close to his man. He leans in and whispers something you cannot hear, “as you were,” he slaps his shoulder then continues on. You watch after him, perplexed but relieved at his indifference. Perhaps he has rethought his intent. 

Bryce is quiet until the king’s footfalls fade off. He lowers his chin, rubbing his thick beard. He touches your cloak, a small tug on it, “this way, maid. Let us find you a place to lay your head.” 

The promise of a bed is nice and reminds you of your weariness. Your legs ache as you follow Bryce along the corridor. Your shoulders rack and the remnants of the road begin to lace through your muscles. It is only as you think of laying down that you feel the effect of those last months. 

You yawn and stifle it in your hand. Bryce glances over and lets out a willowy breath. He is certain of his path despite the twists and turns. He directs you to a door at the base of one of the castle’s towers, opening it to a spiraling staircase. 

“Would be at the top.” 

You look up at the winding ascent. The walls are mounted with lanterns over every fifth step. You frown and pull back, turning to the soldier. Your stomach churns. 

“Up there? May I not rest in the servant’s quarters?” 

“You must be closer to the queen,” his lip trembles. He raises his chin and looks away. When his eyes meet yours again, he puts his hands on your shoulders, “rest your head, mouse, you’ve come very far. You’ve earned it.” 

You look at him. You know he isn’t saying all he could. He can’t. You put your hands on his arms and squeeze.  

“I’ll try,” you affirm, “thank you, sir. I am very tired.” 

“Yes, mouse, sleep,” he pulls away. 

“Good night, sir.” 

He hesitates, “good night.” 

He turns stiffly and marches off. You step into the staircase as his shadow disappears and you pull the door shut. You look up, climbing step by step, legs shaking as you get higher and higher. You reach the top step and another door. 

You push the handle down and the lever rises on the other side. You enter the chamber to find it empty. You stand at the threshold and turn, searching for any shadow, any shimmer in the low light of the fireplace. It’s only you. 

You breathe and turn to look down the staircase. You listen. Nothing but the winds battering the walls without. You close the door and slowly wade into the warmth of the room. The windows are hung in heavy curtains and there is a tray waiting on the table. An ewer, cups, a plate heaping with delights. You aren’t hungry for any of it, you’re too uneasy. 

You unbuckle the cloak and drag it from your shoulders. You turn it over your arm and feel the patch sewn into the lining, examining the wolf’s yellow eyes. He’d marked you and you never even knew it. You fold the heavy length over a chair and back away. 

You untie your cap and unveil the short shanks of hair jutting out from your scalp. You haven’t had a chance to shear your unruly locks before they could get too long. You fold the cap and put it on the bed. You remove your apron then your dress and leave them with your cap. 

You take a pillow and a blanket from the mattress and bring them down to the bench at the end of the bed. You fit yourself onto the hardwood and watch the fire’s light pulse on the stone wall. Your eyes glimmer with tears, turning your vision to speckled hues. 

It’s all so nice, too nice for you, and knowing why you’ve come upon it, turns it sour. It is not kindness, there is expectation attached to such generosity. You should’ve known. You did. You were just too stupid to see it, just as the queen always said. 

You twit. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket to your chin. You embrace the warmth, your one comfort left. There’s a long road that awaits you still. Not only through the Hinterlands but another, more treacherous path. One you never meant to stumble upon. 

Your body weakens, succumbing to your fatigue, overtaking your wrought mind. Your eyes roll back behind their lids and your breath peters out. Sleep enshrines you as blackness eclipses the orange haze of the chamber. 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

[glorious-spoon]

tell me all the things that i wanna hear [9-1-1 | Buck/Tommy; Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

1.3k words | feelings realization | episode tag

about a week ago i wrote this post about an eddie feelings realization at the bachelor party, so naturally after last night's episode i had to write the fic.

tell me all the things that i wanna hear [on AO3]

-

He doesn't remember it right away.

Which is… not surprising, probably. The bachelor party that wasn't marks the drunkest he's been since before Chris was born, possibly the drunkest he's ever been in his life. He wakes up in a bathtub shirtless and so hungover that he wants to die, and then they discover that Chimney is missing, and it's a long, stressful, terrifying fucking day that keeps Eddie way too busy to focus on any of the garbled flashes of memory from last night. Busting down a hotel door and shouting off-key karaoke at Buck and tilting sloppily together while they poured each other shots—stupid party shit that he's honestly too old for. They're definitely going to owe the hotel damage fees out the ass.

But in the end, Chim is okay. Or, if not okay, at least safely ensconced in a hospital bed. Eddie leaves to pick Chris up from Pepa's and he's still there, shooting the shit with his abuela and slowly sipping his fourth Gatorade of the day in the hopes that it'll settle his stomach enough for him to eat dinner, when he gets the text from Buck that the wedding is still on and he needs to get his ass back to the hospital. So he packs Chris in the car, and doesn't fight it when his abuela also insists on coming—Pepa waves them off with an indulgent smile—and doesn't allow himself to be relieved that the short notice means he has an excuse not to mention it to Marisol.

It's a beautiful wedding, in the end. Perfectly imperfect, in the way all the best things in life are. Eddie gets a little teary-eyed when Chim and Maddie slip the rings onto each other's fingers, and he claps with all the rest, and he just happens to glance up in time to see a flash of blue as Buck slips out the door.

For a moment, he considers following, but Karen nearly trips bringing the cake in, so Eddie jumps in to catch her before tonight can turn into any more of a catastrophe than it already is. From there, there's the usual party bustle of divvying up cake and passing out paper plates, and he forgets about Buck for a little while, at least until he tugs Tommy through the door, the both of them beaming like fools and covered in soot in a way that makes it very fucking obvious what Buck just spent the last twenty minutes doing with his mouth.

Eddie doesn't remember it then, either. He snickers while he watches the rest of the room catch on, while Buck introduces Tommy around to the people who don't already know him, and he catches Buck by the arm as he's making his way over to the cake.

"You might want to go wash your face there, bud," he says.

"What?" Buck blinks at him. Then he rubs at his cheek, and looks at his sooty hand, and goes bright red. "Oh. Um. Shit."

"Yeah."

"I was wondering why…" To Eddie's relief, he's laughing. "Well, that's one way to come out to everybody. Right?"

Eddie laughs. "I guess so. You feeling alright about it?"

"Yeah," Buck says. He glances over to where Tommy is talking to Chim and Maddie. Like he sensed it, Tommy glances up and grins brilliantly at him, and Eddie watches something in Buck's expression go soft and warm and pleased. "Yeah. I'm—I'm feeling really, really good about it."

Eddie's heart gives a funny little thump in his chest. He pats Buck's arm, then lets go. "Well, good. Happy for you, man."

"Thanks, Eddie." Just for a moment, Buck turns that soft expression on him. Then he says, "I'm gonna, uh, go wash up. Save me some cake!"

"Sure," Eddie says, but Buck's already gone. He threads through the crowd to Tommy's side, says something in a low voice to him that makes him laugh and Chim put a long-suffering hand over his eyes. Then they're both moving toward the door together, Tommy's hand resting low on Buck's back.

"Dad, can I have another slice of cake?"

He looks down at Chris. "I don't know, mijo, it's kind of…"

"Come on."

"Alright, fine," Eddie says, caving, if only so he doesn't keep looking at the door that Buck and Tommy left through.

They reappear a few minutes later, freshly scrubbed, and Eddie watches Hen hug first Buck, and then Tommy, who looks startled but hugs her back. Then they head through the crowd together toward the cake. Their hands are linked together. Eddie decides that's a good moment to go give Maddie and Chim his congratulations.

He doesn't remember it then, either. It's not until later, when the crowd is finally trickling out ahead of the end of visiting hours and Maddie and Chim take turns hugging a sleepy Jee-Yun before handing her over to Mrs. Lee, that Buck sidles up to him. 

"I'm gonna get going," he says. Then, to Chris, "Hey, Superman. Awesome party, huh?"

Chris shrugs, all studied adolescent indifference like he didn't insist on coming along. "It was okay. The cake was good."

"Actually, we should probably get going pretty soon too," Eddie says. "Abuela, you good?"

She flaps a hand at him and goes back to her conversation with Mr. Lee, and Buck says, "I'm gonna, uh, give Tommy a ride back to the station so he can drop off his gear."

He's blushing again. Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him. "Just to the station, huh?"

"Shut up," Buck mutters, but he looks pleased. He looks happy, the way a smile steals helplessly onto his face when he glances up at Tommy, who's standing by the door with his turnout coat slung over his arm, talking to Karen. Who glances up like he could tell Buck was looking at him, and smiles back.

"I mean it," Eddie says, instead of ribbing him some more. "I'm happy for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Buck mutters, slinging an arm over his shoulders and pulling him into a jostling half-hug. "I love you, man. You know that, right?"

Eddie tilts against him, his nose just bumping the edge of Buck's jaw, and that's when the memory hits him like a bullet, or a lightning bolt, or something equally sudden and devastating.

That couch in the hotel room. Sitting there with Buck's arm around his shoulders and one of Buck's legs flung over his knees—his shirt was gone by then, and Buck had lost his jacket, and Eddie could feel the warmth of his body through the thin tee he had on underneath. He was waving his hands as he spoke, jostling Eddie, and Eddie turned his face toward Buck and bumped his nose against his cheek just like he is now, and thought with perfect, sober clarity, I could kiss him right now. I want to kiss him.

He goes still. Buck must feel it, because he jostles Eddie a little, his warm, stubbled jaw rough against the bridge of Eddie's nose for just an instant before Eddie turns his head away. "Eddie? You good?"

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't look up at Buck. Isn't sure he could stand to see his face, this close: his blue eyes, his soft lips, he was just kissing Tommy, he wants Tommy, not you, and anyway you're not—you don't—you can't— "Yeah, I'm good. Just kinda hoping I never see another shot of tequila as long as I live."

"Oh, tell me about it," Buck says, and finally releases him. "In retrospect, that was so fucking dumb." "Swear jar," Chris remarks, without looking up from his Switch. 

"Put it on my tab," Buck says, ruffling his hair. "See you guys later."

"Yeah, later," Eddie says, a beat too late. Buck doesn't seem to notice, thankfully. He gives Eddie a quick grin and heads back to where Tommy is waiting. Karen hugs him, and then Hen does, and Tommy waves at Eddie, who manages to gather the wherewithal to wave back. And then they're gone.

Eddie rubs his knuckles against his sternum, where a dull ache has taken up residence, then lets his hand and pulls a smile on before anyone can see.

#911 #911 spoilers #buddie #bucktommy #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #my fic

[unhingedhiro]

clingy!cheol 2

words count -> >500. i think. it’s a rough estimate that doesn’t seem wrong

tags -> insomniac!reader, this is a projection zone around here, clingy!cheol as always, mentions of fainting from exhaustion, questionable grammar and proofreading as always, fluff, cheol might not fully know but he’s got the spirit, sleepy!cheol

tryna fight the insomnia because i actually have something to do tmrw and the insomnia is winning 🙏🙏 brought to you by a hiro who would give their left foot to have a cheol lull them to sleep by hugs

thinking cheol who knows his partner is a consistent insomniac, occasionally being jolted awake at three am in the morning from unexpected movements from you as you struggle to find the perfect comfy position, or from you typing away on your laptop either adding to the work you’d done earlier that day or trying out a new form of journaling. usually, he won’t mind it, watching with nothing but amusement and affection in his eyes as his sleep addled brain lulls him back to slumber once he has you in his arms again.

but sometimes, it’s different. sometimes, it’s endless hours of tossing and turning and cheol is often more than privy to the amount of frustration it causes you. he’ll awaken from whatever sleep he’s managed to provide himself to you leaving the bed, a sleepy whine just about escaping him.

“love, where’re you going?”

it takes a moment for you to realise he’s woken up, unsurprisingly from having had the warmth in his arms suddenly disappear.

“just gonna grab a glass of water, cheol.”

fatigue is evident in your voice, and he can tell that something’s not quite right.

“can’t sleep?”

it’s silence for a moment, until he sees your shoulders sag and a small sigh escapes you.

“yeah.”

with this, cheol is slowly shifting, forcing whatever energy he’s scraped together from his two hours of sleep to sit up, clearly intending to follow you to the kitchen. it elicits nothing but protests from you.

“hey, hey, cheol no, please go back to sleep, you’ve had such a tiring day today, i’ll be asleep soon i just need some time to clear my thoughts-“

“but i can’t.”

with this, you cock your head and cheol almost sheepishly explains before your expression can truly morph to that of a confused one.

“can’t sleep without you at my side anymore.”

oh.

bless this sweet man and his sweeter heart, you think, backtracking your way to his side of the bed to gently caress the strands of orange on his head, clearly fading from the vibrant red it was two weeks ago when he’d burst home, a proud grin on his face, awaiting your reaction to his new hair.

he leans into your touch, eyes closed, exhaustion evident on his face. eventually, he reaches up, gently pulling you onto his lap and into his arms.

“thoughts keeping you awake again?”

“mn.”, you hum, pressing your face into his chest. it’s soft, bringing forward a sense of comfort you never quite knew you needed as badly as you did right then.

cheol had always been privy to your insomnia - it had been there since the day he’d first fallen asleep by your side, had been there when it pushed you to fainting in the middle of work, and he’s now here, caressing your hair and pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

cheol’s affections don’t particularly soothe you to sleep completely, but it brings you some sense of calm and comfort to be wrapped in his arms, nothing but soft touches and small, tired murmurs of “love you” falling from cheol’s lips.

you look up to his face, small smile dancing across your lips when you notice his eyes are closed once more, ghost of a smile on his face as he remains wrapped around you like a teddy bear. eventually, he’ll slump into the bed, taking you with him. eventually, you too feel exhaustion begin to get the better of you, the need for water and a walk beginning to escape you. perhaps next time, it would help to keep a water bottle beside your table.

and again, it’s not much, but it comforts the both of you to know you’re not waking yourself up further by walking around for a glass of water, and you’re getting your much needed pre-sleep hydration. once you’re ready to attempt to fall asleep again, cheol is ready to welcome you with open arms, a tired but satisfied look on his face as you fall into his embrace. it takes a while to fall asleep, as always, but it’s always less isolating and lonesome with cheol by your side, clinging onto you like you’ll crumble into dust when he lets go.

#hiro brainrots #scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #cheol missing hours #average clingy!cheol enjoyer suffering from insomnia #just need a hug from cheol fr :(( #it would fix my life #it would fix Me

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Can I request Reader asking Astarion nervously if you can spank him? Only if he's interested & after discussing about his boundaries & safe words!

Just for you, beloved anon.

NSFW below the cut! Mind the tags, and minors, please don't interact!

"So, I have a proposition for you," you begin, leaning back against the counter. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you try as hard as you can to push your apprehension down. He'd told you to be honest, after all. He'd told you to ask.

Astarion lifts his head from the book he's reading at the table in the middle of your kitchen, attention immediately redirected to you. He closes it without looking away from your face. "Oh? Do tell. You always have the most interesting ideas."

You grin at him at the same time he grins at you, and you both have to stifle a laugh. Your ideas are very interesting, if you do say so yourself. Astarion certainly tends to think so, if the way he'd flushed the time you suggested fucking him instead of the other way round was any indication.

It takes real effort to draw your focus back to the conversation at hand instead of reminiscing on where that particular discussion had led. "I was thinking about things I might like to try, like we talked about."

Astarion straightens in his chair. "Go on."

"And I came up with something else." You take a breath. There's really no good way to say it, so you just brace youself and hope for the best. "I want to try spanking. Spanking you. So do with that what you will."

There's a heavy silence once you've spoken, the two of you staring at each other in a beat of mutual thought. Anxiety surges in your chest as you watch his face, looking for any sign of discomfort or disgust. The last time you talked about sex and limits, you'd promised each other that you'd share any fantasies that came up. Astarion wants to experiment as much as possible, wants to find out what he likes, and he said he would at least consider virtually anything. But this is something you haven't tried yet: you haven't ever taken the more dominant role when those dynamics come into play. It could be a problem, you know that, and of course you're afraid that even asking will remind him of things he'd rather forget. But you want to give him the opportunity to say yes or no instead of making his decisions for him.

A slow smile starts to spread across Astarion's face as he stands up from his chair, crossing the space between you in two strides and pressing so close that you have to crane your neck up to see him properly. His fangs flash over his bottom lip, his eyes darken, and when he croons "Well, darling, I think I could be amenable," you're flooded with the heat of knowing he wants it as bad as you do.

So it is that you find yourself watching Astarion undress himself before you as you sit on the side of your bed, fully clothed. You're long past any need for modesty with each other, and he flashes you a sultry smirk as he pulls his shirt over his head.

"Same safe-words as always?" you ask. Astarion tugs his trousers down, and you get a rather delightful view of the toned muscles in his thighs as he kicks them off (and across the room, but that's something to deal with later).

"Fine with me," he says. "'Dagger' for stop. Snap of the fingers if we can't talk." His underwear goes the same way as his trousers, and before you know it he's straddling your lap, arms thrown around your neck. His lips are on yours almost instantly, and you kiss him back with pure muscle memory, raising your hands to cup his face and run your fingers through his curls. When you tug ever-so-gently, you're rewarded with the smallest moan into your mouth.

It takes the better part of fifteen minutes to get completely situated- you're entirely unable to keep your hands off of each other, and at one point Astarion nearly derails the whole thing by pinching your nipples through the fabric of your shirt- but you get there eventually. Astarion lies over your lap, facedown, his ass exposed to you. He rests his head on his arms and wiggles a little as he settles.

"Are you ready?" you ask, sliding your palm over the smooth skin of his lower back.

"Yes," he says, and no more than that. Before you have time to talk yourself out of it, you cup one of his cheeks, then quickly smack it with the flattest part of your hand.

It's not a particularly hard blow, but Astarion jolts a bit anyway, his cock dragging against the inner part of your thigh. He takes a breath- one, two, three- and you see his fingers flex in the fabric of the bedspread.

"Again," he hisses. "Gods- again," and his voice is low and strained and almost unbelievably fucking hot, and you've never been good at saying no to him. Every time you hit him, he tells you again, more. Every time you hit him, he seems to grow harder against you. You spank him again and again, alternating between cheeks, hitting every part of his ass until his skin glows pink., and you're raising your hand to deliver another blow when he stumbles on his demand.

Your hand stills. "Is this alright?"

Astarion lifts his head to look over his shoulder at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"I just want to hear you say it."

You can almost physically see him biting back whatever quip or barb has sprung to the tip of his tongue. "Yes, darling," he says instead, letting his head fall back down to the mattress. "It's alright. It's- it's good."

Reassured, you raise your hand. Astarion tenses when you pull away, already anticipating the next blow. it's obvious that he's expecting it (and that he wants it- he's grinding shallowly against your thigh, little aborted thrusts of his hips that he's clearly struggling to keep control of), but you refuse to give it to him, just for a second. Instead, you trail your fingertips up his side and relish in the reaction you get: a soft sigh and a gorgeous shiver.

He does look good like this, you think to yourself as you squeeze his hip just enough to win a short little gasp. What a privilege to be the one to get to see it. His ass has blushed a very pretty shade of pink where he's taken your blows. Something deep in your belly twists at the knowledge that it's your blood that courses through his veins. Your blood that fills the hard cock digging insistently into your inner thigh.

"How many more do you think, darling?" you murmur, running a soothing hand up his spine and into the downy hair at the nape of his neck. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what will get you there."

He hesitates only a moment. "Twenty." His voice is steadier than you would have thought. "Give me twenty. I..I want to know how it feels."

"Alright, love." Your hand returns to the curve of his ass. You gently press your fingertips into his reddened skin and admire the pale marks left behind.

Later, you'll remember as clearly as if you're living through it again. On the first hit, Astarion gasps, a sharp inhale of breath that he doesn't need or mean to take. On the fifth hit, he starts making sounds in the back of his throat, punched-out little ah-ah-ahs as your hand connects with his ass again and again. On the eleventh hit, Astarion begins to lose control of the movement of his body, and the restrained grind of his cock against your thighs becomes more and more frantic. On the sixteenth hit, he cries out, genuinely cries out, a wordless shout of pain and pleasure. He doesn't say his safe-word, doesn't signal you, just writhes in your lap alive with arousal and need. And on the nineteenth hit, he comes with a wanton, aching moan, unable to stop himself from leaving your thighs an absolute mess. You stop there, and when you gently brush the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and whisper "thank you," Astarion smiles at you like you've lit the sun.

Afterward, there are hours (maybe even days) of aftercare, and the two of you discuss every single part of what you've done together: what you liked best, what you want to do again, what felt good. The next time you find yourself in the same position, it's him who asks you, a pink flush at the tips of his ears. For now, though, you're content to take care of him.

#.astarion #.spanking #presenting this to the world with the same energy as that one cunty picture of dwight eisenhower #i think it's actually more likely that astarion would be the one to ask for this but that's a whole other story... #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion x reader #.nsft #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you

[dehydrated-turtle]

//warnings// nsfw, 16+

//contents// trans reader, fluffy, smut, dick grayson x reader

//synopsis// how does morning wood lead to pussy eating? i guess that's just what gets dick off - wc: 450

//full fic on ao3// (ill tag when im done)

The morning is golden, shimmering and dancing between the leaves on the trees, spilling through the glass of your bedroom window. Light dancing around the room and over your face as you start to stir. The lush greenery glowing in through the window and the robins chirping away as spring blooms outside. Your whole body comes to realization and consciousness in a couple of minutes. You feel an arm around your waist that comes up to meet your hand, fingers intertwined. You can feel the warm breath of your boyfriend, Dick Grayson along your neck, his nose nuzzled into you. 

You start to feel Dick move and hear the duvet shuffle as well as a groan that comes from his mouth that sounds suspiciously like a moan. He presses his hips into your back lightly and you feel his hard on, throbbing against your ass. His hand tightens around yours as his hips start to move lazily. Soft little moans spill from his throat as he keeps rolling into your back, sound asleep. You don’t really want him to stop because it’s really cute but you can tell he needs more and you’re already awake so might as well help the poor guy. 

“Dick…” you whisper, shaking his shoulder lightly, trying to wake him. 

“Hm?” He groaned, opening his eyes slowly. 

“You need some help there, bud?” 

“What… oh um…” he starts to go red as his eyes struggle to open and he avoids eye contact which earns a smile from you. 

“It’s ok, honey. Let me help.” 

“Hm, you’re too good to me…” He whispers as he cups your cheek with his hand and takes your lips into a soft and sensuous kiss, breathing against your face. Your hand travels to his waist, luring him toward you. You pull him, lightly, on top of you as you slip your tongue past his lips. He grants it entry with a low moan and earns a rolling of his hips. He’s rutting into your thigh now, you can feel his cock throbbing against your skin. The PJ shorts you are wearing have been pushed all the way up to your hips. 

“I have a fantastic idea…” he whispered into the crook of your neck. 

“Hm, and what would that be?” 

“You’ll see.” 

He started to shimmy his way down, pulling the duvet over his head, disappearing into the sea of sheets. You could feel him pull down your shorts and slip them off, discarding them somewhere under the covers. The anticipation is bubbling because you cannot see what he’s about to do. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, just waiting to see what he’s going to do. Or rather, not see. 

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson fanfic #nightwing fanfic #dick grayson x reader #trans reader #ftm reader #nightwing x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #batman #batfamily #dick grayson x trans reader #dc #dick grayson smut #smut #ao3 fanfic #fluff #imagine #dehydrated turtle #dick grayson fic

[everybodyshusband]

mushy may 2024 - day 1 ; cuteness aggression

pairing(s): aether/rain tags: sleep deprivation, semi-crack, domestic fluff words: approx. 800

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

“What’cha reading, Aeth?”

Aether startles and looks up at Rain’s voice, surprised to hear anyone else’s voice in the usually abandoned library. “Oh hey, Rainy. What’re you doing in the library? It’s late.”

Rain shakes his head and smiles in affectionate disbelief. “I came to get you, idiot. It’s late,” he mimics.

“Yeah, but it’s not that la–” A glance at the watch on his wrist is enough to shut Aether up. He sets his book down and scrubs his hands over his face. “Fuck, where did the time go? I swear it was only seven about an hour ago.”

“And now it’ll be seven in about an hour,” Rain reminds him, holding out his hands ready to haul Aether to his feet. “C’mon, up you get, love. It’s way past your bedtime,” he teases.

“I can get up by myself,” Aether protests, but he still takes hold of the water ghoul’s hands and allows him to pull him and his stiff joints to his feet. He groans as his knees twinge from hours of disuse and his vision turns into static for a moment. Rain allows him a few moments to get his bearings before he’s taking the quintessence ghoul’s hand and gently guiding him back to the ghouls’ den.

“Have you eaten?” Rain asks him, pulling him around a corner and into the hidden short-cut corridor that Aether always forgets about.

He nods. “Grabbed leftovers from last night before I headed out, don’t you worry, Rainy.”

Rain hums, pleased. “Good. What’d you have?”

“Pasta.”

“Carbonara?” They’re almost at the ghoul den now. Aether really should begin to take note of all the hidden passages and shortcuts built into the Abbey’s architecture, they’ve shaved at least ten minutes off of an otherwise long and boring journey through the cold corridors.

“You know it.”

“How does Mount manage to make it so fucking well?” Rain almost takes a wrong turn, clearly preoccupied with the idea of stealing the last serving of leftover carbonara for breakfast.

“Magic?” Aether offers. He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Maybe he’s a pasta ghoul…”

Rain stops dead in his tracks. “Aeth, darling, light of my life,” he begins. “I love you more than life itself but I think the sleep deprivation might be getting to you.”

Aether shakes his head emphatically. “Nuh uh,” he protests. “Think about it. Pasta is made from wheat and where does wheat come from?”

Rain just stares at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“The earth!” Aether spreads his arms out wide, his eyes widening too, shocked that Rain isn’t as affected by this newfound discovery as he is.

Rain rolls his eyes and continues to drag Aether along, grinning uncontrollably at the absurdity of his adorably sleep deprived packmate. Aether doesn’t understand it, Rain shouldn’t be smiling, he should be horrified at the secret Mountain, their ‘earth’ ghoul has been keeping from them all these years!

The two of them make their way quietly to Aether’s room, ignoring the signs and sounds of life floating from the kitchen. The rest of the world may be waking up now, but Rain is adamant that Aether needs his sleep and who would Aether be if he ignored the wishes of the water ghoul who so kindly came to fetch him from working himself to madness in the library.

“I think you’re already there, love,” Rain says kindly. “Some sleep’ll put you right again though.”

Ah, he must have said that out loud.

“Yep, you did.”

Aether should really stop talking out loud in his head.

Rain stops seemingly for no reason and turns to face Aether. “I can’t fucking take it anymore, you’re too fucking cute when you’re sleepy!” He takes Aether’s face in his hands and smooshes his cheeks together.

“Wha’re you do’n’ ‘ainy?” He’s trying to ask Rain what he’s doing but his voice is all muffled from the water ghoul’s manipulation of his mouth.

“Squishing you,” Rain says simply. “Because I love you and I can’t handle how silly you get when you’re tired.” He takes a deep breath, stares at Aether’s face and suddenly, out of nowhere, screams. “Ahhh!” Right at Aether.

“I fink you ‘re ‘eepy ‘oo…” Aether hadn’t noticed until now but Rain must be tired as well, he’s got a ring of darkness underneath his eyes that differs from his usual markings.

Rain lets go of Aether’s face and the quintessence ghoul wiggles his jaw, getting used to the feeling of being in command of his own muscles again. “...That may be a possibility.”

Aether grabs Rain’s hand and leads him in the direction of his bedroom. “C’mon, we’ll both go sleep.” He narrows his eyes as they walk past Mountain’s door. “An’ then we can talk about Mountain being made of pasta…”

#mushy may 2024 #husband ficlets #aether ghoul #rain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #husband's mushy may '24

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Would Yves join me on the anime fes :00 Cosplay with me even? Or does he simply here to accompany me while I do the photoshooting and buy silly stuffs from the booths? Love your writing and Yves 🫶

He would absolutely tag along, cosplaying with you too. Yves prefers to cosplay as characters that already look similar to him, but it has to be fully clothed. You might notice that he would cosplay as a feminine presenting character most of the time.

There will be stares as Yves could easily tower over everyone in the convention regardless of whether he is in cosplay or not. After the first few festivals, Yves would choose to dress up as a character that wears a mask. Because it annoyed him to no end that he kept getting scouted by modelling agencies. Yes, there would still be a good number of people who requested to take photos with him, but at least there is one less group to worry about. And no, it isn't flattering him that a good number of them think he should be a model.

He would buy you the merchandise that you want, but only to a certain extent. Yves believes that you should respect the things you own, because they help you with your day-to-day life, and you should be grateful for their purpose. If he thinks you are buying too much, that you would leave the majority of them to either dry-rot, mold or collect dust in your closet, Yves would stop you.

It's a different story if he knows you will eventually gift it to someone else, donate it, or you're simply buying to support the creator. He would gladly fork over his hard earned money to see you smile with glee.

Yves lets you hang out with your friends, or the people who generally do your photoshoots. But it would be a lie to say Yves's lower eyelid doesn't twitch in sheer irritation when he sees your camera person filming you in an awkward angle, everything they're doing is wrong, wrong wrong. It would be so much better if he did it, and it is true. Whatever he captures is of film-like quality, always getting your good sides and making you ethereal regardless of what shitty background is behind you.

He would get along fine with your friends. But you would notice he isn't interested in discussing any consumable media. Yves would only speak up if it's regarding you and how you act, any anecdote he can glean that mentions you, he will squeeze it out of them. And they're still so enamored by Yves, because he is just unbelievably hot and manipulative.

Yves would appear in pictures if you ask him to. But just like a certain prescription-glasses-wearing-professional-boxer, he prefers to be the photographer instead.

He would be walking around carrying a handbag that fits the theme of his outfit. It contains materials and equipment to fix your costume whenever it has a malfunction, a water bottle to keep you hydrated, deodorant, documents required (i.e., physical tickets, your ID, his ID, etc.), tasty homemade food neatly packed in a container because he doesn't trust the quality of the vendors there, your phone, your camera, any emergency medication... Yves is essentially your breathing, talking inventory.

You wouldn't need to worry about being responsible for your own belongings, or worry if a large backpack is going to ruin your cosplay, Yves will take care of that for you.

All he wants you to do is have fun and come to him when you're ready to leave or if you need anything at all.

And all he wants to do, is to observe you.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

[dre6ming]

Wedding plans -TDBR

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Warnings: none, fluff, a little crying

Plot: making wedding plans with Austin is so wholesome

Word count: ~1.9k

Masterlist

TDBR series

Tag list - add yourself

A/n: this was a request and I apologize it took me so long to fulfill it. Request are still open but keep in mind I’m very slow when it comes to posting, but feel free to send them

Thinking back to 9 years ago when you met Austin, you never thought you'd end up here, drowning in tulle and chiffon, laughing with your best friends, tripping over lace veils. "What do you think of this?" You make a little pirouette to show the ample skirt, feeling like a princess head to toe. "It's cute." Taylor says, drinking some lemonade, brushing her bangs back. "Yeah, it's nice" Roxanne adds clearly not loving the dress as well. "So it's not it!" You say dropping your arms at your sides, sighing heavily. "Maybe the next one?!" Timothee sounds hopeful, but part of you feels that is only because, this is the 10th time you all dedicate a day for dress shopping. "Ok I'll go try it!" You say a bit defeated, lifting the front of the dress so you don't trip. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror as you walk away, you liked this one, but to be fair you liked every single one before this one as well, they are all so different and unique, but they are simply not your dress.

The next dress you put on, gives you shivers. It's made of silk, with pleats and boning, accentuating your waist perfectly and the dropped shoulders make you look angelic and sexy at the same time. This is it. "I found it!" You squeal, coming out of the dressing room in a heist, giggling and kicking your feet happily.

"Wow!"

"OH my god this is it!"

"You look wonderful!"

"I'm going to cry!"

"Please don't cry mom!" You giggle, blinking back tears, as you turn around to take a look in the big mirrors. The dress hugs your waist, the silhouette complimenting you so beautifully, your breasts look amazing in it too and magically it's your size, so no alterations will be needed. "I can't believe it! I finally found it!" You say, your voice breaking as you still try very hard not to cry. Taylor comes up from behind you, hugging your shoulders and resting her chin on your shoulder, her eyes watch you through the mirror and you notice her glossy blue eyes, tears in them as well. "I can, because it was meant to be!" She sniffs, kissing your cheek before sticking a veil in you hair. You take a better look at it in the mirror, immediately panicking when you recognize the piece, starting to take it out of your hair, but Taylor stops you before you can.

"Taylor I can't, this is..."

"Your something borrowed!" She assures, smiling bright. The veil somehow works perfectly with the dress, like it was meant to be. Looking at it you remember as clear as now the day you saw Taylor in a boutique not much different from this one, find her dress and her veil. She got married to Joe wearing this, the memories of one of her best days are tied to this piece of material. "Ok ok..." you breathe out, smoothing your dress. "What about gloves? I know Taylor already gave you the veil, but mom insisted I give you these?" Timothee says, handing you a pair of silk gloves. "Thanks Timmy!" You say hugging him tight as you put them on. The look seems now complete and you feel complete.

You walk through the dark apartment, tip toeing, trying not to make too much noise, knowing Austin is probably asleep. He was away filming some projects for the past week and you were supposed to be here when he got home, but he insisted that you don't rush your day with the girls and Timmy. "Y/n?" You hear Austin's groggy voice and it stops you right in your tracks. "Baby?" You feel his arms circle your waist in the dark and your body turns to slime. He places a kiss on top of your head, inhaling your scent. "I missed you!" Austin tells you honestly, squeezing you so tight you think you might burst at the seams, but you love feeling like this, engulfed in him. "I missed you too!" You sigh into him , happy to feel him on you, rubbing your cheek on the soft hairs on his chest. "I found the dress." You announce , biting your lip excited for his reaction.

"The dress? You mean THE dress?" Austin takes a step back looking at your face, trying to see if you're lying. "The dress!" You nod, smiling at him. He grabs your face and smashes his lips onto yours. You let him take control, while his mouth dominates you, his tongue explores your mouth and your heart flutters in your chest. "Can I see?" He asks breathless, "No! It's bad luck!" You chuckle, shaking your head, threading your hands in his soft hair. "Hmm ok, then show me everything else you got done while I was gone?" He arches a brow, smirking at you. "Oh yes yes, come on!" You say jovially, grabbing his hand, dragging him to your shared bedroom to get your wedding binder.

"Ok so I got done with the sitting chart, I might have done it a little risky, but, it'll work." You open the glitter decorated binder and show him the sketch you made. "So we sit, Katy and Orlando at the same table as Tom and Daya, ok" Austin says, reading closely over the guests , seeing where your brain has decided that they each should sit. "And I thought we could get away with having Baz sit with your dad and sister, I mean it would be a family table, right?"

"Mhm, yes , it works, honestly this looks fine to me. But what about your mom and dad?" Austin asks, not being able to make full sense of the chart. "We'll have a long table, we sit in the middle, my bridesmaids of my side your groomsmen of yours, for dad I'm saving a seat at the table with Baz and your dad, he hasn't RSVP ed yet" you explain and he nods following your chain of thought. "Ok it sounds like a plan, I think it would work, but I think Ash wants to bring Robbie, would that be fine?" He asks, referring to his nephew. "Hm sure, then I'll have Baz and Cathrine as the table with Pedro, move around Roxy and Joshua, then Ashley and Robbie and Zac can sit with Joe" You try and Austin seems to consider it for a minute, even if he know he'll agree anyway. "Good thinking baby!" He admits and you move on to showing him the flowers you picked "No purple star flowers?" He asks, looking at the white gardenia bouquets, thinking how you left out your favorite flower. "I have a theme, ok? It's white and creams and stuff." You defend.

"But honey, I think we could play with the colors a bit, don't you?" Austin suggests and you swipe on the next doc, titled: back up flowers. "Are you sure they look fine, tho?" You question, fearing the white and purple bouquets would be too much or too out of theme. "There's my girl!" He says, kissing your cheek. "They look like something that should be at our wedding, don't they? The purple star flowers, the sunflowers and you even put my favorite in, the pink magnolias" Austin can be so over the top sometimes, but he's an actor, so that's so in character. "I wanted to have something from the both of us."

"Well I think it look so beautiful way better then the white boring ones you had as a first option" he argues. "Oh ok miss I know everything about flower arrangements" you joke, kissing him, throwing the binder to the side, turning to face him and straddling his hips. "I want it to be perfect!" You whisper, playing with the baby hairs around his forehead. Austin grins and pulls you closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "It's you I'm marrying, it's already perfect." His hands squeez your hips and you sigh, inhaling the smell of him. "I know, I can't believe it's happening!" You admit absentmindedly, drawing circles with the tip of your finger on his shoulder. Austin sighs and kisses your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin, leaving goosebumps down your spine. "Me neither." He admits, laying back on the pillow, with you on top of him, head resting on his heart. You enjoy the soft beat of it, as your cheek absorbs the heat of his skin. "I cried yesterday, in the shower." You tell him and he tenses underneath you. One of his hands moving from your waist to your chin, forcing you to look as him, his blue eyes wonder over your face, looking over every freckle, curve and shadow. "Why?"

Austin is a bit scared to ask, he fears you might get cold feet and put an end to all of this, which to be fair he wouldn't mind, he loved you ten years without you being he wife, he'd love you a thousand more just the same. "I'm scared, I - my parents made it sound like marriage ruined them. I don't want it to ruin us." Tears prickle your eyes as you speak, and his thumb caresses you cheek catching a falling tear. "It won't, we are not them, we love each other too much. Y/n I want you to marry me because I can't see a life without you, but I want you to know, if you even feel like this isn't what you want, I'll love you just as much for as long as I live." Austin confesses and you can't even find a speckle of doubt that he means every syllable spoken. "I want it, I want to have your name, I want to be your wife, I'm just defrosting my girlhood heart, cause I used to love weddings." You tell him, pulling closer to his face and connecting your lips to his soft ones, time standing still, as your bodies stay intertwined. "I know baby, take your time!" Austin says rubbing you back and you hide your face in the crook of his neck, yawning, which makes him chuckle. "Sleep mrs Butler, I'm home now!" Austin lulls you, pulling the duvet over the both of you, as you fall asleep on his chest, snoring softly.

"Have you written your vows?" You ask halfway asleep, which makes Austin laugh, knowing that no matter how tired you are you'll always make sure to have everything checked for the day, before letting your mind disconnect. "Oh my Virgo baby, ever so organized. I have!" He tells you in a low voice, barely above a whisper, hoping you'll finally let yourself sleep. "Hmm, can I hear them?" You ask, blabbering, Austin grins knowing your having the fight of your life to stay awake right now. "Yes, in a month on august 13th." You groan and wrap your arms around his neck, falling asleep without another word, and Austin does the same as he massages your back, the soft brush of your breath against his neck and the comforting weight of you on him, being his favorite sleep medicine.

Tag list:

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #austin butler imagine #austin butler love #austin x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin fanfic #austin butler instagram #austin butler fluff #snow on the beach #the delicate beginning rush instagram

[hiimerick]

Guys what if we make rp blogs and make a rp community

Like we make side blogs and play along in a fantasy world where rules of reality don't comply

We could play as fantasy races or aliens or humans or even some animals if we wanna

I can host and take the responsibility of telling newcomers what's going on

This could be a possibility to make fanart and good friends on the internet

Like we could set up a custom currency and make models or drawings of custom items, and others could buy them and then draw their rp characters with them

Like a multiple way story between artists that let's characters progress in a natural way

We will just need to keep our lore and story written somewhere to not forget stuff

If ya want to join me in this you could send a message over or reply or reblog i will try to keep things in order in a way and will make a list of participants

I guess i could be like a main host or something like that like a dm in dnd or a author of a story

Gonna tag some people who might find interest in starting this new idea

@clownpalette @your-happy-fella @the-monsters-in-1870 @rogdona @puffpastrycrimewatch @joofie404 @mistysparks @kasperplaneteclipse @tootditoot @sharkyy599 @noobette-little-box @kindercelery @gunk404 @drunkbeefstudio @senpa10 @plasmabull

And others that I didn't tag

Also guys if you want some other people to join and they also want to do so tag them in someway and say to tell me about their participation

[rukafais]

a solitary, singular thread

A piece of writing I've been kinda turning over for a while now. While I might expand on it or I might not, I like it as is, so the tag might as well have it.

SPOILERS FOR LOLTH'S WARRIOR

The endless song of the Astral Sea, the hivemind, the universe, is welcoming, overwhelming, tide and sky and space and stars spinning, spinning, spinning. You as a mote, a neuron, a bright-flickering conglomerate of thought, a nascent star rising to its constellation.

Still there is a thread that draws you back. 

Still there is a thread that stitches you into the well worn aching patterns of the material plane.

Still there is a thread that keeps you -- whole.

Still you cling to it.

Thus I am bound.

I do not abandon you...

Never that.

It has been a lifetime since you spoke those words to describe your place in the world as you saw it. You have passed to a place where in theory you should remember them only as one brief flickering note of knowledge among an endless library of it. A single book in an archive. A single star in its sky. In its rightful place, as all things are within the hivemind, but infinitesimal.

In practice, you remember only yourself. The words bind you to the shape of your soul, to the body you once were; the desires of the mind overwrote the limitations of the body and yet, and yet, your form in thought is a perfect copy of the form you have shed, have lost.

The singular form you considered lonely, once. That you considered lonely, for a long time.

You are not lonely now. Everything you yearned for in your solitude is here. You are here. A drop in the ocean, one mind among many, complete, whole, belonging.

(I remember the waves on the shore, the city so far north that the water ran cold - runs cold - in the height of summer. The city that he loves. The city that I fought for despite the odds. The cry of the seabirds, the salt water's chill, the bitter rasping touch of what they called Auril's breath. The winds that blew down from the mountains.

I remember these things still.

I remember what they mean to me -  I often complained, never fond of the cold weather.

I remember what they mean to him.

I remember that he laughed at me then...)

You are not lonely, not here - how can you be? but the thread binds you still. It knots around your nonexistent ribs, spine, throat, lungs, drawn out in the spinning-wheel depths of the heart you no longer need and yet still have. It is sewn into the very fabric of you, as if you were fabric yourself, a pattern that you did not make but in the absence of its giver recreate it yourself.

(I was not a weaver or a clothier or even particularly fond of clothes and all their tedious maintenance. I wore clothing, wore out my clothing, in a way that he often despaired of. He was, is, a great lover of them. He spends hours in front of a mirror when he can get away with it. I remember those long days, those long nights, in which I did the paperwork that so plagued him and he kept his hands busy.

He sewed, embroidered, furnished clothing for this person or that, endearing in his focus and in his strange, frustrating care.

No person of his acquaintance would come away underdressed.

It was a token of his love.)

The thread has existed for as long as you have been here, this star, this free-flying thought. A binding, a restriction, a cord to be cut. But you cannot bring yourself to, for all it weighs you down and tethers you to a place far away from this brilliant sky.

There is something

(someone)

on the other side

(that I left)

that you need.

#togetherslapping words #legend of drizzt #spoilers #kimmuriel oblodra #really though this is major spoilers for the most recent book as of posting you have been warned

[geraldmariaivo]

Another one of these

Damian’s new classmate is odd, though not nearly as unpleasant to be around as everyone else at the school.

He doesn’t seem to be from wealthy family, but he also seems mostly unconcerned with the punishments doled out by the school for “getting into fights with his peers,” unlike many of the students in on academic programs. He thinks himself stupid, but Damian would be worried about having him as a rogue from the things he’s seen the boy tinkering with if he didn’t know that Fenton had his heart set on NASA. He’s clumsy, but it seems to be out of habit rather than any true issues with balance and spatial awareness. He filled in Damian’s gaps in knowledge concerning social structures and how to operate within them, with only minimal prompting. Whenever Damian forgot a word or figure of speech in English, and used the equivalent in a different language, Fenton always understood.

He has a dog that he has yet to let meet, but claims that “Cujo isn’t really my dog, he just hangs around.”

He is clearly metahuman. If the abnormal body temperature, changing eye color, and ability to avoid Damian so consistently weren’t enough evidence, then the fact that his presence made Damian so at ease, made him feel safe, energized, and reassured of his own competence in some strange way the not even his father or Richard could, was the nail in the coffin.

Naturally, Damian sought out his company during lunch and group projects.

It was only logical to evaluate Fenton so as to make sure he knew what to expect should the boy be controlled either by extortion or by any of the rogues’ mind control methods. It was only a beneficial side effect that doing so made Damian feel safer, made his thoughts of inadequacy quiet down, and made it easier to rest without a weapon. It also helped that Fenton didn’t question things like most of his family did. His peer didn’t ask why he needed a nap after a 3-day weekend with no homework. He didn’t ask why Damian was out “sick” so often. He simply handed Damian a sleeping mask to make it easier to rest, even if he didn’t fall asleep. He gave Damian a guide to the shorthand he used for class notes, and filled him in on what he missed whenever he came home from being “ill.” He offered smuggled-in over the counter medications during study sessions freely, and with no question as to why Damian favored his right leg for the next week or so.

Damian saw Fenton during patrol once, when he and Batman had gotten to the crime scene after Fenton had broken the ribs of one of the robbers.

Damian would even go so far as to call Fenton his peer in his civilian life, though he would appreciate it if the rest of his siblings would stop teasing him about his “new friend,” and asking him “when are you going to invite your friend over?”

As tempting as it was to stab them into stopping it, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Alfred’s disappointed stare.

This fondness for Fenton was the only reason he didn’t immediately hold a knife to the boy’s throat when it was clear that he knew about what had happened.

“What had happened” being Damian falling through his chair, and partway into the ground with no warning.

That, and Fenton’s response of “Damn, this is the first time I’ve seen you fall through something all year. What made you finally slip up? Family issues? Death day coming up?”

#It’s one of these again #I might need a tag for these if i keep doing them #DPxDC #damian wayne #danny fenton #halfa!Damian

[pepperpixel]

“Can't remember when we walked past the O.R. sign!

(sur-ger-y!)

Can't remember passing out with her hand in mine!

(my-my-mind!!!!)

I remember waking up with my mind repaired.

(A-OK! ^^)

I remember when I realized, she wasn't there...”

Amnesia was her name….. is. so. horrifically. sadly fitting for these two in literally every single line. And I’m gonna NEED ALL OF U GUYS TO GO LISTEN TO IT NOW OK… THIS ISNT A DRILL GO GO GO GO!!!

Anyway… uhh. the fact Betty “blessed” this guy to like. An eternally long lifespan w THIS FUCKED UP OF A MENTAL STATE IS SO SCREWED UP GHGH- Like poor Simon god damn…! u kno he’d rather just keep on not sorting out his baggage and trauma forever too cuz it’d be too complicated… too much… force him to admit things about himself and about BETTY that he really really doesn’t want to… better to just leave it all unexamined.. pack it all into lil boxes so he can just try to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist… HE GOTTA LIVE FOREVER W IT THO… *ME BANGING ON SIMONS DOOR AT 3 IN THE MORNING*: “SIMON U GOTTA ACCEPT URSELF!!!! LOVE URSELF!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE N ACCEPT EVEN THE “BAD” PARTS OF URSELF!!!! SIMON PLEASE!!!!! SIMON EVEN PPL WHO LOVE YOU AND WHO YOU LOVE CAN HURT YOU!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE IT!!! ACKNOWLEDGE THE HURT AND ACKNOWLEDGE UR FEELINGS!!!! AND URSELF!!!!! SIMON!!!!” anyway… gGHGH YEA, SRRY. SIMON PETRIKOVS MENTAL ILLNESSES MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM GONNA EXPLODE. ANYWAY HAVE SOME ART. W a bunch of diff versions cuz I’m indecisive!

#adventure time #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #doodles #lol at tagging this petrigroff but nah I stand by it man!!!! #being a petrigroff shipper is understanding that I’m actually canon these two need som fuckin COUPLES COUNSELING. OR TO JUST BREAKUP. #like….. gGHG I LOVE BETTY BUT ALSO. ALSO… also…. these 2 have some issues… seperate and together issues. lmao #ANYWAY THO. ANYWAY THO. IM SO FUCKING EXCITED. I SAW THE NEW TRAILER. IM GONNA DIE. MY WIFE I GOT TO SEE MY WIFE #AND WERE ACTUSLLY GONNA GET SIMON MENTAL STATE SHIT YEAHHHHH!!!! #HELL FUCKING YEAH!!!!!!!!! #FIONNA AND CAKE DO NOT LET THIS NERD KEEP RUNNING AWAY FROM HIS FEELINGS FUCKING GET HIS ASS!!! MAKE HIM FACE IT AND WORK THRU IT!!! #pls!!!! if even Simon Petrikovs can start working thru his mental traumas there might be hope for all of us ghghg #uh but anyway yeah. AMBESIA IS HER NAME IS SO THEM.. STRAIGHT UP I FELT THE URGE TO EVEN LIKE. make an animatic for it!! it was so fitting! #im not gonna make an animatic cuz I don’t feel like it but!!! I saw it… I saw the animatic in my brain ghghg- #there’s a lot of typos in these tags but. just do me a favor… and pretend like there aren’t lol #fionna and cake #am I…. possibly…. projecting more mental trauma and issues on Simon. then he ACTUALLY has… #probably. yes. but!!!! he def still DOES have issues. I feel like I’m probably exaggerating the Betty ones cuz he #never really outright expresses feeling hurt by her. but also I feel like!!!! he’s the sorta guy!!! WHO WOULDNT EXPRESS THAT! #cuz he loves her!!!!! sO MUCH!! and she did so much and pushed herself so far and was trying so hard… and also she’s fucking basically d #dead now!!!! it’d be like. disrespectful of her memory…. to feel that. also what’s even the point of expressing that pain she’s gone!!!!! #she did all of that.. for him… how could he…. just. spit in the face of that #im writing those last few tags in the he perspective of simons mind btw… the things he tells himself…. #anyway gGHG MAYBE I AM PROBABLY PROJECTING MORE ISSUES ON HIM THEN HE ACTUALLY HAS BUT WHO CARES MAN #I’m allowed ghghgh- #I wanna draw art of Simon having a traumatic flashback to the ‘Dont worry ull be obliterated soon!’ line and hating himself for it #ice king isn’t him!!! it isn’t him! it’s not him!!! why does that hurt it shouldn’t hurt she wasn’t talking to HIM #BUT SHE WAS #SHE WAS… she didn’t think of the ice king as Simon but he IS… HE IS AND JUST. URGHGH

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

So… An update…

(We’re watching episode 36 next, can’t recommend Toqger enough)

#toqger #ressha sentai toqger #super sentai #Toqger spoilers #I GUESS #I MIGHT DO SOME ART LATER TO PROCESS SOME EMOTIONS BUT I’LL TRY AND KEEP IT VAGUE AND TAG IT IF ANYONE’S CONCERNED #i am fundamentally changed as a person #akira… akira my guy… i need a favor #i need you to take some hits my guy…. #like… ALL the hits #proud of the kyoryugers they read the FUCKING ASSIGNMENT #I DONT KNOW THEM BUT GOOD JOB TEAM #CHILLING #WHAT A SHOW #CANT RECOMMEND IT ENOUGH #such a range of emotions tonight my adrenaline is so high #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #things are so different now #hey tokusatsu fandom… gather round… need you to hold my habd for a second lol!! #thanks gang akcjs kg ks