#[ i like the thought of him meticulously grooming!!!!!!!!

[staarriezz]

New Follower~!

Welcome 🤗

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May I request

Albedo in NSFW Alphabet?

YIPEE thank you for the follow!! i appreciate it very very much <3

albedo nsfw alphabet

pairing: albedo x reader

genre: smut, headcanons

warnings: nsfw! 18+!! minors dni

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

albedo is VERY meticulous when it comes to aftercare, treating it like an essential part of the experience. he ensures his sweetheart is comfortable, cleans you up with gentle hands, and quietly observes your reactions to make sure you’re okay. if you’re worn out, he'll pull you into his arms and run his fingers through your hair as you fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself, he values his hands— they are precise, capable of both destruction and creation, and he enjoys using them to make his partner come undone. on his lover, he's particularly fond of your neck and collarbones, often tracing them absentmindedly, fascinated by how your body reacts to his touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he enjoys seeing the aftermath of his efforts— it's like proof of a successful experiment. but he’s also a very clean and precise man. when he cums, it’s usually kept on your stomach, back, or simply onto a towel. he wouldn’t dare cum inside his partner— he feels it’s too dirty. especially if you’re a woman— children aren’t a commitment he’s willing to make.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

despite his usual composed demeanor, albedo has a deeply curious nature, which extends to intimacy. he’s considered sketching you in moments of vulnerability— purely for scientific purposes, of course. the idea of capturing your raw emotions and reactions on paper is an irresistible temptation. additionally, due to him being a scientist and all… he’s open to trying a lot of new things out.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

albedo is incredibly intelligent and a very fast learner, meaning even if he wasn't highly experienced at first, he quickly becomes proficient. he approaches intimacy much like an experiment— observing, analyzing, and adapting until he knows exactly how to unravel you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he enjoys positions where he can maintain eye contact and study every little reaction— whether it's you beneath him in missionary, or in his lap riding him, he’s all for it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

albedo tends to be more serious, but not in a harsh way— rather, he's focused and thoughtful. however, he does have a dry sense of humor, and occasionally, he'll make a quiet, teasing remark just to see your reaction.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

neat and well-groomed, much like the rest of him. he tends to keep it trimmed and clean to the best of his abilities, though if he’s up in dragonspine, completely engrossed in an experiment for a period of time, shaving might slip his mind.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he may not be the most openly affectionate person, but when it comes to intimacy, his touch is incredibly tender. albedo sees intimacy as an almost sacred form of connection— one that goes far beyond words. he memorizes every detail, every sound, every shiver, as if trying to preserve the moment forever.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

albedo doesn't prioritize his own needs often, as he's almost always engrossed in his research. however, when his mind does wander to you, he indulges occasionally, almost experimentally, using it as a way to process his feelings.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

control and precision— albedo enjoys knowing exactly how to push you to your limits, whether through teasing or experimentation. he also has a bit of a praise kink; hearing you admire his skills or beg for more stirs something deep within him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his research lab is sacred to him, so he wouldn't compromise it for something indecent. he prefers to keep things private in the quiet intimacy of one of your bedrooms. however, the idea of doing something risky in dragonspine, where the cold air contrasts with the heat between you, is something he's quietly entertained.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

intimacy for albedo is deeply tied to connection and intrigue. seeing you flustered, hearing you say his name in a way you wouldn't in public, or even just having you cling to him after a long day is enough to spark something in him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that puts you in discomfort or pain. he may be an experimenter, but he values your well-being above all else. if he senses even a hint of distress, he will stop immediately.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

a perfectionist by nature, albedo ensures that every aspect of intimacy is executed with skill and precision. he is patient, meticulous, and completely focused on your reactions, treating it as both an art and a science. he prefers giving over receiving, mostly because he always puts your needs before his. and besides— your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s definitely came untouched at least once just from going down on his sweetheart.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

albedo adjusts based on the situation— slow, sensual and calculated when he wants to prolong the moment, and faster and more intense when his patience wears thin. either, he's incredibly controlled, ensuring that every movement is intentional.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickies don't appeal to him as much— he prefers to take his time and explore every reaction. however, if circumstances demand it (such as in a rare moment of stolen privacy), he will make it efficient and effective.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

albedo is methodical and thoughtful, meaning he won't take unnecessary risks. however, if you propose something new, he will consider it like an experiment— analyzing the risks and rewards before deciding if he wants to proceed.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

his endurance is impressive— probably a side effect of his artificial nature. While he's not one to rush, he has the ability to go multiple rounds if the situation calls for it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

albedo doesn't rely on them, but if introduced, he would be intrigued rather than intimidated. he’d see them as tools for enhancing the experience, and if you let him, he'd take great pleasure in testing their effects on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

albedo can be VERY unfair, even without trying. his patience extends to teasing— drawing things out, keeping you on edge until you're practically begging. he finds pleasure in your reactions, in seeing how much you can handle before you break.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

soft-spoken even in intimacy. albedo isn't particularly loud, but he does let out the occasional breathy sigh or low hum. his words, however, are what truly get to you— low, whispered praises that leave you shivering.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

when deeply immersed in his research, albedo has a habit of talking to himself. that extends to intimacy as well. sometimes he murmurs absent observations, almost as if he's studying your reactions in real-time. it can be both endearing and incredibly flustering.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

albedo’s probably 6 1/2 inches, 7 if he’s really turned on. he’s the perfect size, not big enough to hurt (unless he’s going really hard), but just right to where he rubs you in all the right places. he’s also probably got one of the prettiest dicks.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he isn't one to be driven solely by desire, but when it comes to you, his self-control is occasionally tested. his need for intimacy isn't just physical— it's about the quiet, unspoken connection between you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

albedo doesn't sleep easily, as his mind is always racing with new theories and experiments. however, if he's truly worn out, he finds comfort in having you close— your warmth lulling him into rare, peaceful rest.

[strongfuck]

rhys when he forgets to shave

[fairyofshampgyu]

just curious.. wdy think about hybrid txt?

You know I used to lowkey judge hybrid aus icl…but then I read some really good fics and I was like ywk, I fw this

☆ SUB HYBRID TXT THOUGHTS ! 🐾

Yeonjun:

Fox or cat hybrid !! You know those like really expensive breeds of cats that just look super expensive and elegant, I feel like he’d look exactly like one of those. Prides himself in looking pretty and rich and takes good care of himself and grooms himself, loves being pampered, hybrid jjunnie thrives on your attention, practically demanding it, and won’t hesitate to shove his head into your hands or stretch luxuriously across your lap when he feels ignored. Makes you buy expensive treats, meticulously chosen outfits, and prettiest collars, has a collection of them like pink satin ribbons, glittering jewels, and delicate little charms that dangle off the buckle all designed to highlight how undeniably pretty he is. Also has a really pretty tail that sways just so elegantly idk how to explain 😭 SPOILT BRAT !! He’s such a brat and always pouting with those pretty pouty lips of his omg but dw you just have to put him in place bc he breaks so easily anyway, just tugging on his collar roughly and pinning him down is enough to make him shut up and gasp, letting you do whatever you want to him, he’s so whiny !! Like the whiniest loudest ever especially if he’s a fox hybrid bc foxes are so whiney . Also I swear he has some sort of collar pulling kink, loves being pulled by his pretty collars, also loves dolling himself up so you can fuck him like that

Soobin:

Ofc he’s a bunny hybrid !! So shy at first, adorably bashful, his long ears twitching nervously every time you tease him, bunny soobin just the most fun to tease, tugging on his fluffy bunny tail or running your fingers over his trembling thighs always makes him squirm, cheeks flushed a pink as he stammers and shyly avoids your gaze but none of that can hide just how much of a dirty bunny he truly is, he’s literally horny all the time, begs you to let him fuck you literally all the time and when he’s in heat he’s 10x worse like lowkey you have to keep him fucked every second 😭 but it’s also extremely fun and entertaining to mess with him during these times bc he’ll straight up start sobbing if you don’t let him cum or let him inside you, full on tears streaming and hiccuping and lips wobbling devastatingly for you to let him cum inside 😭 and when you finally do the dumb bunny is literally drooling on you, cross eyed, countless thank you’s coming out his still wobbly lips and just garbled moans, fluffy bunny tail twitching and bunny ears flopped also thinking about soobin with a bunny tail is just so so cute 😭

Beomgyu:

Puppy hybrid gyu but also bear gyu is not appreciated enough on here im sick I need more bear gyu as well !! And this maybe controversial but…brown kitty gyu !! Come on you have to see it !! Bear gyu who is just always sleeping and so sleepy, loves cuddling and cuddles you 24/7 but he gives the best bear hugs and cuddles, literally so warm and comforting. Okay and somnophilia w bear gyu…bc he’s so into it…loves to wake up with you sucking him off, swirling your tongue around his cute tip and the dribbles of precum, bobbing your mouth up and down his dick, he’ll softly whine and whimper low and breathy, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut, long lashes fluttering and he’ll bring his hand to yours to hold and squeeze holding your hand tightly, arm thrown over his face, cutely groaning and mumbling incoherent half asleep little pleas, body twitching under your touch. Soft, sleepy, cuddly sex happens a lot w bear gyu too >_< but puppy gyu would be the cutest too, tail wagging when you touch him and fuck him bc he’s just so happy and excited, dumbly drooling, tongue lolling out and panting like the puppy he is and so needy and reactive, puppy gyu cums so easily. And just imagine those big brown round watery puppy eyes looking up at you when he eats you out, tongue working eagerly, just waiting for you too call him a good pup. But he also knows he can quite literally get away with anything and his punishments if he just looks at you with his sorrowful puppy eyes, sulking and pouting dramatically, puppy ears flattening so don’t be fooled ! As cute as puppy gyu is, he’s also evil and such a menace and can be such a brat !! Okay but also imagine coming home to puppy gyu at the door on his knees, teary eyes and panting flushed, paws to his chest and dick all hard and leaky and flushed too, head tilted to the side and whining saying he missed you sm and he was trying to be a good boy and not touch himself and wait for you okay I actually need to shut up bc I kinda love hybrid gyu I feel like people need to send me more thoughts of their own in my inbox pls pls !!

Taehyun:

Kitty tyun !! He’s like those cool, indifferent collected unaffectionate cats and it takes him a long time to warm up to you at first and he barely speaks, always leaving the house and wandering off somewhere god knows and coming back later 😭 but like one time he comes into your lap and rests his head there and cuddles into you and you’re like screaming for joy nearly crying bc you’ve been waiting for this the whole time !! He’s super cute but he thinks he’s such a tough cat loll 😭 he likes rubbing his head against you and it’s soo cute. PURRING !!! HE PURRSS SMM !! Very possessive and just makes sure he rubs himself against you and the furniture and house so it smells like him, marking everything still silently brings random dead birds for you but it’s his way of showing his love lol. Gives you lots of silent gifts tbh. You gave him money to hang out with his other hybrid friends and he returned back spending all that money on some jewellery to give to you instead lmfao, handing the gift in your hand wordlessly but turning his face the other way to not look at you at all but his face is all red and his tail is swishing back and forth furiously behind him. KITTY TYUN TRIES TO BE A TSUNDERE SO HARD BUT HES SO CUTE !! Thinks he can fuck you too and be the one in control but one stroke of his cock and he’s purring into you, burying his head in your neck and whining embarrassedly, tries to silence his kitty whines and moans but he’s soo loud, mewling and purring uncontrollably. I need more of subby kitty tyun tbh

Huening kai:

He’s literally such a golden retriever and no one can tell me otherwise !! Golden retriever kaii >_< so cute !! He’s so big and fluffy and he gets so happy when you come home, jumping into your arms but kai still doesn’t realise he’s so big and he’s knocking you over but he doesn’t care, licking and kissing at you. He’s also literally the most fucking perverted out of them all. Golden retriever kai is suchhh a nasty secret perv. Whenever you’re gone, he’s humping your pillows desperately and rutting wildly into them, panting and crying out your name pathetically. He’ll fuck your plushies and toys on your bed too >_< and he’s just always cumming and touching himself to the thought of you, taking a quick little sneak peak when you’re changing your clothes so he can have the imagine engrained in his mind and jerk off to it later at night. STEALS YOUR PANTIES TOO omfg he’s so nasty and you think he’s just your cute little innocent golden retriever. Sleeps and cuddles you in your bed sometimes and he’s ofc the big spoon but then in your sleep, you move a little and your ass ends up rubbing against his cock and he gasps and let’s out a little groan and he gets so hard he just keeps erratically rutting and humping against your ass, cumming in his pants with a hand slapped to his mouth. Does he even feel bad ? No not really … He just wants to fuck you fr, wondering how your pussy would really feel like all the time. Btw golden retriever ! kai has a huuugee dick too like it’s so fat and thick and big no wonder he’s always so horny and such a perv all the time.

[poptheweasel]

Turkish Delight

——————————————

Cory quickly realised he’d made a mistake.

He just couldn’t help it. Cory was enjoying an evening coffee at one of those small classic neighbourhood coffeehouses in Istanbul, the kind frequented mostly by aged locals, not young tourists like him. He felt and looked out of place, sure, but it was fine. Sitting at a far corner of the cosy establishment, no one bothered him and he bothered no one. It took him a little while, but Cory was just starting to feel at ease.

And then he entered. Clearly a regular, judging by the way he swaggered in and interacted with the owner and other customers. But he stood out among the others in that he wasn’t old like the rest of them; in fact, he and Cory seemed to be the only men under 40. He sat at a table at the other end of the place, placing him on Cory’s line of sight.

Cory was immediately captivated by this stranger, not fully understanding why. Maybe it was because the guy contrasted so strongly with himself. Not that Cory wasn’t attractive — of course he was — but something about the man transfixed him. “Fuck, he’s hot,” Cory thought. Maybe it was the gleaming light brown eyes to Cory’s own icy blue, or the meticulously-groomed heavy stubble the guy sported that accentuated his sharp jawline; maybe it was his athletic physique, his well-defined body betrayed by a shirt that was clearly a size too small, or maybe it was how hairy he was, the dark hair very conspicuously thickly covering his sturdy legs and arms offering a stark contrast to Cory’s blond hairs barely visible from a distance… Whatever the case, Cory just couldn’t take his eyes off that Turkish guy. He wanted him, to feel him, to taste him, and imagined all sorts of scenarios.

That’s when Cory realised: he was shamelessly ogling the man. Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the hairy hunk staring right back at him, completely emotionless. Shit. Flushed and embarrassed, Cory hurriedly paid for his coffee and left, all the while the man continuously and intently observed his every move. Just as he exited, the guy whom he mentally violated also got up to follow him.

His cheeks still ruddy and warm from the unfortunate encounter a while ago, Cory briskly made his way through the labyrinthine streets of the hilly city, desperate to return to his accommodation. The Turkish guy wasn’t too far behind him; Cory meanwhile sensed he was being pursued so he quickened his pace. In an attempt to throw him off the trail, Cory turned a corner into a quiet narrow alleyway flanked by an empty lot and vacant buildings.

Right then, a deep voice called out from behind Cory.

“Hey, you.”

Cory froze, his face drained of the redness. He stood in silence, not knowing whether to respond or run away. He was terrified and felt faint. Only the fresh cool evening maritime breeze kept him on his wobbly knees as he shuddered, half because of the chill, half because he feared what would happen next. Ultimately, after a tense while which felt like an eternity, Cory turned around to see the man approaching him. Although Cory still was scared, he weirdly felt an emergent sense of excitement as well.

Soon, Cory stood facing the Turk. A dimly-lit streetlight was the only source of illumination through which Cory could better appreciate the figure before him. He noticed how the guy was even more hirsute than he realised, with chest hair spilling over his too-tight shirt. Cory’s cock twitched.

“I saw you look earlier,” the guy drily said, maintaining intense eye contact with Cory.

“Ye… No! I mean, yeah, I was…” Cory stammered sheepishly. Fuck, why was he getting turned on all of a sudden?

“Like what you see?”

Cory gulped and nodded. His knees were about to give in when the hunk suddenly grabbed Cory by the shoulders with his hairy meaty hands and yanked him close to give him a forceful yet passionate sloppy kiss. Cory was taken aback and screamed internally, but at the same time, he liked what was happening. Wasn’t this what he wanted in the first place? He didn’t resist the surprising advances; he simply couldn’t resist. He reciprocated, their tongues roaming each other’s mouths. As the Turk continued to shove his tongue in him, Cory felt like putty — he’d let the guy do anything to him, he’d be happy to be used by this gorgeous hairy man in whatever way.

The man’s stubble scratched and tickled Cory’s soft skin around his lips moistened by the wet kisses. Cory felt strong itching sensations in the same area. He normally kept himself clean-shaven, mainly because he could only manage to grow some wispy hairs on his face. As the Turkish guy momentarily pulled away from the kiss though, the area around Cory’s mouth was substantially darker than it was just a minute ago, the beard growth process being accelerated. Cory ignored the itch and continued making out.

After a while of spit-heavy lip-locking, the Turk pulled down his shorts and grabbed Cory by the shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. Cory, at eye level with the guy’s cut 8-inch cock, was completely mesmerised by the sight and especially the scent; the pubes were so dense, they trapped and collected all the musky sweat and oozing precum. The smell was rather pungent but Cory didn’t mind at all. If anything, the odour had a simultaneously captivating and relaxing effect on him and he felt compelled to inhale it more.

Cory piggishly sniffed the ridiculously hairy crotch, even licking the beads of moisture off individual strands of pubes. While doing so, the hair on his temple grazed the guy’s leaking member, some of the precum sticking onto his blond hair. His hair absorbed the pre almost instantly and began to darken, the change in colour spreading from where the precum had been smeared. The hair on Cory’s scalp lost its sandy hue but retained its sheen, turning browner and darker as the pigmentation spread from the roots to the tips. His face still buried in the thick pubes, Cory felt the man jerk himself, squeezing out more pre from his throbbing cock. “Suck,” he commanded. Cory swiftly obliged.

Cory was dazed; the public setting, the man’s body and scent, his own eagerness… all that was happening was wilder than anything he’d ever dreamt of. After admiring the juicy rod bobbing up and down in front of him, Cory closed his eyes and got to work, savouring the taste of the musky cock with a faint taste of piss. He took the whole length in his mouth and down his throat, blowing to the best of his abilities. He eagerly lapped up the copious amounts of pre from the Turk’s slick pulsating member, coating his tongue.

The more he sucked and swallowed, the more hairs grew on his face. The itch intensified above and below Cory’s lips, little needle-like black hairs pushing out from his smooth skin and multiplying below his nose and on his chin. The beginnings of a luscious beard then steadily migrated outwards, short pointed hairs breaking out all over Cory’s cheeks and linking with his tapered sideburns. By now, Cory had grown a remarkable designer stubble which grew in thicker by the minute and slowly crept down his chin. At the same time, his face took on a slight tan, darkening independently of the hair growth that took over the whole lower half of his face. Cory’s jaw looked more rugged too, becoming more square and masculine.

Cory carried on blowing his new acquaintance, completely oblivious to the changes affecting him. “You like?” asked the man. “Mmhrrrgggmm,” Cory could only nod and let out a gurgled hum of approval to affirm. The Turkish guy then forcefully rammed his cock down Cory’s throat, making him gag. Just as he did, Cory’s Adam’s apple jutted out more prominently. He opened his wet eyes to look up at the hunk; as he blinked away the tears, his blue eyes lost their iciness as the colour shifted from a cold blue to a warmer mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold. With his new hazel eyes, Cory saw the guy with a smirk on his face for the first time.

Cory’s body continued to change. He felt bulkier, the clothes he wore starting to strain against the muscles growing on his formerly slim frame. He also felt so much warmer despite the breeze; he felt heat radiating all throughout his body from the pit of his stomach and was sweating profusely as a result. He also felt his whole body itching uncomfortably by now. Watching the Turk strip and bare his gloriously hairy body, Cory did the same — he certainly wasn’t as hairy as the guy. Yet. The hair growing on Cory’s face continued to travel down, prickly hairs sprouting on his neck, past his collarbones and on his chest. Cory initially only had a faint patch of barely-visible hair right at the centre of his chest, but as the hairs darkened and thickened, they fanned out towards his pits, forming whirling patterns around his nipples and covering his whole chest with stubbly black hair, like a freshly-mowed lawn. The prickly sensation migrated south to his midriff, a trail of nascent coarse hairs sprouting from his chest down to his navel and then his crotch. From there, the newly-formed treasure trail widened and began to spread outwards in all directions, hairs multiplying rapidly until Cory’s whole torso was blanketed in a field of short hair which connected his stubble and still-sparse pubes.

After a few minutes of Cory sucking, slurping and gagging on the fat Turkish cock, the guy made him stop. Cory reluctantly agreed. The guy then grabbed Cory by his wavy, shiny black hair and got him up back on his feet. Cory was in a state of utter bliss, drunk on pre and musk, drooling uncontrollably. The Turk lifted his arm, exposing his smelly pit completely covered in tangled wiry hairs. The dark hairs were so incredibly dense and tightly-spaced that Cory thought he was staring into the void. “Sniff and lick,” he told Cory. Who was Cory to say no? He stumbled forward, faceplanting right in the sweaty jungle of pit hairs. The pit musk was surely at least ten times as potent as the musk from crotch! The pungent scent was overwhelming; it burned Cory’s nostrils, and yet his cock throbbed even harder, dripping pre all over. What would have been torture felt more like heaven to Cory. He grunted as he took a deep whiff of the rank musk and licked the matted hairy mess soaking wet with sweat. It was absolutely acrid, and the sharp sourness also scalded his throat, making him cough. Cory was immobilised though, his head held in place in the Turk’s reeking hirsute pit; he let out muffled moans, struggling to breathe. Inhaling the musk and gulping down obscene quantities of rancid sweat accelerated Cory’s changes.

Cory’s body ached all over as he increased in size, growing a few inches and gaining muscle mass. His muscles pulsated and expanded; it really looked as if someone was blowing air into him. His chicken legs inflated to become sturdy trunks, with hard thighs and bulging calves. His arms too grew larger, the veins protruding, his forearms thickening along with his biceps and triceps which doubled in size. Cory’s shoulders and chest broadened, providing him with a more robust, rugged physique. His abs also became prominent, the tight muscles emerging with several popping sounds. Cory was granted a temporary reprieve from piggishly eating out the Turk’s pit, leaving him to gasp for fresh air. The guy then tugged sharply on Cory’s nipples, making him let out a simultaneous yelp and low moan. As if some mechanism had been activated, Cory’s pecs ballooned and jutted out forward, his nipples looking thicker, longer and juicier than the goose-pimple ones he had before. Along with his pecs, his ass also expanded; what was once fairly flat and sad-looking was now globular, the firm cheeks jiggling with every move.

Cory’s puppeteer shoved Cory back into his other, equally hairy and musky pit. With his face buried in the nasty armpit, Cory panted and grunted as the intoxicating scent continued to work its magic. Cory’s brows became wider and bushier. The stubble on his face grew darker and thicker, the hairs coarsening and lengthening as well as multiplying in greater numbers. Starting from under his nose, more hairs poked out to give him a moustache which covered his whole upper lip. The hairs on his chin grew out in all directions, growing unruly and tangling up as Cory rubbed his face in the Turk’s manly pit. His cheeks underwent the same treatment, thick beard hairs pushing out from the follicles and cascading down, following Cory’s rugged jawline and covering the entire area of his face below his nose, the new bushy growth connecting with the moustache and the hairs below his lips. The growth continued to give Cory an incredibly thick medium-length beard that he’d only ever dreamt of having, now coated with a layer of musky sweat and Cory’s own saliva owing to his ravenous worshipping of the Turkish man’s pits. The man held Cory firmly in place, as if to cure the scent onto him.

This second explosion of hair travelled down Cory’s heaving body. Where the first wave of hair growth resulted in hairs which looked trimmed, the wiry, curly growth this time gave him a natural look, the hirsuteness of a man who had never shaved in his life, possibly unable to, due to how densely and much the hair grew. Coarse hairs burrowed their way out of Cory’s shoulders, leaving a forest of curly fur surrounding his neck, and flowed down his swollen upper arms and to his forearms, forming whirls and wave-like patterns, the wild, dense growth of black hair obscuring the view of the skin underneath — his arms looked as if they were wrapped in steel wool. Cory’s hands cracked and popped as they grew meatier and burlier, his fingers rough and calloused and speckled with thick hairs, giving him an almost beastly appearance.

The rapid growth of hair continued unabated, Cory feeling an intense itch under his arms. Soon, dark pinpricks appeared in his shaven pits, increasing exponentially. From those black dots, long wiry hairs shot out, growing thicker and longer, seemingly watered and fed by the sweat that had accumulated in his pits all this time. Radiating from the centre of the pits, the hairs blanketed a larger area, connecting with the hairs on Cory’s chest. Much like the Turk’s pits, Cory’s pit hair grew unwieldy and matted, the strands twisted and twirled from both the growth and the dampness. The moisture trapped under the massive tufts of pit hair emanated a smell. Indeed, accompanying the growing hairs was a stink, the same kind of rank smell that Cory had been inhaling for some time now, which grew increasingly more powerful as the fur grew in. Cory’s chest hair also began to lengthen at the same time, the hairs coiling out and curling and bunching up. Any remaining empty space was filled with thick wiry hair springing out in rapid succession. The amount of hair was grotesque; the eruption of wiry black hairs created a rug of fur on Cory’s toned body, completely enveloping his torso such that his pecs and abs were hardly visible at all, only his engorged nipples barely poking out from the dense field of hair.

Together with the massive hair growth and coupled with the increased pigmentation in his hairs, the light tan which had developed on his face also migrated down. Cory’s pale complexion on his face was already completely replaced by a natural tan, a light sun-kissed brown. The colour seeped down his neck, his back, his shoulders, like someone had dumped a bucket of oil on Cory. The dim orange streetlight made his tan appear darker, what little bits of skin peeking out through the dense hair glistening with the light reflecting off the sweat. Soon, all of Cory’s skin was a luscious earthy tone, not that much of it was visible under all the fur carpeting his whole body.

Cory’s raunchy pit sweat guzzling was interrupted when the Turk made him turn around and stand facing the wall of the vacant building. “Ass out,” the guy ordered. Cory immediately obeyed, panting like a dog that’s had too much sun. He was excited by the prospect of getting railed by this hot Turkish hunk, not having realised all the changes that affected him. Beads of precum dribbled out of Cory’s aching cock, which in the meantime had also darkened to match the rest of his complexion. His balls, larger than before, also churned. Cory felt the Turk holding him from behind, grinding his wet slick cock against Cory’s ass crack filling with hair. “Ready?” asked the man. “Fuck yes,” Cory responded. The guy spat right onto Cory’s tight puckering hole. Wiry black hairs blossomed around the pink ring, spreading out alongside the hairs growing on his crack. The light dusting of hair on his bouncy glutes was swiftly overtaken by curly dark hairs.

The Turk slowly inserted his cock lubed up with Cory’s saliva and his own precum into Cory’s inviting hairy hole, making Cory emit low moans and animalistic grunts sounding deeper than the previous ones. The man thrust in and out of Cory in a rhythmic fashion, Cory’s hole wrapping around his cock, basically milking him of his pre. With every thrust and pound and depositing of the Turkish guy’s precum in him, Cory changed further. His furry mounds ballooned even more. Pound. Fuzz grew in from the area of his coccyx and crept up the entire length of his spine, connecting with the thick curly hairs on his shoulders. Pound. The same fuzz then fanned out from the backbone, coating the lower back and colonising the previously hairless area of the shoulder blades. Pound. The wispy hairs on his whole back turned darker, growing longer and thicker, thousands of individual strands unfurling as they burrowed out of Cory’s smooth skin with great strength, leaving him with an impenetrable pelt of fur on his back. Pound. The wiry hairs erupted in greater quantities on his legs and snaked down, growing all over and wrapping around his thighs and calves and shins. Pound. The midnight black hairs on Cory’s legs thickened considerably that they were now visible from a distance, in stark contrast to before when he still had barely-visible light hairs against his pale white skin.

The pounding increased in speed, the Turk’s hairy low-hanging golf ball-sized balls slamming and smacking sonorously against Cory’s voluptuous hairy ass, also making his balls increase in size to those of tennis balls. Each frenzied slap caused Cory’s bush to fill in and spread beyond its confines at the base of his penis. He had previously kept his crotch trimmed, but that was history now; his pubes more closely resembled black fur due to how dense and tightly-packed it was. It was impossible to see the skin underneath the bush which had basically spread to the navel and also around Cory’s hips, even having crawled a little bit up his shaft. The wild, unkempt matted fur on his groin, much like the coarse tufts of hair under his arms, collected both musk and moisture, rendering it damp and especially pungent. It was only this time that Cory realised how much he reeked, with his arms outstretched to prop himself against the wall as he was fucked by his dream man. He didn’t care that he stunk; no, it turned him on, even. His dick responded accordingly, pulsating painfully — as the Turkish guy continued to thrust rigorously, Cory’s leaking cock grew larger incrementally, as did his balls which were engulfed in wiry hairs, and Cory produced more and more pre which trickled down his shaft and onto his extremely tangled mess of a bush, stinking it up even more.

Very little of Cory as he once was at the coffeehouse remained. At this point, he resembled an extremely hairy, beefy Turkish man, handsome and masculine, oozing testosterone out of every pore, blessed with the perfect manly genes such that luscious fur carpeted his body front and back, head to toe. After a few more thrusts and plunging and poking, the Turk erupted with one drawn-out growl and heavy panting and flooded Cory’s insides with his hot, sticky seed, depositing load after load in him. On Cory’s part, he too was close to cumming. As his cock reached a fully erect length of at least 9 inches, his foreskin retracted down his pulsing shaft and vanished altogether, leaving him with a newly-cut slab of meat. Cory blasted — hands-free — at the same time as the other Turk, leaving a puddle of splooge on the ground and painting a fair bit of the wall he propped himself up against. As he came, so came out the last vestiges of his former whiteness, his balls now filling and churning with Turkish cum.

The guy pulled out of Cory with a shlorp, cum dribbling out of Cory’s manhandled hairy hole and clinging onto the thick curly hairs on Cory’s ass and legs. Both men were breathing heavily, completely spent. They momentarily stood in silence punctuated by the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional evening breeze. The other Turkish man, now slightly smaller in build than Cory, pulled Cory close for a kiss, gently and tenderly this time, not minding the pre and drool that had stuck and dried onto Cory’s majestic bushy beard.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked, thumbing Cory’s still-hard protruding nipples. Cory opened his mouth to respond but he hesitated. He suddenly realised he didn’t remember his name — what was his name? What a strange thing to forget! He knew it started with a C… no! It wasn’t a C, silly him. It started with a K, of course, and there was an R in there. K… Kor…? Ker…

“Kerem,” he finally answered. Yes, Kerem; that was his name, the name that he’d obviously had all his life. He’d always lived in Istanbul, hadn’t he? He liked the sea and the hills, his native culture, and the men, especially the men — those hirsute and masculine like him, of course — how happy is he who calls himself a Turk!

“I’m Semih,” said the other man who had followed Kerem all the way from the coffeehouse in the hopes of having fun with him. He certainly did get lucky, even out in public like this. “Evimde bir kez daha?”

“Peki, kanka.” Kerem was so ready for round two with Semih.

—————————————————

Hi all, decided to upload something original for a change. Kudos to @hairyjocktf for the encouragement!

[mysunshinetemptress]

Patience

Alexia putellas x equestrian!reader

Warnings:rushed shitty writing, not proofread

“Vamos!” You shout arms outstretched above your head in relief and excitement as you watch the Spanish girls dance around the pitch hugging one another and thanking their Japanese opponents, your mamí wraps her arms around you tightly pulling you into a hug “Oh, Potro, eso fue increíble” You let out a small laugh hugging her tighter “Conozco a Mamí y esto es solo el principio, VAMOS ESPAÑA”

You smile watching the team happily talk to each other about the match that has just taken place before deciding to call it a night, you had one final training session before you would have to take part in the first round of the eventing on the 27th.

Your least favourite event was dressage, you hated how meticulous it was how precise, everything had to be on point, one wrong stride and you would be falling down the table, the bid for a medal slipping further away. But dressage was like a dance, a dance where your dance partner is your horse Once fuertes, you lead and he follows in time to the music.

When it’s over and you see your name sitting in first place and you don’t seem to dislike it as much, you are happy with your dance partner, with the precision of his hooves through the sand his strides perfect, of course it is you who cause the fault only a slight one but still you have raked up 16.00 penalty points.

1.5 penalty points less than your closest opponent but it’s not enough.

“Lo siento, mamá, debería haber sido mejor” you fall into your mothers arms “Potro, it was perfect, parada being so hard on yourself, tienes razón donde necesitas ser un potro, llegarás allí, solo espera.” All you can do is let out a grunt as you push off her and turn to follow your grooming team.

You don’t get a day to relax, to process your recent accomplishments instead your sitting on Once fuertes in a forest in Versailles getting ready to take part in the cross country trail for both Spain and yourself just like yesterday.

Only today is not a dance, today is a race against a nine point two minute clock and twenty eight fences/obstacles in the way. Once fuertes is big at 17.5 hands these obstacles will be nothing for him the time trial a minuscule thought for such a long strided horse like him, but it’s up to you to get him there.

You do so perfectly, you trust in him to leap over every obstacle and land ready to race towards the next and he does it without hesitation yet you don’t stop talking to him pushing him forward edging him to go faster to jump higher and it pays off. You hold your lead. You’re still number one, still in position for gold. Your first gold.

Your happier this time around, your mother can tell just from the way your hunched over Once talking to him happily “ Oh, mi chico, eres increíble, eres perfecto, podríamos hacer esto, yo y tú, once, yo y podrías ganarlo todo, oh, ese es mi sueño para ti y para mí.” Your mother pats Once happily “Bien hecho once, gracias por cuidar de mi potro” you beam down at your mother before swinging your leg over and jumping down from the thoroughbred laughing happily as your mamí pulls you in for another bone crushing hug “Dios mío, mamá I think we might actually have a chance, we might actually place on the podium me and Spain, me and Once.” Tears spring to your mothers eyes, happy tears at your growing excitement, at your accomplishments so far “I don’t think you’ll just place Potro, you will win it all, you and España and Once, you will win the gold.” You shake your head not wanting to get your hopes up just yet “Paciencia, es todo lo que tengo en este deporte.” Your mother squeezed your arms before letting you stand back as you got ready to follow your groomers again “you sound just like your Papá.”

It’s not over, far from it, you still have the eventing show jumping tomorrow, the team final and the individual qualifiers but tonight you can relax, tonight you get to watch La Rojas face off against Nigeria, tonight you get to focus back on a different race for a podium and your happy to get to switch off even just for an hour.

You sit happily in the Olympic village with your team around a table as you watch the girls battle it out, fighting for a point that never seems to come. “Uhh, no van a anotar, quiero decir, vamos, quedan diez minutos.” Your teammate Carlos shakes his head, you simply smile and shake your head “Paciencia Carlos, they will strike when they are good and ready. She will strike when she is good and ready.” The team laugh at your faith in the Spanish girls, your faith in your favourite player La Reina herself, but it is you who is laughing five minutes later when Alexia scores the only goal of the match “Mira, te lo dije, when she is good and ready.”

You look out at the castle the next morning getting ready to walk the course with your teammates insuring you know your route, your strides, when to push Once on more with your leg and when to let off, to losen the reins, this is it, you could win your first gold medal today with Spain, your first gold medal as an individual, you just have to be patient.

You must qualify in the top twenty five to reach the individual qualifiers, you must be in the top twenty five to win, you have to jump a clear round all while staying within the eighty second time period. Once has to stay calm, so you have to stay calm, Once must keep his strides precise, he can’t over stretch, he might knock a pole if he does, he might knock more than one and the penalties you have been working so hard to keep down could wrack up suddenly, but again your against the clock a time trial, you have to do this fast, he has to do this fast, you both have to do this fast and clean together, it’s the only way you will keep your spot.

And you do. You jump last for Spain, you jump clear for Spain, for your self, to qualify for the individual medal, not a single pole rocked within the cups and you stayed five seconds under the time limit, for Spain, for you and Once, you were perfect, he was perfect, now it’s a waiting game as the last five jumpers get ready to try and knock Spain off the gold position.

None of your other teammates scores are as perfect as yours but they aren’t the worst, not even middle, they are comfortably in the top twenty and so you stand in the stands to watch the final rider with bated breath.

Great Britain sit second, France sit third and with Tom McEwans for Great Britain four faults in his round he seals the deal on all three podium spots, you have done it, you’ve won a gold medal, Spain have won a gold medal, Once has won you both a gold medal and now you have to refocus to win your individual one.

Your jumping last out of the twenty five riders, you sit in first and you can’t do anything except watch how the riders ahead of you take this new course, their turns, their leg sheathed it’s on or off, how their horses react, you watch the screen as the names move up and down below the top four, the top four, four faults sit between you all, four faults is all it will take for you to drop off the podium altogether, for this to be all for nothing and as your time comes closer it seems to be the only thing swimming around your head.

But it clears, it clears as you swing your leg over Once and as your mamí squeezes your leg before turning to the thoroughbred “Enciérdala por mí, cuida a mi pequeño potro.”

Sixty seconds till your gold medal, sixty seconds till you hold a gold medal, till you and Once become Olympic champions sixty seconds and a clear round.

You don’t remember the course, you don’t remember starting the course, but the roar as Once touches the ground on the far side of the final fence, clear, two seconds under the time giving, clear, clear, he jumped clear, you jumped clear both of you together jumped clear, your an Olympic champion, Once is an Olympic champion, Spain are Olympic champions and all you can do is look towards the sky and shout.

You arrive back to the village beaming, two gold medals around your neck, a team and an individual, you won’t have time to celebrate it, not yet, the games aren’t over but for now you beam and let out quite thanks you’d as athletes pass you in the village congratulating you as they pass.

You freeze as a certain athlete stands in front of you “Guau, hace tres días y ya tienes dos medallas de oro, debes ser bueno.” Your frozen unable speak, unable to think, unable to breath. She’s gorgeous, she’s breathtaking and she’s standing right in front of you. “No, No not really.” She smiles holding out her hand to you “I’m Alexia.” You look at her hand before taking it gently, scared your hand might pass through hers “I-I am Y/n.” Alexia beams happily holding your hand for far longer than she expected but she thinks you’re gorgeous, that you’re breathtaking and so she doesn’t mind “I was going to get a go coffee, would you like to join me.” You nod before finding your words “Sí, me encantaría.”

You let out a laugh as Alexia tells you of her younger sister Alba stating that the only role she wanted in the Olympics was that of a WAG or singing in the opening ceremony.

You sit happily listening to her talk about her family, talks about them like you have known her and them forever, you want to ask about her father but decide that if she isn’t happy mentioning him to you, a complete stranger she met mere hours ago then you weren’t going to ask.

“I am here for Fútbol.” You nodded “Sí, I-I am a fan.” Alexia doesn’t react like you thought she would, her smile seems to grow “a fan, of Spain?, of Barcelona?, of me?.” You laugh “De todos ustedes, de España, de Barcelona de ustedes, la Reina- I have been in love with fútbol my entire life, I have been a culers my entire life, and I have been a fan of you since you started playing.” Alexia lets out a sigh, a content sigh. “That is good, because I don’t think I could give my phone number to a Real Madrid supporter.” You laugh again this time sliding your phone over to the older girl.

Alexia watch’s you as she types in her number, adding emojis to her name. “So you never told me what sport you’re so great at that you won both of your medals for.” You blush as the conversation turns to you, you were quite content listening to Alexia talk and now she had switched to you. “Ecuestre, this one is from the team eventing so Yo y otros tres ciclistas ganamos este.” You hold out your team gold medal for Alexia to inspect “Y entonces this one is my individual medal, but really I couldn’t have done it without Once.” You hold out your individual medal as Alexia’s eyebrows raise “what is your horses name.” You smile “Once fuertes” Alexia nods approving “eleven is a strong number alright.” You let out a giggle taking back your medals “so what does Once get.” You go to take your phone out to show her pictures of the thoroughbred “he gets a rosette, and carrots, lots of carrots.” Alexia let’s out a small oh “well that’s not fair.” You pause as you go to hand over your phone “what do you mean.” Alexia shrugs “well your job is easy, the horse does all the work, so shouldn’t he get a better prize.” You feel your face heat up and turn bright red from embarrassment, as you smile sheepishly putting your phone back in your pocket, you push your chair to get up from the table and Alexia can tell she’s said the wrong thing “Y/n.” You ignore her as you stand “Good luck for the rest of the games.” You leave immediately as Alexia shakes her head “Joder.”

Alexia tried texting you but your not answering and so she decides to see if you have any social media, with a quick google of your name Alexia feels her guilt increase ten fold “Y/n Ferré Balagueró dedicates her Olympic wins to her father.” “MIERDA”

[v6quewrlds]

I want to say I'm so glad I found your account, and I have enjoyed reading all your works so far!Sorry this is vague ,but could you write about Jamie Oleksiak being on the road and wanting the reader to fly out to be with him.

FIVE STAR HOTELS, JAMIE OLEKSIAK.

pairing⠀⁎⠀jamie oleksiak x fwb!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀5.7k.

summary⠀⁎⠀three things are certain in life: death, taxes, and the best sex of your life with the canadian hockey player you met a year ago. so when he all but begs you fly out to see him in florida, you wouldn't dare resist.

author's note⠀⁎⠀this is my husband y'all. sorry to everyone else but jamie and i are in fact married. ty to anon for requesting, so sorry it took me over a month to finish :( warnings⠀⁎⠀smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends with benefits, sexting, handjob, roughish sex, fingering, spanks, choking, fingering, size kink (duh), unprotected sex, creampie, feelings.

You bustled into your cozy apartment, seeking shelter from the cold, windy evening. Your eyes gleamed with the promise of a weekend devoid of weddings to plan or happy endings to attend to. Your job kept you on your toes, orchestrating fairytale endings for couples in love. You had dreamed of such a career since you were a child. Yet, at the end of a particularly hectic week, you craved nothing more than a quiet evening alone with a good book and a glass of wine.

Your phone, a sleek black device that had become an extension of your hand, buzzed with a notification. It was a text from Jamie, the charming Canadian hockey player you had met at a destination wedding you had planned over a year ago.

He was a cousin of the groom, a towering 6’7” with sandy blonde curls he kept short. The attraction was instant, he stuck to your side like a persistent shadow that day, flirting with the kind of charm that could melt a polar ice cap. Since then, the two of you had maintained a friends-with-benefits arrangement that suited you both. Two busy professionals with no time for commitments, you had agreed to keep things casual, a secret known only to the two of you.

Jamie’s message was accompanied by an innocent heart emoji.

Missing you.

Wish you were here, waiting in my hotel room, begging for me.

It was to the point, yet playfully suggestive.

You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him back. You snapped a sultry selfie of your bare shoulder and the curve of your neck. The light from the bedside lamp casts a warm glow on your brown skin, setting an alluring mood. You sent it with an accompanying message.

Looks like you’re going to have to wait a bit longer.

Your heart raced as you watched the message bubble turn blue from sent to delivered, knowing the effect it would have on him.

Deciding to leave him out to dry, you sashayed into the bathroom, your thoughts racing with the thrill of the game you played. You poured herself a generous glass of wine and slipped into the steaming tub you had meticulously prepared. The scent of vanilla filled the room as the candles you lit flickered, casting dancing shadows across your skin. Your phone lay on the edge of the sink counter, a silent spectator to the steamy evening ahead.

Your mind wandered to the last time you had seen Jamie, the way his eyes darkened when you straddled him, his grip tightening on your hips as he claimed you in his Seattle high rise. The memory was so vivid you could almost feel the phantom touch of his large, calloused hands on your skin. You took a sip of wine, your thoughts drifting to the thrill of your mindless hookups. The two of you had agreed on the terms: no strings attached, no expectations beyond the physical. Yet, as you traced the rim of your glass with your fingertip, a nagging question whispered in the back of your mind.

Was this all there was between you?

As you climbed out of the tub, your skin pruned from the hot water, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a picture of Jamie, his muscular chest on display, hand placed decisively on the bulge in his sweatpants. His curls more pronounced than the first time you met him, a silent nod to your hair care recommendation whispered into the night several months ago. His smirk in the mirror was unmistakable, and you felt a familiar warmth spread through your body.

You exchanged a flurry of texts, each one more explicit than the last. Your heart fluttered at his words, the raw desire in them clear as day. But you were not one to be outdone. You sent him a tasteful nude, the picture framing your curves with the elegance of a French painting. It was a deliberate move, one that would surely leave him yearning for more of you.

The conversation grew hotter, and you could feel his anticipation through the screen. But you were at home, and he was on the road again, playing for the NHL.

I’m on the East Coast for the next week.

Jamie texted back, his words accompanied by a mischievous smirk you could practically see in your mind.

Oh?

You replied, playing coy. You knew where this was going, at this point Jamie was an open book to you, but you enjoyed the game.

Yeah, played against the Lightning last night and the Panthers in Fort Lauderdale in three days.

Your eyes widened at his audacity, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach. He knew you had a soft spot for surprises. 

You took a deep breath, sipping your wine as you typed back.

And what would you like from me?

The response came swiftly, with a simple:

You know what I want.

You felt a thrill run through you. He was always straightforward, but this was a bold move even for him. You knew that when he played, he was in game mode, focused on the ice. For him to invite you to one of his games was significant. Was he looking to take things to the next level? Or was this just another one of his spontaneous adventures?

Your curiosity piqued, and you decided to play along. You texted back:

What makes you think I can just drop everything and fly out to Florida?

Before the text could be delivered, your notifications chimed again, this time an email. You deflated for a brief moment, bracing yourself for a message from a frantic bride-to-be. Instead, you found an email from Jamie with the subject line, "Surprise." Your heart skipped a beat as you opened it to find an e-ticket attached. He had already booked you a first-class flight to Fort Lauderdale for the next day, decidedly one-way. This was his way of telling you that you wouldn’t be leaving until he was done with you.

Your hand hovered over the message button, your thumb poised to decline. But something about the gesture, the way he had taken control and laid out your weekend plans without asking, stirred a cocktail of emotions. Part of you felt irritated, another part of you was thrilled by the excitement of the impromptu trip. 

You took a deep breath and typed back.

If you think I’m going to sit in the stands and watch you play, you’re wrong.

Jamie's response was swift.

Oh, you won't be watching from the stands, darling. You’ll be too fucked out to leave the hotel room.

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. The thought of being pampered and pleasured by Jamie was definitely appealing.

With a touch of hesitation, you sent a response.

Okay.

Jamie immediately called you once he read the message, his deep voice rumbling through the phone, "Yeah? Didn’t think I’d pull that off honestly."

You giggled, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation, "What am I getting myself into?"

Jamie's voice was filled with promise and a hint of amusement, "Just a weekend of amazing sex, baby. You know the deal."

You nodded, though he couldn't see you. "I'll hold you to that."

-

The next day, you found yourself boarding the flight to Fort Lauderdale, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. The luxury of first class was different from your usual economy flights, and you couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for indulging in the comfort Jamie had so casually offered.

As the plane took off, you couldn't shake the feeling that this weekend might be more than just sex and teasing. The gesture of flying you out was unprecedented in your casual relationship, and the thought of what it might mean sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to focus on your book, but the words blurred together on the page as you wondered about the potential shift in dynamics. Was Jamie looking for something more? Or was this just another weekend for him?

The flight attendant offered you a complimentary glass of champagne, and you accepted it with a grateful smile. You sipped it slowly, feeling the bubbles dance on your tongue and the warmth spread through your body. The gentle hum of the plane's engine and your favorite playlist playing in your ears lulled you into a state of relaxation you hadn't felt in weeks. You were going to enjoy this weekend, regardless of what it meant—or what Jamie might hope it meant.

When you landed in the sun-soaked city, you felt a thrill as you stepped out of the terminal. The warm breeze was a stark contrast to the winter chill of your hometown, and you took a moment to savor the feeling of the sun on your skin. The Uber Jamie had arranged was waiting for you, the driver an older man with a friendly face.

"Jamie?" he called out.

"Jamie requested a ride for me," you corrected him with a laugh. "He's my... he's a friend."

The driver's eyes twinkled with knowing mischief as he nodded. "Ah, a friend, huh? He's quite the gentleman to send you a ride like this." He opened the door to a sleek black car, and you slid into the cool leather interior. As he pulled away from the airport, you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach. The anticipation of seeing Jamie again grew stronger with every mile closer to the hotel.

The hotel was a luxurious retreat, nestled on the beachfront with a view that made you gasp. The driver pulled up to the valet, and you stepped out, feeling both pampered and slightly out of place. The bellhop took your bags, and you followed him into the grand lobby, your sneakers squeaking against the marble floor. The room Jamie had reserved for you was a penthouse suite, complete with a king-sized bed adorned with plush pillows and a balcony that overlooked the sparkling ocean.

You couldn't resist sending Jamie a photo of the view with a caption.

You're not so bad for a fuck buddy.

His response was swift and smug.

Anything to keep my favorite girl happy.

Despite your resolve to keep things casual, you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the tropical sun outside. You took a shower in the spacious bathroom, feeling the luxury of the hotel wrapping around you. You had never felt more pampered or more desired.

After ordering room service at Jamie’s insistence, you slipped into the lingerie Jamie had bought for you after tearing up your favorite set just two weeks ago. It was a black set that showed off your curves through the mesh fabric, embellished with delicate lace that traced your body as if made for you.

You sent him a seductive text with a photo of yourself dressed in the lingerie, your smile embedded into your features as you typed. His response was swift, filled with fire and hunger. You could almost hear his gruff voice saying it.

Fuck, you're going to be the death of me

The anticipation grew as you waited for Jamie to arrive, your heart racing with every footstep you heard in the hallway. Finally, the door clicked open, and he stood before you, his eyes darkening as they took in your form. He was dressed in his travel attire—his body still humming with energy from the early morning practice. You could see the bulge in his pants, and you knew he had been thinking of you all day.

You didn't bother with pleasantries. The moment the door was shut, you were on each other, kissing deeply, hands roaming and eager to feel each other’s skin. Your body molded into Jamie's, his large frame enveloping you in a warm embrace that made you feel small and protected. You stumbled to the bed, a mess of limbs and passion. Your clothes were peeled away in a frenzy, revealing the familiar contours of your bodies that had become so well acquainted over the past year.

"You look absolutely stunning," Jamie murmured, his breath hot against your neck as his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs grazing your hardened nipples through the lace. Your face heated with a mix of pleasure and pride. It was clear that your usual casual flings had evolved into something more intense, something that made your pulse quicken and your body ache for his touch.

His head dipped to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you gripped the fabric of his shirt as he worked his way down to your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your chest, his hands deftly unhooking your bra. The cool air of the room washed over your now-exposed breasts, and you let out a soft gasp.

Their chemistry was intoxicating, a dance of lust and desire that had become a familiar rhythm to you two. You had perfected the art of reading each other’s cues, knowing just how much to give and take. But tonight, something felt different. There was a tenderness in Jamie’s touch that was usually reserved for those fleeting moments after passion had waned. You felt it in the way he kissed you, in the gentle strokes of his fingers as they traced your body.

"You’re not playing fair, Jamie," you murmured, your voice a breathy whisper as he kissed and nibbled his way down your body. He looked up at you, his eyes smoldering with desire, and you could see the smug satisfaction in his smile. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he reveled in it.

He kissed his way back up to you, his tongue tracing the line of your collarbone before he claimed your mouth in a fiery kiss that left you breathless. He wasted no time in peeling away the rest of your lingerie, leaving you bare before him. His eyes roamed over you with a hunger that made you feel exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn’t look away.

His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring as if he hadn’t seen your naked body enough times to memorize every curve and ripple. Your hands found their way to his hair, your fingers playing with the curls that had become as familiar to you as your own.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, the intensity of your kiss building like the crescendo of a symphony. You felt the ache in your core, the need for him growing with every beat of your heart. He broke the kiss, his breathing heavy, and whispered, "I missed you." It was a simple declaration that held the weight of the unspoken truth between you—that your connection was growing to be more than just physical.

Your mouth met his again with a passion that surprised even yourself. You had never been one to get swept away by the romantic gestures of men, but something about Jamie’s confidence, his careless charm, and his unyielding desire for you made you feel like the only woman in the world. You felt a sudden urgency to show him that you felt the same, to let go of the walls you had built so carefully around your heart.

"Take it off," you whimpered into his mouth, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He chuckled, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. His abs rippled as he moved, a testament to the hours he spent at the gym, sculpting his body into the chiseled masterpiece before you. You traced the lines of his stomach with your nails, feeling the muscles contract under your touch.

Desperate moans escaped your lips as Jamie’s hips began to rut into yours. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, begging for entry, and you eagerly parted your legs wider for him. With a moan, he lifted his chest from yours as he moved to stand up from the bed. Your eyes were darker with anticipation, your pupils blown as they tracked his movements. Unexpectedly, he yanked you down the bed by your legs, causing you to laugh breathlessly. He smirked down at you, that same smugness from earlier still lingering in his expression.

"Want these off?" Jamie asked, his voice low and seductive as he reached for the side of his boxers. You nodded, your eyes locked on the prize waiting for you underneath the fabric. He chuckled at your failing words, a familiar teasing in his eyes.

"Be a good girl, come take them off me, baby," Jamie said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through your body.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, a seductive smile playing on your lips. You took your time standing to your feet, your eyes boring into his as you reached his waistband. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pulled down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock that stood at attention. You couldn’t help the low hum of appreciation that escaped you as you took in the sight of him fully aroused.

He stepped out of the discarded fabric, his body a canvas of power and desire. You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to grip him firmly. His breath hissed out in a sharp gasp, his eyes never leaving yours. You stroked him from base to tip, feeling his pulse under your fingertips. It was a power play you enjoyed, watching him lose control as you maintained your composure.

But Jamie was not one to be outdone. He reached out and snatched your wrist, pulling you closer. "Teasing isn't fair," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

In one swift motion, he spun you around so that you were bent over the edge of the bed. Your heart raced, your body quivering with anticipation. He kicked your legs apart, giving him full access to your wet, aching pussy. Without warning, Jamie plunged two fingers inside you, causing you to gasp and arch your back. His other hand came down firmly on your ass with a smack that echoed through the room.

"Jamie!" you cried out, the sting melding with the pleasure of his touch.

"I told you, I want to hear you scream," he spoke with a teasing lilt, his voice thick with desire. His fingers worked you, stretching and curling, finding that sweet spot deep inside that made your knees buckle. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every stroke, your body begging for more.

Jamie's thumb began to circle your clit, the pressure building with every pass. You moaned, your body shaking as you felt the beginnings of an orgasm. He leaned over you, his warm breath against your neck, whispering sweet nothings that were anything but sweet. "You're going to come so hard for me, baby. I want to feel you pulse around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, the sensation of his fingers moving inside you, the sound of the ocean outside, and the smell of your desire filling the air. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, your body convulsing around his hand. He didn’t relent, pushing you through it, drawing out your cries of pleasure until you were left trembling.

"Please," you begged, your voice raw with need.

With a low chuckle, Jamie withdrew his hand, leaving you panting and desperate. He stepped back, allowing you to catch your breath before his hands were back on you. "Please what?" he teased, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

You struggled to form a sentence under the heat of his touch. His hands traced the line of your spine before landing on your hips. "Please, Jamie, I need you to fuck me," you finally managed to say, your voice a whiny whisper.

With a groan, Jamie lined himself up with your slick entrance, pushing into you in one powerful thrust. Your nails dug into the bedsheets as he filled you completely, the sensation so intense it bordered on pain. You felt every inch of him as he began to move, his hips slamming into yours with a force that rocked the bed.

"Yes," you hissed, pushing back against him, urging him deeper. You moved together in a primal synchronization, the sound of your skin connecting echoing through the suite. Your moans grew louder with every thrust, the pleasure building again.

Jamie's hands held onto your hips tightly, his grip almost bruising. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his own pleasure evident in the tightness of his voice. You could feel the tension in his body as he held back, trying to draw out your encounter. But you were greedy for more, pushing back to meet him stroke for stroke.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he trailed a hand up your spine. Your body was pliant to his touch, a silent invitation for him to claim you completely. He took it, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you up. The strength of his movements drew a hum from you, your mind barely registering the sudden shift in position. Your back pressed against his muscular front, the difference in your sizes a reminder of how much power Jamie had over you in that moment.

Jamie’s head dipped to whisper filthy praise into your ears, "So beautiful when you take me like this." His words only served to fuel the fire burning within you. Your hips bucked back into him, your moans turning into screams of pleasure as he hit that perfect spot deep within you. The tension grew, tightening like a coil ready to spring.

"Choke me," you panted, surprising even yourself with the demand. You had never been one for such extreme measures, but with Jamie, you found yourself craving the intense, the edge that came with relinquishing all control to him. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he wrapped a hand around the sides of your throat, his grip firm but not punishing.

Your eyes widened and you gasped, the sudden pressure heightening the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you. Each thrust grew more forceful, more demanding, and you could feel the orgasm building within you, the pressure like a storm waiting to be unleashed. You gripped the flesh of his thighs, your nails digging into his skin as you held onto him for dear life. Your ass met his hips at a delicious pace, leaving you speechless as the feeling of him inside your pussy overtook all your thoughts.

Jamie’s grip tightened on your neck, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face contort with pleasure. His strokes grew faster, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. You could feel his muscles tensing, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. He whispered dirty words into your ear, his voice a gruff growl that sent shivers down your spine.

Feeling the second orgasm crest over you, your eyes locked onto Jamie’s, the intensity of the moment making the air thick with desire. His thumb caressed your neck as his fingers tightened slightly, the gentle squeeze a silent question. You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave herself over to him completely. The pressure increased, and you felt a rush of adrenaline, your heart racing in your chest. The feeling was overwhelming, a devastating mix of adrenaline and pleasure that had your toes curling and your back arching.

The orgasm finally hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over your body as you cried out. It was a release you hadn’t felt in a long time, one that left you trembling and panting for breath. As the world around you swam back into focus, you realized that you had just entrusted Jamie with something you had never allowed anyone else to take: control over your body and your pleasure.

In your orgasmic haze you hadn't realized that Jamie had completely stopped moving, his hips stilled as he watched you writhe in his grasp. He leaned down to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered, "You're so good to me, baby."

The words were a departure from the raw power of the moment, but you felt them in every fiber of your being. You moaned out at his words, the sound a thin, whispery thing that forced Jamie to close his eyes as it shot through him. Your arms reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging weakly as your chest heaved and your muscles squeezed him tighter still.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming out his name. His grip on your neck loosened, but didn't leave, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your throbbing pulse.

"You're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. Your eyes fluttered open to find his gaze intense and focused, the blue depths searching yours.

"Okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as he waited for you to recover from the intense climax.

You nodded, your breaths still coming in pants. He slowly withdrew, the loss making you whine in protest. He chuckled, the sound deep and masculine, before turning you to face him. His eyes searched yours for any sign of distress but found only satisfaction. He kissed you softly, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. It was a stark contrast to the fierce passion you had just shared, but it was no less potent.

Lifting you into his arms with an ease that never failed to surprise you, Jamie delicately placed you onto the bed, your legs draped around his hips. His eyes watched yours as he positioned himself at your entrance once again, the head of his cock nudging against your sensitive flesh.

"Tell me you want it," he said, his voice gruff with need.

"I want it," you responded without hesitation, your voice a needy whine. You were desperate for him to fill you again, to feel the full weight of his body on top of yours.

With a smile, Jamie plunged back into you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass as you urged him deeper. You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you completely, the way he stretched you open. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you intense and all-consuming.

Your hands trailed up his sides softly as his hips snapped into yours, keeping himself propped up over you.

"Fuck, Jamie," you breathed out, your eyes fluttering shut at the feel of his thick cock sliding in and out of you. You felt alive, on fire with desire, and you knew that you would never get enough of this man. His rhythm was slow and deliberate, each stroke a sweet torture that had you begging for more.

"Eyes on me, honey," Jamie growled, his gaze holding yours captive as he picked up the pace. You whimpered, your eyes snapping back open to meet his. He thrust into you faster now, his muscles rippling with the effort of his restraint. Your nails scraped down his back, leaving a trail of red in their wake as you desperately clung to him.

Your movements grew frenzied, your bodies slapping together in a dance of passion that was as natural to you as breathing. Your legs tightened around him, your heels digging into the small of his back as you met every one of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. The intensity in his gaze told you everything you needed to know without a single word spoken.

"I'm gonna come," he ground out, his voice strained as he fought for control. 

You felt the tension coil within you once more, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You bit your lip, your eyes locked on his as you whispered, "Do it, Jamie. Give it to me. Come inside me, please."

His strokes faltered for a moment with an unspoken question. You had never allowed him to finish inside you, and the gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. You nodded, your eyes stuck on him as you whispered, "I'm on the pill. It's okay."

The tension broke and Jamie's expression softened as he leaned down to kiss you, a gentle press of his lips that spoke volumes of his appreciation for your trust. He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hips resumed their steady rhythm. The feeling of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating, a sensation that you hadn't allowed yourself to experience in a very long time. You felt a new level of vulnerability with him, but somehow it didn't scare you—it only thrilled you.

Your orgasm was building again, your muscles tightening around him as you clung to his shoulders. He felt your tension, your breaths growing shallower, and he knew you were close. He thrust into you harder, his own release approaching. Your eyes remained glued on one another, the connection between you a silent declaration of something more than just physical pleasure.

Your movements grew erratic, bodies entangled as the room grew hotter with their passion. Your moans grew louder, filling the suite with the symphony of your lovemaking. The headboard smacked against the wall in rhythm with Jamie's hips, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the room. The sight of you, your eyes glazed over with ecstasy, was too much for Jamie to bear.

With a final, deep thrust, he came inside you, his release powerful and unbridled. You felt the warmth spread through you, your body tightening around him as you followed him over the edge into pure bliss. You held onto each other tightly, your breaths mingling as you rode out your orgasms together.

For a moment, you lay there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in sync. Then, as if suddenly aware of your surroundings, you both looked around the hotel room, the stark reality of your situation setting in. The room was a mess of rumpled sheets and discarded clothing, a testament to your passionate encounter.

You felt a peculiar mix of emotions. The raw vulnerability of your session had shaken you to your core, but you couldn't deny the exhilaration of crossing that line with Jamie. You looked up at him, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, his eyes filled with a tenderness you had never seen before. He leaned down and kissed your forehead gently, the gesture sending a warmth through you that was entirely different from the heat of your earlier passion.

You lay there for a while longer, your hearts slowly returning to a steady beat. Eventually, Jamie pulled out of you with a sigh, and you felt the emptiness immediately. He rolled to the side, taking you with him, so you were nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

The silence between you was comfortable, but it didn’t last long. Your mind was racing with thoughts and feelings you weren’t quite ready to voice. You knew that what you had just done was more than your usual arrangement allowed, and you weren’t sure how to navigate these new waters.

"As much as I appreciate the after care, I can feel your cum leaking out of me," you giggled, pushing yourself off Jamie's chest. "And there's a lot of it." 

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as you stood to clean up.

"You're a mess," he said with affection, his eyes tracking your figure as you moved to the bathroom. You grabbed a towel and threw it over your shoulder towards him, your nakedness not bothering you in the slightest.

"Because of you," you shot back, your laughter echoing off the walls. The tension from your encounter had dissipated, leaving only a warm, content feeling in its wake.

"I'm not the one who begged for it," Jamie retorted playfully, a smug grin spreading across his face. You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips as you padded back to the bed after cleaning yourself up. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down to the bed with a gentle tug. "Stay," he said, his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through your body.

Obliging, you snuggled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his touch settle over you again. The two of you lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow, before Jamie spoke up again, his voice softer this time. "Why'd you do that, hon?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his question, unsure of how to articulate the complex web of emotions you felt. "Because you're six-foot-seven with a cute smile," you chuckled with an attempt at a joke.

"I'm serious," he said, stroking your skin gently.

You took a deep breath, your eyes avoided him as you thought of what he was really asking. "I don't know, Jamie," you said finally. "I just wanted to feel all of you, I guess."

Jamie's expression grew serious as he studied you, his thumb continuing to trace lazy circles on your skin. "And now?"

You chewed your lower lip, your eyes searching his. "Now," you whispered, "I don't know what it means."

Jamie's hand stilled on your skin, his eyes revealing the conflict inside him. After a moment, he leaned in and kissed you gently, a soft promise of more to come. "We don't have to figure it out right now," he murmured against your lips. "Let's just enjoy this weekend."

You nodded, relieved that he wasn't pushing for answers you didn't have. You snuggled closer, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your cheek. You lay in silence, your bodies tangled together as the minutes stretched into an hour. The tension of the unspoken words hovered around you, but for now, it was enough to just be in each other's arms.

[starmatzz]

Can u write like Dom yunho with grooming kink nd CNC

Like he loves to take care of y/n who is a dumb innocent doll

As she starts realising that the rules (she can't go out of the house without yunho, no friends, no work, yunho dresses her) yunho has for her are kinda crazy and tries to escape but gets caught

A full smut

𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

bf!Yunho x gf!reader | smut | 4.6k

nsfw tags:

dom/sub, dollification, pet names, cnc, grooming kink, abuse, violence, controlling, handcuffs, gag, choking, threatening, vaginal sex, mxf, possessive behavior, cum, mocking, punishment, brainwashing, free use, daddy kink

author's note: phew! i tried my best hehe..hope you'll like it

You stood in the dimly lit living room, your hand resting against the cool glass of the window as you watched people your age laughing and walking together outside. Their voices carried through the air, light and carefree, while you remained on the other side of the glass—watching, not joining.

“What are you looking at, darling?”

A deep voice rumbled behind you, warm and familiar. You turned to see your boyfriend standing there, watching you with a soft, unreadable expression.

“I was wondering…” you hesitated, your voice small, uncertain. “If I could maybe… go outside sometimes.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor as soon as the words left your lips, as if saying them aloud made them too fragile, too easy to dismiss. The room was quiet for a moment, save for the faint sound of laughter filtering in from outside.

“Not today, my sweet girl, but tomorrow we can,” Yunho murmured, his voice gentle as he lifted your chin with a careful touch. 

“I’ll pick out some cute clothes for you,” he continued, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Gonna make you look all pretty when we go outside, hm?” He tilted his head slightly, watching your expression as if making sure you weren’t too disappointed.

“Well… I was thinking that maybe I could go… alone,” you said carefully, your voice barely above a whisper.

The change in Yunho was immediate. His smile faded, and his warm gaze darkened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. The playful tilt of his head stilled, his grip on your chin tightening just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch.

“Alone?” he echoed, as if tasting the word on his tongue, testing it. The room felt quieter now, the laughter from outside suddenly distant, as if the world beyond the window had pulled away.

You quickly realized your mistake, shaking your head as a nervous chill ran down your spine.

“N-no…” you stuttered, your voice barely steady.

Yunho’s eyes stayed locked on yours, unreadable, his grip lingering just a second longer before he finally let go. The weight of his gaze felt heavy, pressing down on you like an invisible force.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He brushed a thumb over your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. “You don’t need to go alone, princess. I’ll take care of you, always.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but something about them sent a shiver down your spine.

When evening came, Yunho guided you to the bathroom, his touch gentle but firm as he helped you wash your hair. His fingers worked through the strands with practiced care, massaging your scalp in slow, deliberate circles. The warm water cascaded down your back, but even in its comforting heat, you couldn’t ignore the way his presence lingered—always watching, always tending to you like you were something fragile, something to be kept.

Later, in your bedroom, he sat you down in front of the vanity, the low hum of the blow dryer filling the quiet space. His fingers combed through your damp hair, smoothing out any tangles with soft strokes before carefully drying each section. He was meticulous, ensuring every strand was perfectly in place, just the way he liked.

Yunho always made sure you looked perfect for him—his perfect doll. Hair carefully styled with delicate bows or glittering clips, soft makeup dusted over your cheeks, and the cutest outfits he could find. You were his masterpiece, his sweet, delicate thing.

“All done,” he murmured, setting the blow dryer aside and tilting your chin up to meet his gaze in the mirror. A satisfied smile played on his lips as he admired his work.

“Perfect, just like always.”

Yunho gently slid the robe off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. The cool air brushed against your skin, but before you could react, he was already slipping a pair of soft pink shorts up your legs, his touch slow and deliberate.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he smoothed the fabric over your hips.

Next, he grabbed one of his shirts—a loose, oversized thing that still carried his scent—and carefully guided it over your head. The material hung off your frame, drowning you in its warmth, the sleeves nearly covering your hands.

His eyes softened, but there was something possessive in the way he looked at you, like he was making sure you belonged to him in every possible way.

He reached out, gently brushing your hair back into place before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get you to bed, sweetheart.”

Like always, Yunho pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, tucking the blankets around you before pulling you close. His warmth surrounded you, his steady breathing in your ear like a lullaby. It was routine—his kiss, his touch, his presence wrapping around you like an unshakable force.

But tonight, sleep didn’t come.

Your mind was restless, turning over thoughts you usually pushed away. You stared at the ceiling, heart beating a little too fast, a little too loud.

The rules.

You weren’t allowed to go outside alone.

You couldn’t have friends.

You couldn’t work.

You couldn’t even dress yourself.

Everything—every part of your life—belonged to Yunho.

And for the first time in a long time, you wondered what it would feel like to take something back.

The night had passed slowly, and when morning finally came, you didn’t expect anything to be different.

Yunho woke you gently, brushing a strand of hair from your face with the same tenderness he always had. His touch, warm and familiar, stirred you awake from your dreams, and you blinked up at him, still wrapped in the haze of sleep.

“Good morning, my sweet little girl,” he murmured, his voice smooth and comforting.

Before you could fully gather your senses, he scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to the bathroom. His movements were effortless, like it was second nature to take care of you in every way. He set you down carefully and began the usual morning routine: running the water just the right temperature, helping you wash your face, brushing your hair, guiding you through the motions with the same quiet patience as always.

Then, he dressed you again—soft, pastel clothes, always perfectly chosen to suit you. Your world, your body, your choices, were all carefully controlled by him, as if he were constructing the perfect image of you, piece by piece.

You looked in the mirror, and for a moment, it all felt so ordinary. Until your own reflection stared back at you, and a small, unfamiliar thought flickered in the back of your mind.

You sat across from Yunho at the breakfast table, the soft clink of utensils in the quiet morning air. He was holding his usual cup of coffee, his eyes thoughtful as he stared into the dark liquid, as if pondering something important.

“I was thinking…” Yunho began, his voice slow, deliberate. “That I need to protect you more.”

You paused, the air suddenly feeling heavier, though you couldn’t place why. His gaze met yours, intense and steady, and for a brief moment, you wondered what exactly he meant.

Then, with a small smile, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out—a delicate bracelet, glinting softly in the light.

“This,” Yunho continued, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the bracelet as he held it out to you, “allows me to watch you y/n, wherever you are.”

Your eyes widened as he placed it in your palm. The weight of the object felt strangely heavy, like it held more than just its physical presence. It was a tether, a connection you hadn’t asked for, yet there it was, pressing against your skin.

“You’ll always be safe,” he said, his voice low and reassuring, but there was something in the way he said it that made a shiver run down your spine. “Always.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say, your fingers tightening around the bracelet as you tried to make sense of the feeling growing in your chest.

“But why—” you started, confusion clouding your voice as you looked at the bracelet in your hand.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, angel,” Yunho interrupted, his smile soft but insistent, as if the answer was already clear and you didn’t need to ask any more questions.

His thumb gently wiped the corner of your mouth, where a small smear of yogurt had left a mark. The tender gesture was so familiar, so routine, and yet, it felt almost too intimate in that moment, like he was reminding you of how little you needed to worry about anything but him.

“You don’t need to understand everything,” he murmured, eyes fixed on you as if watching for any hint of resistance. “Just trust me, okay?”

The sudden ringing of Yunho’s phone cut through the moment, and he groaned softly, irritation flashing across his face.

“Gotta answer this,” he muttered, standing up from the table. He didn’t even glance at you as he straightened his shirt, the usual calm demeanor falling into place. “Be a good girl while I deal with this, okay? Make me proud.”

He petted your hair, fingers gently brushing through the strands, and for a second, you almost felt comforted by the gesture. But then, he was turning away, heading upstairs with his phone pressed to his ear, his footsteps echoing in the quiet house.

You sat there, the empty space around you feeling oddly suffocating, the sound of his voice drifting off into the distance. It wasn’t the first time he had left you alone, but something about it felt different this time. Something about his words lingered in the air, unspoken expectations hanging like a weight over your chest.

You were left with your thoughts again, the bracelet still resting heavy in your palm, and the quiet feeling of being… controlled.

The weight of everything—his rules, his control, the constant feeling of being watched—had built up over time, but now, it felt unbearable. The room was quiet, the house still, but your mind raced, no longer able to ignore the growing knot of unease in your stomach.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t keep living like this.

That night, you spent hours staring at the ceiling, your mind working through every possible way to get out. Every escape route, every detail, every risk—thinking it through over and over, your heart pounding as you came to one conclusion: you had to leave.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Yunho. You did. But the love he gave was suffocating, controlling, like a cage you had spent too long trying to ignore. You needed to be your own person again, to breathe without feeling trapped by the life he had built around you.

Your heart raced as you quickly stood up, glancing around the room. The silence felt almost deafening, every small sound echoing in your ears. Yunho was still upstairs, his voice barely audible through the floorboards, absorbed in his call.

You didn’t hesitate. Without another thought, you left the bracelet on the table—its presence still lingering in the air like a warning—and stepped silently past the kitchen. Your footsteps were muffled against the cool floors as you moved toward the main hall.

Each step felt like it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts, the fear and the thrill mixing into one knot in your chest. You kept your movements calculated, making sure not to make a sound, but the pulse of urgency in your veins kept you moving forward.

The door was just ahead. The world outside, with all its uncertainty, seemed closer than ever. But the closer you got, the more the reality of what you were doing hit you. Leaving meant breaking free, but it also meant leaving behind the life you had known with Yunho. The consequences weren’t clear, but you couldn’t stay locked away any longer.

You reached the door, your hand on the handle. This was it.

As you slowly turned the handle, the door creaked open with a soft groan, the air on the other side feeling cooler, more open. You paused, a cold shiver running down your spine.

It was too quiet.

No distant sound of Yunho’s voice, no hint of movement from upstairs—just the stillness of the house pressing in on you. The quiet felt unnatural, unsettling.

You took a cautious step forward, then another, but the silence seemed to swallow each footfall. Something didn’t feel right.

It wasn’t the usual peace you’d grown used to—it was an eerie stillness, as if the house itself was holding its breath, waiting.

You stopped at the threshold, torn between the pull of freedom and the heavy feeling creeping in. Something told you to turn back, but the door was already half-open, the world beyond it just a step away.

“Get. Back. Now.”

The command hit you like a punch to the gut, cold and sharp, and your body froze in place.

It was Yunho. His voice was low, steady, yet it carried a weight that felt impossible to ignore. You could hear the anger behind it, the control, the edge that made every muscle in your body lock in place.

For a moment, you stood there, paralyzed by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door was still ajar, the outside world just within reach, but now it felt like you were trapped between two worlds.

Slowly, you turned around, meeting his gaze. Yunho was standing at the top of the stairs, eyes dark and unblinking, his expression unreadable but full of something fierce, something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Did you really think you could just walk out?” His voice was quieter now, but the danger in it made your heart race.

You swallowed, the weight of everything crashing down on you. The door behind you felt like an escape, but his presence, the tension in his gaze, made it feel like a trap.

His words sliced through the stillness of the moment, sharp and venomous. “Close the door, pretty girl.”

The command sent a chill down your spine, and without thinking, you obeyed, your hands shaking as you gently pulled the door shut. The sound of it closing felt final, like a door shutting on everything you’d hoped for.

Before you could even process what was happening, Yunho was there, moving swiftly toward you. His expression was cold, darker than you’d ever seen, and his presence seemed to fill the entire space.

“You broke a rule,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with an unmistakable threat. “You know what that means.”

Before you could react, he scooped you up with alarming force, throwing you over his shoulder as if you were weightless. Panic surged through your body, and you tried to struggle, but his grip was unyielding.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a growl as he carried you, your body pressed against him. The walls of the house seemed to close in, and with every step he took, the weight of your actions settled heavily in your chest.

Yunho couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that his perfect doll was trying to leave him. 

The words rushed out of your mouth in a desperate, pleading tone. “Please! I am sorry, I am sorry!” You tried to wriggle free, but his hold on you was firm, unrelenting.

Yunho didn’t even glance at you as he walked toward the bedroom, his expression cold, as if he’d already made up his mind.

“I thought I taught my princess well,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “Guess I need to be less nice next time.” He shook his head as he reached the bed, and in one swift motion, he threw you down onto the soft surface. The sudden impact left you breathless, and for a moment, you could only stare up at him, heart racing, chest tight with anxiety.

The air between you two was thick, and you could feel it—he was angry. You had crossed a line, and he wasn’t about to let it go easily. His eyes never left you as he stood over the bed, looming, as if deciding what to do next.

In that moment, you felt small, vulnerable, and trapped.

He crawled on top of you, straddling your hips as he pulled something out from under a pillow. A pair of handcuffs and a ball gag. 

“No! Please stop!” your eyes widened as you shook your head, putting your hands in front of yourself. 

His voice was dangerously calm, a stark contrast to the storm that swirled in his eyes. “Be a good little girl for me, okay?”

The question wasn’t really a question at all—it was an expectation, one you had no choice but to meet. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and for a moment, all you could do was nod, your chest tight with the tension that had built between you.

He grabbed your wrists, clipping on the silver cuffs. Then, with a focused expression, he slipped the gag into your mouth, tightening its leather straps behind your head.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with tears, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. The weight of what you had done hung over you, and you could feel the fear tightening in your stomach. You knew, deep down, that you had messed up, and there was no escaping the consequences that would come.

“Tears won't make me change my mind,” Yunho said firmly as he rolled up your skirt, a determined look in his eyes. His hand gripped on your thigh, his long fingers tracing small circles on your exposed skin as he slowly moved to position himself.

“Daddy needs to remind you what happens when you disobey, y/n” Yunho repeated, his tone low and authoritative. His hand moved from your thigh to your jaw, gripping it firmly as he pulled you close. “I wanted what's best for you, and this is what I get in return?!” he continued, his eyes locked on your face with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

He eagerly pulled down his pants, pulling your lace panties to the side. “Don't you dare make a sound,” he murmured, hovering above you.

Yunho's actions were deliberate, and he paid no mind to the lack of preparation. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't about to let something like that stop him.

Your efforts to squirm and resist were futile as Yunho held you firmly in place, his grip strong and unyielding. 

“Gonna fuck you so good..that's what you're for. My personal fuckdoll to use whenever I feel like.”

Yunho's frustration grew as he heard your whine and felt you attempt to close your legs. His growl of impatience only got stronger, his grip on you tightening. “Don't you dare close your legs,” he growled, “spread 'em.”

You shook your head, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

A sharp smack suddenly echoed through the room as Yunho's hand came down on your cheek, a harsh and unexpected response to your plea. The sting stung, leaving a faint red mark on your skin, a sign of his frustration and dominance.

You felt tears roll down your cheeks, before sensing a subtle pressure at your opening.

“Don't make me hit you again,” Yunho warned, his voice dangerously low. His expression was a mixture of determination and frustration, and in one fluid motion, he pressed forward, sinking into your tight heat. 

A gasp escaped your lips as the burning pain struck without warning, your body jerking and arching in response. The searing heat shot through you, leaving a trail of raw agony that seemed to freeze time itself. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught between the shock and the unrelenting sting that pulsed through your every nerve.

“So pretty y/n, my pretty little girl..” A low, almost guttural moan escaped his lips as he spoke, a mixture of praise and wonder in his voice. He stared at you with dark eyes, taking in the image of you beneath him.

You laid there, your wrists cuffed and your once-perfect hair now tangled and disheveled. His hands slid down on your hips, the hold almost bruising. 

“Want daddy to stop, baby?” Yunho's voice was laced with mock concern as he spoke, his pout exaggerated and the look on his face a clear indication that he had no intention of stopping. His eyes were trained on your face, taking in the streaks of mascara that trickled down your cheeks.

He pulled back slowly, only to slam back into you, making your body jolt forward. 

You felt the tip of his cock bruise your cervix, the pain so diabolical you choked on a sob and dug your nails into your palms. 

“Aw did it hurt, princess?” he asked again, the repetition of the question almost mocking, “is daddy's cock too much to take? Too big for your tight, pretty little pussy?” his fingers traced a path over your body, before performing the piercing thrust again. 

Your back arched off the bed, your hands shaking from the intense sensations coursing through your body. Yunho set up the same relentless pace, his own pleasure apparent in his expression. He took in the image of you, the arch in your back and the tremors in your hands as evidence of the control he had over you. 

Yunho's head tilted back, his eyes closed as he let out a low moan. He was lost in the pleasure, his focus solely on the sensations flooding through him.

He lifted your hips, holding them in the air as he pounded into you, dangerously deep with that angle. Your soft cries and whines spilled out, though muffled by the rubber gag seated in your mouth.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, so tight,” he breathed out, leaning over you and looking into your red, puffy eyes. 

“You're beautiful like this, my precious y/n,” a whisper, warm against your neck, but still sending a shiver down your spine. 

You whimpered, the pain crashing over you in waves, too much to bear. “Look at me,” Yunho commanded, his voice deep and unwavering, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. It cut through the fog of agony, pulling your focus, demanding your attention despite the searing discomfort.

You met his gaze, locking onto his dark eyes. The intensity in them was unnerving, the look almost psychotic—dangerous, wild, like he could see straight through you, unraveling everything. It sent a chill down your spine, the heat of the pain momentarily forgotten as his eyes held you captive.

His voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it as he leaned in, his breath ragged. “If I take it off, do you promise you’ll be good?” he asked, sweat clinging to his hair, dripping down his forehead. His gaze moved to the ball gag in your mouth. 

You nodded immediately, and Yunho paused for a moment, his hand lifting up your head with a firm yet gentle motion. Without a word, he moved swiftly, his fingers working to unbuckle the gag with precision. 

He tossed it aside with a swift motion, and for the first time, you were able to close your mouth. The relief was instant, but it left you swallowing the excess saliva that had built up, the sensation oddly grounding after the tension of the moment. 

“What a good doll.”

Yunho's gaze was unwavering as he continued with his quick and deliberate pace. He kept his eyes on your face, watching your expressions intently, enjoying the sight of you writhing and whimpering beneath him. 

“Who do you belong to?” he growled, his voice thick with raw intensity. His movements grew jerky and uncoordinated, as if the demand was unraveling something inside of him, pushing him to the edge. 

“Y-you…” you whined, your voice trembling as you sniffled, the words barely escaping your lips. The mix of pain and desire in the air made it hard to focus, but you knew what he wanted. Every part of you was raw, vulnerable in his presence.

“Exactly,” Yunho chuckled darkly, his voice low and almost predatory. His hand moved to your throat, fingers tightening just enough to send a shiver down your spine, a mix of power and control settling in the air between you. 

“And you deserved this, right?” he asked, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction as he tightened his fingers around your throat, the pressure a reminder of his control. 

“Yes,” you choked out, the word strained as you swallowed hard, the pressure around your throat making it difficult to breathe. 

“Yes what?” he raised his eyebrows. 

“Yes daddy,” you sobbed, gasping for air. 

“Good girl,” Yunho smiled, his voice softening for a moment as he released his grip on your throat. 

Yunho's eyes shut tightly, his pace increasing to a quick and desperate rhythm. The change in speed caused a sharper cry to escape your lips as your hands balled info fists. 

“Fuck..fuck..” Yunho groaned, biting his lip. “Open,” he ordered, his eyes still tightly closed as if lost in the moment. His voice held an undeniable command and bit of desperation. Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and stuck your tong out, anticipating his next move, your body responding before your mind could fully catch up. 

He quickly pulled out, gripping his aching cock as he aimed at your tongue. A high pitched moan escaped his lips as he shoot strings of hot cum on your tongue, painting it white. 

“Swallow,” he said simply, his gaze never leaving you, dark and unwavering. 

You immediately swallowed the salty substance, your body trembling with the effort as you stuck out your now clean tongue, the act almost instinctual in response to his command. The tension in the air still hung heavy, your submission clear in the way you followed his every move without question.

“Such a good girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with approval. His thumb gently wiped away the excess seed from your bottom lip, the soft motion a contrast to the intensity in his eyes. Each touch felt like a reward, a subtle reminder of his control and your obedience.

“You know,” he mumbled, pulling his sweatpants back up with a slow, deliberate motion. “Only I know what’s best for you,” he added, his voice low and steady, the words lingering in the space between you. 

“Understand?” he asked, his voice sharper now, a bite of command cutting through the air. “You can’t do anything yourself,” he continued, his gaze unwavering as he unlocked your handcuffs. His hands moved to gently rub your sore wrists. 

You nodded, your body still trembling as he wiped away your tears, his touch soft and reassuring. His fingers combed through your hair, the gentle gesture almost soothing amidst the chaos. 

Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to the bathroom, ready to clean you up, his presence a steadying force in the aftermath.

After you were clean again, he dressed you carefully, his movements tender as he ensured you were comfortable before gently placing you on the bed. You were sore, exhausted, every part of you aching with the weight of what had just passed. It was clear—Yunho knew exactly what was best for you. He lay down beside you, pulling you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a protective shield, offering a sense of calm after the storm.

“I love you, my precious little girl,” he mumbled against your soft hair, but there was an edge to his voice now, something darker, like a warning. His grip on you tightened, possessive and unyielding, as if the words were more of a claim than a comfort. The room felt colder, the silence thicker, and you could sense the weight of his gaze still on you even as you closed your eyes. It wasn’t reassurance—it was control, and it lingered in the air like a shadow, heavy and unspoken.

[unacknowledgeable]

For the SK reader series, will the reader get a love interest?? Because there's something so dark yet hypnotic when u find someone who doesn't want you to change, they accept you as you are, worms and all. Something akin to Hannibal and Will Graham if you get me.

Anyways, just wanted to say your series is so addictive and I can't wait to read more!

Y’know, I've thought about love interests so much this week, because ppl seem very interested in me introducing one and I genuinely can't decide which one I like the most, because I find them all utterly hilarious. 

For the “so what are we” Gothamite, think Mikasa from DeathNote lol. Those are the major vibes I'm getting from them, and I just jotted down some conversations I imagined. I'll just call them the ‘Near Victim Interest’ lol. 

SK!Reader: “I will rip your intestines out through your mouth and dance the night away with them lining my neck”

NV!Interest: “Oh dear god…Baby you promise?”

SK!Reader: “...What?” NV!Interest: “What?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “That is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

SK!Reader: “I literally said I was going to split your head in half starting at the throat.”

NV!Interest: “Yeah, exactly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “Haha, sweetie is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see- oh i've been impaled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: (Laid out on the embalming table, having gotten into readers work place) “paint me like one of your crime scenes”

SK!Reader: “How… did you get in here?”

NV!Interest: “Oh the commissioner let me in once I told him we’re dating! Gordy’s so nice, right?”

SK!Reader: “Wha- Gordy?? Wait- we’re NOT dating! I don't even know you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, one of the other “love interests” I've thought about was someone within the same Elite circles as SK!Readers “Mini-Brucie” persona. 

They’ll probably end up looking at this ditzy, airheaded, charismatic moron and, for just a second, catches a glimpse of how truly calculated the twitch of your lips are, how your eyes flash in cold fury at the touch of hands dragging you around the room, how the precise snap of your words works the room in your favor, intricately crafting every conversion you’ve been dragged into under your control, but never to the center stage.  In the blink of an eye, it’s all gone and they’re left thinking, ‘oh I could make you so much worse.’

 This person basically wants to groom the reader into the next “big bad” of Gotham, or maybe into joining The Court, without realizing just how far off the deep end SK!Reader already is. It’s like trying to teach someone the alphabet, while not knowing they can already read at a college level. 

They want to mold you into the perfect mastermind, able to rival the likes of Batman on wits alone, and wish to chisel at your marbled potential so that they may unleash their magnum opus upon the unwitting populace of Gotham. 

But… you just aren't interested in using your intellect for more than what you are now. You're quite content with operating as you have been, thank you very much. You have no intention of disrupting your meticulously maintained status quo. So, it's safe to say that this is getting proceedingly more frustrating on both sides. This person thinks you're putting all your potential to waste, unaware just how capable you really are, meanwhile you're trying to get this pompous asshole off your back so you can continue business as usual.

And my last love interest idea was diving more into the Jinx aspects of SK!Reader and going full TimeBomb lmaooo 

~Masterlist~

[patrixjia]

Velvet Chains (Part I)

Plot Overview:

Y/N Y/L/N is the heir to a powerful mafia empire, but she’s always preferred playing by her own rules. When tensions between her father’s Y/L/N family and the Stray Kids mafia escalate, she finds herself kidnapped by Bang Chan, the unpredictable leader of the rival gang. What starts as a strategic move to shake things up quickly turns into a high-stakes game of power, wit, and dangerous chemistry. Will Y/N outsmart Chan and reclaim control, or will she get swept up in his chaotic world?

Warnings: Mafia!BangChan, Mafia!AU, Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Language, Power Dynamics, Dark Themes, Flirting, Banter, High Tension, Smut(eventually)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V, PART VI, FINAL PART

Author Note:

Hey everyone! So, after posting a poll on Tumblr, the results are in and… Chan won! 🎉 I guess y’all are as intrigued by his unpredictable charm as I am! 😏 So here we are, diving into the world of mafia intrigue with none other than Bang Chan. This story is going to be a wild ride, and I just couldn’t stop writing once I started (you know how it goes, right?). So, get ready for a few parts—yep, this one is going to be a series! 🤩

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I’m enjoying writing it. Expect plenty of tension, power plays, and some spicy moments to come. 😉

As always, please read the tags carefully and make sure this is your cup of tea before continuing!

Hope you all enjoy this as much as I loved writing it. Please feel free to leave your thoughts, comments, and feedback—I’d love to hear from you! 💖

⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆⋆⭒⋆⭒⋆

Part I

The jazz bar wasn’t exactly your style, but you appreciated the quiet. As the only daughter of Victor Y/L/N, the man who controlled the northern sector with an iron fist, finding moments of peace was a rare commodity. Your father had built the Y/L/N empire on a foundation of precision, discipline, and cold, calculated power. For three generations, the Y/L/N mafia had ruled this part of the city, their influence expanding through smuggling, money laundering, and intricate political ties. Everything had been meticulously planned. Every move, every person, every resource—it was all part of the machine.

Victor Y/L/N wasn’t just feared—he was respected. A master strategist who never played by anyone else’s rules. His empire was a fortress, and you’d been raised to understand that you were part of it. You knew the stakes of the game, the cost of failure. You had a front-row seat to everything that happened in the world of organized crime, but instead of becoming the dutiful heir your father expected, you’d learned how to operate outside of his rigid control. You weren’t just another piece in his game of chess—you were the queen, always calculating your next move, never just following orders.

You were his greatest asset—and his greatest frustration.

Victor had raised you to understand power, to see the world in black and white. He taught you how to read people, how to dismantle an opponent without ever lifting a weapon. From the time you could walk, you’d been groomed for leadership. But you weren’t like him.

Victor saw the world as a chessboard, and every person was a piece to be moved or sacrificed. You, however, refused to stay on the board. You wanted freedom, independence. You wanted to be more than a pawn in his endless games of control.

“Emotion is a weakness,” he’d told you countless times. “Empathy will get you killed.”

But you didn’t believe him. You knew that in the right hands, emotion could be a weapon. And while Victor wanted you to be cold and calculating, you had something he didn’t: charisma. People followed your father out of fear. They followed you because they wanted to.

This difference had always been a point of contention between you.

Victor expected blind loyalty and obedience, but you questioned everything. When he ordered you to marry the son of an allied family to strengthen his position, you refused. When he tried to involve you in his dealings with corrupt politicians, you went behind his back to broker your own alliances.

You weren’t defiant for the sake of it—you were strategic. You understood the rules of the game, but you played by your own.

The silence of the bar was unsettling, though, as it contrasted with the world you’d known your entire life. The thrum of power, the constant buzz of danger—it had always been there, but tonight something felt different. The shadows seemed deeper than usual, and even the bartender’s hands shook as he poured your wine.

You glanced at the open notebook on the table in front of you, filled with coded notes about your father’s rivals, including one name that had come up more than any other recently—Bang Chan. You knew the Stray Kids mafia had been a thorn in your father’s side for years, but the tension had reached a boiling point lately. The southern sector had grown too powerful, too unpredictable. And now, it seemed they were coming for you.

The Y/L/N and Stray Kids mafias had been in conflict for years. At first, it was subtle: small skirmishes, intercepted shipments, whispers of betrayal. But as Bang Chan rose to power, the tension escalated into an all-out turf war.

Chan’s rise was meteoric. Where your father relied on tradition and loyalty, Chan built his empire with innovation and ambition. He recruited the best hackers, the most skilled fighters, and the most loyal men, creating a network that outpaced even the most established families. His crew—Stray Kids—was infamous for their unpredictability and efficiency.

Your father hated him, not just because of the territory disputes, but because Chan represented everything Victor despised: a new, disruptive power that didn’t play by the old rules.

You’d never met Bang Chan before, but you’d heard plenty about him. He was ruthless, charismatic, and maddeningly clever. If your father was a chess master, Chan was a wild card, someone who could flip the table and still win.

While the Y/L/N family’s strength lay in its calculated, methodical approach, the Stray Kids mafia relied on innovation and unpredictability.

Your notebook sat open on the table. You didn’t need to be here, but the idea of slipping away from under your father’s watchful eye always gave you a thrill. You lived for moments like this.

Until tonight.

The first thing you noticed was the bartender’s shaky hands as he poured your second glass of wine. Then came the eerie silence—the background chatter fading as patrons disappeared one by one. You leaned back, crossing your legs under the table, and glanced toward the shadowed corners of the room.

“Alright,” you murmured under your breath, reaching for the knife strapped to your thigh. “Let’s play.”

Two figures stepped into the dim light. Han Jisung and Lee Know. You recognized them immediately—not just from reputation, but from the detailed dossiers your father kept on the Stray Kids mafia.

The Stray Kids were brutal, unpredictable, and far more cunning than anyone gave them credit for.

Where your father’s mafia was cold and calculated, theirs was wild and ambitious. It was no wonder your father hated them.

Han and Lee Know approached with an air of casual confidence, but you could tell they weren’t taking any chances. You smiled, a sharp, mocking twist of your lips.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Chan’s errand boys. Did you get lost on the way to the kiddie pool?”

Han snorted, clearly amused. “She’s got jokes. I like her already.”

Lee Know’s eyes narrowed, his voice low and measured. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Y/N.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Oh, honey. You’re adorable if you think either of those options work for me.”

Without warning, you lunged. The knife was in your hand in an instant, its blade glinting in the dim light. Lee Know blocked your strike, his movements quick and calculated, while Han stepped in to restrain your other arm.

“Cute,” Lee Know said, his grip like steel around your wrist. “But not smart.”

You twisted in his grasp, your knee coming up to narrowly miss Han’s side. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just getting started.”

Han laughed, despite himself. “She’s got fire. No wonder Chan’s so interested.”

That gave you pause. “Interested? Let me guess—he couldn’t find anyone else to stroke his ego, so he sent you two?”

Lee Know’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

You laughed, though the sound was more to cover your growing irritation than anything else. “How cute. You think this is going to be easy?”

The two men didn’t answer. They moved quickly, forcefully, but you fought back with every ounce of your strength. You managed to strike one of them in the ribs before they overpowered you and pulled your hands behind your back. It was the usual dance—the struggle, the resistance. But you knew this wasn’t just about you. This was about your father’s empire, and if they were here for you, then it was time to face the consequences of your father’s years of making enemies.

As Lee Know tightened his grip on your wrist, you resisted the urge to lash out. This wasn’t about you—it was about your father. Victor Y/L/N had a way of making enemies, and it seemed Bang Chan had finally grown tired of playing nice. Not that you cared. You’d spent years trying to step out of Victor’s shadow, but his decisions had a way of dragging you back in.

"You do realize this is going to piss off my father,” you said, looking at Han. “Is that the plan, or is Chan just bored?”

Han didn’t seem fazed. “Bored? Nah. This is business, Y/N. Chan’s got a point to prove.”

You scoffed. “And you think kidnapping me will prove it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Han said, his grin widening. “But it’ll get his message across.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Well, don’t take it personally, boys. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

Lee Know’s grip on your wrist tightened, but you barely noticed. It was the truth, after all. The moment your father found out, all hell would break loose.

The ride to the Stray Kids estate felt like hours, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d face Bang Chan. The southern sector and the northern sector had been in a delicate balance for years. Your father kept his enemies close, but Chan had always been an anomaly. He didn’t play by the same rules, and that made him dangerous.

You sat between Han and Lee Know, your hands loosely bound—just tight enough to make a statement but loose enough to mock.

“You know,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence, “this is a sloppy move for Chan. Kidnapping me? What’s the play? Ransom? Leverage? Or is he just looking for a date?”

Han snickered. “She’s quick.”

Lee Know didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “We’re not here to answer your questions, Y/N.”

“Of course not,” you replied smoothly. “That would require actual intelligence.”

Han turned to you, grinning. “You’re awfully bold for someone in your position.”

“Bold is just another word for better,” you said, tilting your head toward him. “Speaking of bold, is Chan still pretending he’s running the southern sector with brains, or has he admitted it’s all brawn and luck?”

Lee Know’s hand tightened on his knee, but Han seemed genuinely entertained. “I can’t wait for him to meet you.”

When you arrived at the mansion, Chan was waiting.

The estate was grand, modern, and cold—a stark contrast to the warmth of your father’s domain. The walls seemed to pulse with the quiet hum of power, and you could feel it as you were led inside. Chan was the type of man who demanded respect without saying a word. It was a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance.

When he turned to face you, you couldn’t help but appreciate the way he commanded the room without a single movement. His gaze locked onto yours, and you stood your ground.

“Well, well,” you said, crossing your arms. “Let me guess. This is about my father. What, did he steal one of your shipments? Break one of your toys? Seems like a petty reason to kidnap me.”

Chan smirked, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Petty? No. Let’s call it… strategic. Your father’s been playing the same tired game for years. He doesn’t realize the board has changed.”

“And you think you’re the one changing it?” you shot back.

“I know I am,” he replied, his tone casual but sharp. “And you, Y/N, are far too smart to pretend otherwise.”

He smiled—a dangerous, predatory curve of his lips—as he walked toward you. “You’ve built quite the reputation for yourself. Smart, strategic, ruthless when you need to be. You’re not your father, though, are you?”

You bristled, stepping forward to meet his gaze head-on. “No, I’m not. I’m better.”

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Chan tilted his head, his smirk widening. “I see.” He gestured for Lee Know and Han to leave, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can drop the act, Y/N. I didn’t bring you here for ransom.”

“Then what?” you shot back. “You looking for a chess partner? Because I don’t play games I can’t win.”

Chan chuckled, low and dangerous. “Oh, I think you’ll find this game… worth playing.”

You crossed your arms, leaning closer to him. “And what makes you think I won’t burn your whole empire to the ground?”

He leaned in, his voice a soft whisper. “Because you’re too smart to destroy something you’ll want to rule.”

The tension crackled like electricity, but you didn’t flinch. This was a battle of wills, and you weren’t about to lose.

[bestruction]

Flower's language

Summary: How you two stared to secretly date

Warnings: None

@enouche

Following his release from prison, Sasuke finally had the time to focus on the Uchiha district, a place abandoned and forgotten by time. At first, he couldn’t bring himself to face that place alone, so he called you for help. And how could you say "no" to him knowing everything that happened there ? Little by little, you found yourself drawn into the work, getting lost in the process of restoring what was left behind. After all, he had once been your friend— even more than that. Not that it mattered anymore.

Part of you was still hurt after everything that had happened, but another part understood what he went through. For all the good memories you shared, you promised to help him make the house more... livable. After that, you hoped to finally let go of the feelings you refused to admit you still had for him.

By morning, you were ready and made your way to the district, just as you had every weekend for the past few months. The main house—his house—still exuded a haunting stillness, as though frozen in time. The grandeur of the Uchiha clan lingered in its bones, but the absence of warmth and life was palpable. Each creaking floorboard and the faint rustle of wind through the broken windows echoed the loss and tragedy of the clan that had once lived there. It was a place both beautiful and melancholic, a physical embodiment of Sasuke’s memories and grief.

Today, you two had agreed on cleaning the garden and planting a few vegetable seeds that could be useful for him. 

It doesn't take long until you find him in the back of the house. You left your backpack on a bench and knelt beside Sasuke, your hands quickly brushing the earth as you worked to clear the area, pulling out invasive plants and cutting away dead branches.

You look around noticing how the once-meticulously groomed garden had succumbed to nature's reclaim. Stepping stones lead to a koi pond, now murky and overrun with algae. A stone lantern leans precariously to one side, and the bamboo fountain no longer flows. Wild wisteria and ivy climb over stone statues of Uchiha symbols, and the air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay.

Sasuke wasn't much to talk but he seemed particularly off, his broad shoulders stiffed while he focused on the task he was doing.

“Do you know what this is?” you asked trying to save him from whatever was happening in his head.

He looks at the small sprig of something you’d found struggling to grow amid the chaos “A flower?.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s lavender. In the language of flowers, it symbolizes calm and peace. Your mother might have planted it here for that reason.”

Sasuke paused in his work, his gaze flickering to the delicate sprig in your hand. “The language of flowers?”

You nodded, smiling faintly. “Every plant has a meaning. For example, the camellias over there—represent admiration and longing. And the wisteria near the gate is a symbol of endurance and devotion.”

He looked toward the garden as if seeing it for the first time, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know you were an expert.”

You laughed softly. “I’m not. But I’ve always liked the idea that flowers can say things people can’t"

He looked at you wondering if his mother thought the same. He remembered seeing her in the garden many times but the reasons for it now were blurry and lost in his head. Sasuke didn’t respond, but you caught the way his shoulders seemed to relax slightly as he returned to clear the weeds.

"What does this one mean?" He asks pointing at a single tulip he had found in the middle of the invasive herbs. You got closer to see it better, thinking to yourself it was unusual to see such a delicate flower in a wild scenario.

"Love," You say looking at it. It wasn't grown and its petals were suffering from the lack of care, but it still had the charm only a tulip could have.

"I thought roses were the flowers for love," He said looking at what, in his eyes, was just a plant.

"Roses and tulips," You said caressing the dry petals "Roses represent love and its nuances, but tulips represent it as a whole"

His dark eyes were fixated on you and when you looked at him again, and in that short second that followed you gulped thinking he had grown into a handsome man. You coughed pushing away that thought and quickly said "Did you buy the vegetables seeds that we talked about?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna grab it"

You drummed your fingers on your legs, waiting for him to come back while telling your stupid heart to stop beating so fast.

He came back and the two of you set to work planting the seeds, side by side. The quiet companionship that had grown between you was something you cherished, but it was still fragile like stepping carefully over thin ice. As you dug into the soil, your hands brushed his. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you. You froze, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already looking at you.

"You didn't have to help so much"

“I know,” you said with a small shrug. “But I wanted to.”

Neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a taut string. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Sasuke leaned closer, his dark eyes searching yours. His long fingers brushed the dust on your cheek but not just that, he was testing the waters, and once you didn't move away, he let his fingers hold your chin before putting his lips on yours. It was tentative, almost unsure.

His lips were unsteady as if he was uncertain of how to give or receive this kind of tenderness. He placed his lips on yours, feeling the texture and taste of your toothpaste. You closed your eyes and his hand found its way to the back of your neck while his tongue finally entered your mouth to quickly meet yours.

Fuck, did he have to taste so good?

You hold his shirt pulling him closer, making him smirk in the kiss while you wrap your tongues again and again until the world seems to slow down its rotation just to make it last longer. You felt the soft scrape of his teeth against your lower lip, a gentle bite that sent a shiver down your spine. A low sound escaped you, barely audible, but he heard it. And god, if you were gonna whimper like every time he kissed you, he would do it until your lips were swollen or both of you were naked.

You break the kiss reluctantly, needing to breathe. Sasuke gives you a few more pecks, loving the way your mouth is wet, before pressing his forehead to yours.

"This..." You whisper not opening your eyes but you can feel his gaze burning on you "Doesn't change anything, hm?"

"Doesn't it?" He asks pressing his lips on yours shortly once more

"Sasuke..." You lean back, trying to create space between you and him but grabs your waist, anchoring you closer "You are not being fair to me"

The Uchiha's house wasn't the only thing stuck in time after he left, you were stuck in time too. Lock in the feelings you had for him and unable to move on. Then why the part of you that hated him was so easily folded?

"I know" He whispers knowing he is being selfish by not letting you put an end to this cycle "We can take things slow, huh? See if it still works out between us and if it doesn't..."

You want to say "no" but your head shakes in a "yes" before your lips can open and you hate yourself for feeling so damn hot at the way he holds you close now, nearly pulling you on his lap "No one needs to know, okay?"

"Sure" He nods, eager to make you stay "Anything you want"

You stayed there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of his touch, your heart warring between reason and desire. The garden seemed to hold its breath, as though the ghosts of the Uchiha district were watching, bearing witness to this fragile new beginning. Sasuke's grip on you loosened just enough to let you step back, but not enough to let you go. No matter how much you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you weren’t ready to walk away from him, and not from the chance that, just maybe, some things were worth saving.

[thefanficmonster]

Do you do NSFW? If so, may I request a Markiplier NSFW alphabet?

Hi dear! Usually I struggle greatly when writing anything NSFW for RPF but I shall do my best. Baby steps lol Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Markiplier x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: !!NSFW content below the cut!!

A= Aftercare (What they're like after the act)

Mark is the absolute sweetest and most attentive lover before, during and after the act.

After he's made sure you're alright, he'd go grab you a bottle of water, a snack and a towel to clean you up. You can bet on a long cuddle sesh after the act, filled with intimacy and romance, periodically interrupted by jokes he'd crack to make you laugh.

B= Body Part (Favorite body part of their own or on their lover)

He's pretty damn proud of his hands. Years of gaming have made them particularly skillful in many ways and he knows how to utilize them just right *wink* *wink*

Oh, and also his back. He's been influenced to love it by you more so than on his own accord but still.

On you, he loves your legs and thighs. Count on him constantly having his hands all over them in both innocent and explicit instances. And when you wrap your legs around his waist....consider him a goner.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Inside, no questions asked.

Before you got to the point of being comfortable enough for that, however, he found just as much pleasure in painting either your chest, thighs or face.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Nothing helps him excel at a game quite like under-the-desk head while recording. Bonus points if it's a live stream.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

Mark has had decent amount of experience, enough to be versed into how things work textbook-wise. Every skill he exhibits, however, is something he improvised at some point. But don't take that the wrong way - this man knows exactly what he's doing

F= Favorite Position

Mark is simple man and his favorite position reflects that - Doggy style (closely followed by cowgirl)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Oh this man is a majore league goof in general and during sex. That's not to say he can't get into character and dawn a serious and attractively intimidating front when the atmosphere of the night calls for it.

He's a perfect balance between goofy and serious, occasionally leaning far left or far right depending on the moment.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He takes care of his hygiene rather meticulously. He keeps everything neat, trimmed and clean.

I= Intimacy (how are they in the moment)

There's never a shortage of intimacy between you and Mark during the act. Regardless of if the night calls for making love or having rough sex, there's never a lack of intimacy and closeness between you two.

That being said, I'd again say it's perfectly balanced. Whatever the night calls for is how Mark responds - be it slow, romantic lovemaking or rough and dirty sex.

J= Jerk-off (do they masturbate and how often)

He used to do it a lot more frequently before you started dating. Now, nothing can compare to the real thing. He can't find much satisfaction in masturbating but he still turns to it as a resort of release when either of you is away on a trip

K= Kink (kinks they might have)

Dear God, please forgive me for this...

Choking, spanking, hair-pulling, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, light bondage, praising/degrading (depending on what the situation calls for). Feel free to share your thoughts on this topic in the comments

L= Location (where they're down to get it on)

Every single surface in the house is game in Mark's eyes. Especially the kitchen counter and the nicely spacious shower

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You, in any context you can think of. You don't even need to be dressed provocatively in any way shape or form. This man is just so head over heels for you, he can't help it.

Apart from that, a good ol' rage game will raise his blood pressure just right and he'll proceed to blow off some steam with you. The same works the other way around - when he's high on the success of completing a game and he celebrates with you

N= No (what they're strictly against and wouldn't try)

Anything with violent and hostile connotations that could bring you harm in any way, be it physical or emotional. He loves you more than words can describe and just the thought of hurting you fills him with dread. You both like dabbling into the occasional impact play but nothing more than that, and never without a safe word.

O= Oral (are they more of a giver or receiver)

Mark is a big fan of receiving but he enjoys giving so much more. He does it for his own pleasure just as much as he does it to bring you satisfaction. He loves every aspect of it - your taste, the tangling of your hands in his hair, the sounds you make, the bucking of your hips. It's his own personal high. He could do it for hours if you'd let him.

P= Pace (what's their pace during the act)

Again, the speed setting Mark operates on depends on the atmosphere of the night. On the regular, he likes to take it slow, prolong the experience and uphold this bubble of intimacy around the two of you for as long as he can.

Q= Quickie (are they a fan of quickies)

Nope.

The Devil is into details and so is Mark. And it's difficult to appreciate the details when working with a small time frame. He likes to take his time, worshipping you the way you deserve in the most meticulous and intimate manner.

R= Risk (how risky are they/do they like trying new things)

Oh he loves a good unconventional and borderline public location where there's a chance at getting caught. Although he prefers the comfort of your shared house it doesn't cancel out his love for the thrill of some public fun.

As for trying new things, he's down to try everything at least once - unless it falls in the No criteria I mentioned earlier. All you have to do is bring it up and you can automatically consider him signed up and strapped in, ready to try it.

S= Stamina (how long they last in bed)

The speed may or may not directly relate to how long he lasts. He can get at least two rounds - a solid hour/hour and a half - under his belt before breaking a sweat.

T= Toys (do they own and and are they down to experiment with them)

I have a feeling there is a box, hidden in a dark corner of a closer or under his bed, containing a small collection of sex toys. If you're game to use him, he'd love nothing more than take them out to play.

U= Unfair (are they a tease)

To an infuriating degree. He'd even mock you when you whine, beg or get frustrated with his teasing.

It's music to his ears.

V= Volume (how loud are they during sex)

Mark is vocal but not loud.

He exhibits his satisfaction and pleasure with mainly sighs and groans, all at a pretty low volume. But he's also very expressive during sex - praising/degrading you accordingly or dirty talking you over the edge. All in a whispered or hushed tone that makes it all the hotter.

W= Wild Card

Remember how I said he's not a big fan of masterbating? Well, when he has to resort to it he has a certain way of making it much more pleasurable...

Photos and videos you two have taken during the act or right afterwards in your disheveled states.

It's his personal collection, safely tucked away in a dark hidden corner of his computer memory.

X= X-Ray (what are they packing)

I'm sorry, I can't. I just can't. I've sinned enough tonight LMAOO

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Name: Mark

Status: Permanently horny

Z= Zzzz (*yawn*)

I already mentioned a cuddle sesh earlier and I will now add onto it to say that, although he tries his best not to, he does fall asleep rather quickly and deeply. How could he not when he feels so much comfort with his arms wrapped around you. When he falls asleep to the sound of your breathing and heartbeat, it's the most peaceful slumber he's ever had.

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[watermelonlovershigh]

Long Awaited Punishment {part. 14} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

Not So Patient After All {part. 13} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: sorry this took so long. writing smut is hard enough but writing smut with a submissive man is even harder. i hope you enjoy. i tried my best to write a good sub/dom dynamic in this but i don't know if i did very well. let me know if you enjoyed by leaving your feedback and reblog. xoxo

This story contains: talks of kinky things, male douching, smut obviously, mild edging, face sitting, sub/dom, handjob, blowjob, pegging, crying from pleasure

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - subrry - bi!harry dom!reader }

word count- 3,214

Tonight's the night you finally get to 'punish' Harry by fucking him with your brand new pink strap-on until his mind is sent into another dimension, but not before teasing and edging him beforehand.

"You sure you're up for tonight? Just because we've had this planned doesn't mean we have to do it, okay. I wouldn't be mad or disappointed, at all."

Lounging in bed on Friday morning, you and Harry engage in some pillow talk before he has to get ready for work. It began with inquiring about each other's sleep and dreams, but took a serious turn when Harry mentioned tonight.

You nod your head where it rests on his shoulder and reply back, "Yeah, I'm sure. I mean, I'm a little nervous. I have played dom before but I've never fucked any of my subs. They wouldn't let me. So I've only tied them up or edged them. Like that one time I made that guy wear a cock ring while I rode him. Which, by the way, was pretty fun to do."

"Please, don't ever torture me like that. M' all for being tied up, gettin' fucked, even havin' my ass spanked, but edgin' for an hour with a cock ring on, while you ride me, I draw the line there."

You let a laugh escape your mouth. "Because you said that, I may just have to purchase a cock ring too, just for you."

Shrugging, Harry replies, "Eh, never said I didn't already have one. Just that I don't ever want you to torture me like that."

You sit up straight, your bed head framing your face, and ask, "You own a cock ring and didn't tell me?"

Now Harry giggles before turning serious again, "Hey, it's never been brought up. I wasn't keepin' it a secret from you. But um, on a more serious note about tonight, you don't have to be nervous, Y/n. Just be your confident self and remember what I did to warrant you fuckin' me. Remember I'd been a bad boy."

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

While Harry was at work all day, you took the opportunity to get things ready for tonight. This includes sterilizing the pink strap-on and tidying up the bedroom to create a more comfortable atmosphere. Not feeling up to cooking, a pizza was ordered for dinner just before his arrival home.

Upon Harry's return from work, he joined you at the table to enjoy the delicious pizza you had ordered before taking a thorough shower. This shower wasn't his usual routine; it was a pristine cleansing to ensure he was impeccably clean for the night ahead.

He meticulously shaved his bum to avoid you having to stare at his possibly hairy backside, and then used an extra douche he had kept in the storage space beneath the bathroom sink. Before partaking in anal sex, Harry always took the necessary steps to cleanse himself. The mere thought of accidentally getting shit on his partner was enough to make him cringe.

After completing his grooming routine, he thoroughly washes his body and exits the shower, drying himself off and putting on only a pair of underwear. Harry then leaves the bathroom and entered the bedroom where you had arranged everything. He gasps in amazement, expressing, "Wow!".

You nervously look up at him and question, "It's not too much is it? I.... I wanted to make the room all cozy for us."

Harry shakes his head before approaching you, gently placing his hands on each side of your face. Speaking softly, he reassures you, "No, it's perfect, baby. I appreciate the effort you've put into tonight. It makes me feel really comfortable with you and what we have planned. Thank you, m'love." He leans in to give you a tender kiss, causing you to melt at his touch, momentarily losing track of your responsibilities for the evening.

Before things get too heated, you pull away and think to ask before things get started, "Do you have a safe word, Harry?"

"Mhm, it's cherry. You know, because cherries are red, red means stop."

With a clap of your hands, a switch flips in your brain, triggering a surge of dominance. "Excellent. Climb on the bed and place your hands above your head. I won't tie you up, at least not for now. Just remember to keep your hands to yourself, no touching, understood?"

Harry answers with a meek, "Yes." and does as instructed. Before joining him on the bed, you stand off to the side and begin stripping your clothes off, revealing what you have underneath. A pair of black lingerie. It's nothing too extreme but it does make you feel slightly more powerful. After your reveal, you look to Harry and see his mouth has dropped open and his eyes become darker. You can also see the large dent he's made in his briefs.

You kneel on the bed, positioning yourself between Harry's legs. Placing your hands on his meaty thighs, you glide your hands up and down, moving higher and higher each time, nearly touching him where he needs it most. You notice his struggle as he refrains from touching you, wanting to bring you to his aching cock but doesn't as he wants to please you and be a good boy.

Harry is fixated on your hands, hoping you'll shift just a bit higher. The suspense is tormenting him. He believes he's never been so aroused in his whole life. It's so intense that it's causing him physical discomfort. His testicles are pulsating from being so engorged with semen, and the extent to which his erection has expanded is becoming excruciating in his underwear.

Recognizing the unease Harry's in, you make the decision to reposition your hands and place them directly on his stiffened cock. You cradle his junk in your hands, still atop his underwear, and he sighs with relief from the momentary comfort it offers. Slowly, you glide your palms up and down the fabric, noting the rise and fall of his stomach. You continue this action for another minute before feeling restless and eager to transition into more of the fun stuff.

You halt your hand, and before Harry can express his discontent at your pause, you grasp the waistband of his underwear and lower it. His erection springs up, revealing his lower abdomen glistening with precome. "Aww, does my poor baby want me to touch it? To make it feel better?" you inquire in a mocking tone.

"Please, baby. Hurts s'bad!" Harry's immediate response reveals that he's fallen under your spell. His voice has become higher in pitch, indicating his vulnerability and submission. Unlike your past submissive partners who sometimes had a hard time fully submitting in front of you, Harry has quickly embraced his submissive role tonight, making you feel honored and content. Happy he feels safe enough to let go fully and be in a different headspace altogether with you.

You toss his briefs onto the ground to deal with later, then choose to end his discomfort. You lean towards Harry's lap, allowing a lengthy strand of saliva to flow from your mouth and observe as it trickles down his pulsating penis. He moans at the sensation of your warm spit sliding down his cock. You use your right hand to gently stroke his erection, spreading your saliva along his entire shaft.

Harry wishes for more but decides to keep his thoughts to himself, allowing you to do as you please. He's considerate of your wishes and refrains from interfering, despite his deep-seated urge to grab your hair and shove your mouth down on his cock.

Once you have dedicated time to pleasuring him with your hand, the desire to take him into your mouth becomes more compelling. You lower yourself, positioning your knees beneath your body, and carefully ease him into your mouth. Harry is the largest you've ever encountered, making it challenging to take him fully without experiencing pain. You begin to move your head in a rhythmic motion while using your hands to stimulate the portion that cannot fit in your mouth. As his breathing becomes more intense, it's apparent that he's nearing climax, and so, you withdraw yourself.

"Hey," Harry scolds, missing the touch you just had on his cock.

Looking up with a reassuring smile, you reply, "Shh, no whining. I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby." Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck down, lifting his scrotum in one hand, and allowing your tongue to lap at his puckering hole.

"Oh, God damn!" His expression of pleasure through profanity arouses you, causing you to subconsciously stimulate your clitoris with the heel of your foot that's tucked beneath your body. You knew of Harry's enjoyment with having his ass played with, but you didn't fully comprehend the extent of his passion for it. You're thankful he maintains good hygiene, otherwise, you wouldn't be engaging in this activity right now.

Before psyching yourself out, after licking around his shaven rim a few more times, you use both your thumbs to open his hole and insert your tongue. You thrust your tongue in and out of his anus, making him crumble in response. Despite not touching his dick, Harry believes he could achieve a hands-free orgasm with enough time like this. However, he's certain you wouldn't permit it.

Once his hole is nice and wet with your saliva, you pull away and announce, "Okay, time for the strap-on."

Though Harry's mind is beginning to become fuzzy, he's still courteous enough to ask, "Are you wet enough, m'love?", knowing the type of strap-on you bought doesn't have a harness on your end, rather a bulbed part that goes inside you and a suction part that goes over your clit.

In a cheeky manner, you reply, "Why don't you find out." Though there's heaviness in his limbs, Harry is about to sit up and comply with your request. However, you start to crawl up his body and kneel over his face. He looks up at you with his big, green eyes, as if he can't believe you're about to sit on his face.

Despite your panties still covering your damp pussy, you proceed to lower yourself, allowing your cunt to make contact with his mouth. Harry extends his tongue out and traces a wet path along your core, prompting a moan to escape your lips. He then begins to suck on the area where he believes your clit is located under the black fabric, and his mouth fills with the juices that have soaked into your underwear.

It's Harry that's moaning now. Popping his mouth off of you for a second, he mutters, "Fuck, you are soaked."

As he prepares to resume eating you out over your panties, you decide to withdraw. Although his mouth would have provided immense pleasure, your anticipation for the main activity of the night is growing. "I need to fuck you, now." Harry, in a state of a blissful daze, simply nods in agreement, ready to follow your lead. He observes from his position as you discard your black lingerie onto the floor alongside his briefs. Then watches as you reach for the lube and strap-on from your nightstand.

You get back on the bed and instruct your boyfriend, "Get on all fours for me." He follows your instructions, getting into the submissive position known as doggy. Even though he's feeling vulnerable, he trusts and feels safe with you. The last time he was in this position was with a guy he met on a dating app months ago, getting his back blown out.

Before you begin, Harry decides he wants to watch you insert your end of the toy inside you cunt. "Wait, can I watch you put it in yourself?"

"Yeah, baby. Of course." You make your way to the top of the bed, and Harry turns his head to the side as you begin to gently insert the egg-shaped ball into your body. The initial tightness gives way to a sense of relief once it's completely inside your wet pussy. Harry's limbs tremble from his position, despite you not having touched him yet with the toy. The mere act of you placing the toy inside yourself has awakened a strong feeling of arousal, adding on to the several times he almost had orgasms but was edged before he actually came. "Now it's your turn," you state matter-of-factly.

Carefully, you slide back behind his body and grab the lube. You're fortunate not to have needed it for yourself, as your body produces its own lubrication, but Harry doesn't share that advantage. You apply some of the clear, slimy, liquid to the lengthy toy that's inserted in you on one end and carefully spread any remaining lube around his rim. "Mhm, fuck!" His response makes you chuckle. You find joy in the way he seems to unravel with minimal effort on your part.

Once the toy and his bum are properly lubricated, you confirm, "Sure you're ready? Let me know if it hurts at all and I'll stop, okay, baby?"

"Yes, please, just fuck me already!"

Because of his bold attitude, you pull your hand back and lightly slap his right ass cheek as a small punishment, but know deep down that Harry enjoys it. Then, you place the tip of the fake cock against his puckering hole and gently push it in while holding onto his narrow hips. You expected to feel more nervous when this moment arrived, but surprisingly, you don't. You feel powerful and confident. The role reversal of being in control and fucking a man gives you a sensation that is entirely new, and you love it.

The arms that were supporting Harry give way, causing him to fall onto the bed, with only his ass elevated and his knees drawn beneath him. "Oh my God, Oh my fuckin' GOD!" he exclaims repeatedly, recalling precisely why he enjoys anal sex. The sensation of something inside him brings immense pleasure. As soon as your hips connect with his and the toy is fully inserted, you pause momentarily to let him adjust. However, Harry doesn't require this adjustment, as proven when he begins pushing his hips forward and then rears his hips back, essentially fucking himself on the toy.

Witnessing his eagerness, you start to thrust. Initially, it feels unfamiliar as you're not accustomed to thrusting during intercourse. Although, after a few awkward movements, you begin to get the hang of it. Yet, because this particular strap-on is designed to bring pleasure to you as well, you soon realize the challenge ahead. The part that's inside of you is stimulating your g-spot directly, providing additional pleasure as you have to continuously squeeze your pelvic muscles to avoid it from slipping out while thrusting.

After about two minutes of thrusting, you suddenly remember that the strap-on is actually a vibrating toy. You remove one of your hands from Harry's hip and lower it to activate the on button. In an instant, both of you are uttering moans and profanities. The vibrating bulbed egg inside you, along with the outer part stimulating your clit, sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, causing you to slow down involuntarily. The overwhelming pleasure makes you want to remain still and revel in your impending orgasm.

"Dnt' Stop!" Harry's speech is slurred, indicating a significant alteration in his mental state. This situation scares you a tiny bit, as you have never encountered someone entering subspace, nor have you experienced it yourself. The entire scenario is foreign to you. However, you conducted some preliminary research prior to this evening to ensure that you would be equipped to assist him appropriately should the need arise.

With a shaky breath, you manage to spit out, "I’m not... not trying to. It’s just, I’m about to come. Holy shit!" Your body trembles as an overwhelming orgasm surges through you, leaving your ears ringing. Although you've felt pleasure from vibrators in the past, the one inside of you right now is stimulating your g-spot so intensely that the vibrations travel from your head to your toes. Furthermore, the vibrations sucking your clit enhance the intensity of your orgasm.

As you begin to come down from the powerful orgasm, the urge to remove the strap-on is strong; however, you decide to push your own boundaries for Harry's sake. The stimulation is overwhelming, affecting every nerve in your body, yet you take deep breaths to center your attention on your boyfriend's pleasure. Harry's been very well-behaved tonight, listening to your commands and not touching you unless you instructed otherwise. He's followed your every command. He certainly deserves to have a powerfully orgasm experience.

You begin to thrust once more, this time reaching around to take hold of Harry's painful erection. He tries to express his pleasure through moans, but only a faint whine emerges. In your desire to hasten the moment, your dominant hand moves swiftly along his shaft, while you maintain a focus on thrusting deeply and forcefully rather than at a rapid pace. You're getting exhausted by this point. Dominating is taking a lot out of you.

Harry's breathing becomes increasingly labored as his face is pressed into the pillows beneath him. His hands grip the sheets so tightly that they appear to be in pain. This is a side of Harry you have never witnessed before. It seems as though he has placed complete trust in you, surrendering both mentally and, soon enough, physically.

When you feel his cock twitch in your hand, you're ready to assure him that it's alright to let go, but before you can express this, Harry exclaims, "Gonna come, oh m'..." Suddenly, his back arches and his entire body convulses as he succumbs to his orgasm. As you continue to stroke him, you feel warm spurts of cum escaping his dick, coating your hand and the sheets below, and it just keeps coming. No wonder his balls were so swollen, they were about ready to burst with how full they were.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry experienced not only a penile orgasm but also a prostate orgasm simultaneously. While he's encountered this phenomenon before, tonights proved to be the most intense he's ever experienced. As the waves of pleasure continue to envelop him, he finds himself unable to suppress a sob that escapes his lips. Initially, you feel a sense of concern, but then you recall Harry mentioning that he occasionally cries when the intensity of his orgasm is overwhelming, reassuring you not to worry if it occurs.

Gradually, you withdraw your hand from Harry's cock as you sense it starting to lose its firmness, and ceasing the movement of your hips followed by promptly turning off the vibrations. With his head pressed into the mattress, he emits strained cries, his body shaking from the remnants of his intense climax. He looks so vulnerable in this moment that all you want to do is scope him up and hold him, tell him everything is gonna be okay.

You slowly remove the strap-on from his body, which causes him to cry out more intensely for a moment, and then you carefully pull your end out as well. Despite feeling just as drained as you believe Harry is, you understand that the dominant role comes with responsibilities. The key responsibility is aftercare, and you conclude that the first step in providing aftercare tonight is to help Harry calm down.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Aftercare {part. 15}

[novaursa]

Heya!!! Just saw you'd say you'd do nsfw alphabets! Could I get one for Aemond plz???

Aemond Targaryen NSFW Alphabet

- Pairing: female!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

A = Aftercare

Aemond may appear cold and calculating, but after an intense session, he’ll wrap you in his arms, whispering in High Valyrian as he strokes your hair. He likes to make sure you’re comfortable and secure, showing a gentler side few ever see.

B = Body Part

His hands. He takes immense pride in his skillful hands, both in combat and in bed. He loves using them to explore every inch of your body, watching your reactions to his touch.

C = Cum

Aemond loves the sight of you covered in his release, a mark of his claim. He’s not shy about being messy, but he’s meticulous about cleaning you up afterward, often with a wicked smirk on his face.

D = Dirty Secret

He secretly enjoys the idea of being caught or watched. The thrill of potentially being discovered drives him wild, and he might even orchestrate situations to bring you close to the edge of exposure.

E = Experience

Despite his disciplined appearance, Aemond is more experienced than one might think. He’s had lovers before but is highly selective, only choosing those he finds worthy of his time and attention.

F = Favorite Position

He loves having you on your knees, looking up at him with that defiant or submissive gaze. Dominating you from above, or taking you from behind, gives him a sense of control he craves both in and out of the bedroom.

G = Goofy

Rarely, but when he’s in a particularly good mood, he might crack a smirk or chuckle, especially if you do something unexpected that surprises him in bed.

H = Hair

He’s meticulous about his appearance. Aemond prefers things neat and orderly, which extends to grooming. He loves grabbing a fistful of your hair, using it to guide you exactly where he wants.

I = Intimacy

Though he can be rough and demanding, he has moments of surprising tenderness. During these times, he’s slower, more deliberate, his single eye locked on yours as if memorizing every expression you make.

J = Jack Off

He doesn’t indulge often, preferring the real thing, but if he’s been away or deprived for too long, he’ll fantasize about you in vivid detail, his hand moving swiftly as he imagines your warmth and the sounds you make.

K = Kinks

Aemond has a thing for dominance and submission, often mixing pain with pleasure. He enjoys pushing your limits, seeing how far you’ll go to please him. He also has a penchant for marking you, whether with his teeth, his hands, or more permanent reminders.

L = Location

He’s daring, enjoying the thrill of taking you in dangerous or forbidden places. A quiet corner of the Red Keep or the Dragonpit — anywhere that adds an element of risk.

M = Motivation

Your defiance. He loves when you challenge him, his blood heating at the thought of putting you back in your place. Conversely, your submission drives him equally mad, the sight of you willing and ready for him igniting a primal need to claim you.

N = No

He draws the line at anything that would cause you genuine harm. Despite his darker urges, he’s protective of you and would never cross that boundary.

O = Oral (Giving)

He’s skilled and relentless, taking pride in making you fall apart with his mouth alone. He loves the feeling of control, holding your hips down as he devours you, eyes never leaving your face.

P = Pace

Varies with his mood. He can be slow and deliberate, torturing you with every stroke, or rough and fast, chasing his release like a man possessed.

Q = Quickie

Aemond loves the thrill of a quickie, especially in risky places. He’ll take you against a wall or in a shadowed alcove, his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your moans.

R = Risk

He’s not afraid to take risks, enjoying the added excitement it brings. He’s careful to never endanger you, but the possibility of getting caught or being overheard excites him immensely.

S = Stamina

He has incredible stamina, able to go for multiple rounds with barely a pause. He’s almost insatiable, pushing you to your limits time and time again.

T = Toys

Aemond prefers using his own hands and body, but he’s not against introducing toys to heighten the experience. He particularly enjoys using restraints or blindfolds, amplifying your senses and his control over you.

U = Unfair

He can be a tease, dragging out your pleasure until you’re begging for release. He loves seeing you frustrated, relishing the control he has over your body and your desires.

V = Volume

He’s generally quiet, but when he’s truly lost in the moment, you might hear low growls or murmured curses in High Valyrian. He prefers hearing you, finding your moans and cries intoxicating.

W = Wild Card

Aemond is surprisingly tactile, enjoying the feel of your skin under his hands. He’ll trace scars, kiss bruises he’s left, and map every inch of your body with a fascination that borders on reverence.

X = X-Ray

Aemond is lean but strong, his body honed by years of training. He’s proud of his physique and the reactions it draws from you.

Y = Yearning

When he wants you, he can be relentless. He’s not above using his power or status to ensure you’re available when his desires flare, often appearing unexpectedly and sweeping you away without warning.

Z = ZZZ

He rarely falls asleep immediately, instead watching you as you drift off, his mind racing. He’ll eventually succumb to sleep, his body pressed protectively against yours, an arm slung possessively over your waist.

[btswithluv13]

Two Friends

bestfriend!Jungkook x fem!Reader

[fluff, angst, ongoing series]

teaser: Friends, just for now? 

warnings: alcohol, language, infidelity (kinda?)

recommended songs: Sparks - Coldplay // Night Bus - Gabrielle Alpin // Clementine - Wet

Note: I have been sitting on this for a while and originally wanted this to be a one-shot. It’s heavily heavily inspired by Love, Rosie so please be warned, it’s going to be angsty. Not sure how many chapters this will be but I have Chapter 2 ready to go after some editing and Chapter 3 in the works soooo, please look forward to it :D 

Chapter 1 - A Toast to the Bride and Groom

wc: 920

You've dreamt about this day, fantasized about it even. The wedding hall was beautifully decorated with carefully curated and meticulously placed flowers and soft warm lights illuminating the space. You take a minute to look around taking everything in and thinking how surreal this all feels. The pianist starts to play a melodious song making the atmosphere even more romantic. In just a few moments, everything's going to be different. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to control your nerves.

Jungkook stood by the altar waiting. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with his hair slicked back. It’s so different from his usual casual attire but still he is as handsome as ever. He looked nervous as he started scanning through the crowd. His eyes land on you and his expression eases as you offer him a gentle smile. You’ve always been each other’s safe place. 

You can't help but think about how much you and him have grown. It feels like yesterday when you and him met in middle school. You remember how he looked with his bangs covering his doe like eyes and how much he hated it when people would take notice.

You both kept to yourselves and so you hadn’t really talked to him before until some dumb kids started messing with you causing you to trip and drop the things you were carrying. Of course, Jungkook happened to be there at the right time. You thought he’d join in on teasing but instead, he silently helped you pick up your things and from then on you decided he was someone who had to be in your life.

You were happy… at least that’s what you tell yourself as The Wedding March starts to play and the bride makes her way to the altar to join Jungkook. There's a pang in your heart as you think about how things could've been.

In another life it would've been you standing beside him. It would've been you he was looking at with stars in his eyes, saying his vows and declaring his love to. Except it isn't and you thought you made peace with it. You told yourself It would be alright, at least Jungkook would still be in your life. At least, his soon-to-be-wife was nice... You tell yourself you'd be fine, you’d repeat it to yourself again and again until it would be true.

The ceremony goes by in a blur and it was finally time for the speeches. Of course you were going to speak, it’s your best friend’s wedding. Just get through it, it'll all be over soon. Your grip on the mic tightens as you prepare. There's a lump in your throat now and you try your best to swallow it down along with all the brimming emotions.

“Good evening everyone… first of all congratulations to both of you!” You tried your best to sound cheerful, your smile not quite meeting your eyes. “For those who don’t know me, I’m ___ and I’ve known Jungkook all my life and because I’ve known him all my life I feel compelled to warn you all. Please don't let Jungkook grab a hold of the mic! He will not stop singing, trust me I learned this the hard way.” Earning a light laugh from the audience and a playful glare from Jungkook, you continue.

“I am so lucky to get to know someone who shines as bright as Jungkook and everyone who has had the chance to bask in his light would know just how special he is. I’ve always thought that Jungkook’s bowl grew to hold more capacity throughout the years but it turns out, I underestimated just how much it would take to fill it…”

You look at him fully now, both your gazes unwavering. “and so as I have come to learn just how much kindness and love his heart has to give, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to give it back. I will always support you and your decisions. I love you, Jungkook.” There’s an expression on his face now that you can’t quite read. You wonder if you’re overdoing it, if the audience can sense the storm of emotions brewing inside you and the true intentions of your words… your feelings. You clear your throat.

“...like a sister loves a brother and so I'm glad he has you now,” Glancing at his wife. “To fill in his bowl.” Your voice falters a bit and not trusting your composure you end the speech by giving a toast to the bride and the groom. The crowd gives an applause and you see Jungkook mouth you a thank you as he wipes a lone tear from his face. You nod at him, tears also threatening to spill but you hold it in. It's done. The hardest part of this night was over and you feel the tension in your body ease up a bit. 

The night continues on with festivities and you decide to step outside for some fresh air. The moon's glow accompanies you as you reflect on what you were feeling. You've dreamt about this day, fantasized about it even… but that's the problem about dreaming, it's never going to be your reality if you don't act upon it. You love Jungkook and if you were brave enough maybe things would’ve been different. You come to the conclusion that sometimes loving someone means loving them enough to let them go. You'll be alright, you think this time, it's true. 

[moonselune]

Hey! I see some players think that Astarion changes in his tone when Wyll declares himself a duke (our bat boy loves power so much hahah). So, can you write about what would happen if Astarion found out that his beloved fem Tav is a rich aristocrat? 🤭 Have a good day! xx

Ahahahaha I had so much fun writing this and I hope you have a wonderful day !

Astarion x F!reader | Nobility

You and your companions finally reached Rivington, the outskirts of Baldur's Gate, after a long and arduous journey. The bustling village streets were alive with activity, but something unusual caught your attention. There, waiting in the town square, was a gilded carriage adorned with the insignia of a prestigious noble house. The horses, meticulously groomed, stood proudly, and the liveried footmen were perfectly polished, ready to serve.

Astarion's eyes widened as he took in the sight, a mixture of confusion and amazement crossing his features. "Darling," he began, turning to you, his tone incredulous. "What on earth is this?"

You took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable reaction. "That," you said, gesturing to the opulent carriage, "is my family's carriage. I believe I have been summoned to Lord Gortash's coronation."

Astarion blinked, clearly flummoxed. "Your family's carriage? And who exactly is your family?"

"I'm an aristocrat, Astarion, a Lady to be more precise" you admitted, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and determination. "I didn't think it mattered."

"Didn’t think it mattered?" he echoes, incredulous. "You’re an aristocrat, and you didn’t think it mattered?"

Lae'zel and Karlach, standing nearby, exchange amused glances. Karlach's hearty laugh breaks the tension. "Guess you’re not the only one with secrets, fangs."

Astarion ignores her comment, his attention solely on you. "You do realize you’ve deprived me of the joy of knowing I was courting a lady of wealth and status?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. You walked towards the carriage, talking quietly to one of the footmen. Astarion relaxed, believing that at least now he would be able to enjoy some luxury on this forsaken journey. But then he sees you shake your head and begin to lightly argue with the footman. You then abruptly turn away from them and walk back to the group.

"I have told the carriage to go, we will continue on foot." You announced to the group and Lae'zel and Karlach nodded happily, eyes fixed on the vampire who seemed to pale more than they thought was possible.

"You… you’re refusing the carriage? Are you out of your mind?" Astarion’s jaw drops in disbelief. He turns to Lae'zel and Karlach, seeking their support. "Am I going crazy, or is this utterly absurd?"

Karlach shrugs, grinning. "Personally, I prefer roughing it. Keeps things interesting."

Lae'zel nods, "Luxury breeds softness. Hardship breeds strength."

Astarion still looks at you outraged, demanding an answer for your ridiculous behaviour, and you sigh, "I don't like showing off my wealth. It draws unnecessary attention and separates me from the people we're trying to help."

"You don't like showing off your wealth?" He gestured dramatically to the gilded carriage, that was still lingering in case you had changed your mind. Though Astarion now looked like he was about to lose his. "Do you know how many people would kill for the chance to ride in something like this?"

Before you could even respond, Astarion started towards the carriage with fervour. "Well, if you won't show it off, I will! Imagine the envy we'll inspire! The-"

You quickly grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "-Astarion, no."

He huffed, clearly frustrated, and crossed his arms, sitting down on a nearby rock, like an upset child, grumbling to himself. "I can't wait to tell Shadowheart about this. She'll have a field day."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation, you crouched down to his level, holding his hands as he pouted. "Astarion, I understand you're upset, but this doesn't change anything between us. I'm still the same person you fell in love with."

Astarion sighed, his anger giving way to exasperation. "Fine, fine. But I reserve the right to be upset about this for a while."

You chuckled, cupping his face with your hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Fair enough."

Karlach watched the exchange with amusement, however, Lae'zel looked upon it with impatience. "Are we done with the theatrics? We have more important matters to attend to."

"Yes we are," You smile and stand up, pulling a begrudging Astarion up with you, "lead the way!"