#the wicked powers is exactly what i need right now

[redbowedblogger]

The thought of mer!prowl having to teach Jaz to hunt in @keferon 's post apocalypse ponyo au. Just like he probably had to teach his little brothers. Jazz not knowing what or how to eat. So I did a thing

"Prowl.”

“What-?” Prowl was frustrated. This whole damn mess was going on for far longer than he had ever feared. He needed to get back to his pod. His family. Those fragging humans and their twisted sense of ���mercy” had almost trapped him in a life of servitude and solitude. All over a little damage to his melon, nothing a proper mer healer couldn't fix, but clearly beyond their limited medical knowledge. And then everything changed when the wave had hit.

Calling it a wave felt a bit misleading. A miles high flood of oceanic rage that all but wiped the human city off the coastline and allowed for his escape. Their escape. This poor strange mer he had met in that box of stone and steel and glass. The one who had weak fins and an iron grip and no memory of the ocean. Jazz, who had been so excited to meet him.

He had been useful enough at the start. Practically hauling prowl along the dry rough pathways before they could reach the floodways proper and swim away. And it was handy to have one person with functional echolocation as they swam through the worst of the wrecked buildings, But after that he had unfortunately become quite the nuisance. Flighty and distracted by every flashy bit of detritus in the water, startled by fish a quarter of his size, and the talking. Relentless jabbering about everything and anything, occasionally bursting into one of those strange human songs, their tones and rhythm poorly suited for an aquatic environment. Prowl didn't really know why he had continued to let this stranger swim with him. Perhaps it was a debt of gratitude for helping him survive and escape. Perhaps it was his sense of duty, this jazz was ill equipped to survive on his own and had almost perished the first time they had hit a rip.

Perhaps it was because he was the only company in these waters that wasn't a bloodthirsty mutation, a shambling wretched gasping thing that was not mer not human not fish but some horrific combination of the three with their gangly limbs, razor claws and rows and rows of serrated ripping teeth.

And his singing was really good, when he chose the right song.

“Prowler I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?” jazz asked, his posture meek as he floated neutral in the water.

“Of course there is. Just grab something and let's go. We are losing daylight and i'd like to find somewhere safe to camp before it gets dark.”

Dangerous things swam in the dark waters.

“What do you mean?” Jazz asked, thoroughly confused.

“Jazz we are surrounded by fish right now. Pick one and let's go.” prowl gestured to the schools of shimmering fish surrounding them. They were swimming through what had once been a park, the vegetation on the trees now replaced with algae and budding coral growths, the streetlights crusted with barnacles, and what was left of grassy fields struggling to survive as crabs and rays scuttled among the waving green vegetation grazing.

“Yeah that. How do I know which ones are good to eat? And how exactly am I supposed to just ‘grab one' they are all wicked fast.” Jazz pouted.

Prowl closed his eyes and counted to ten, digging deep for the well of patience typically reserved for only the youngest pod members before facing the mer behind him.

“You're a mer. We are the top predators of our natural environment. Everything is good to eat. Well, most of it. Watch me.” Prowl instructed as he swam off a few clicks. His echolocation was still trashed and would be until he could get back to his pods healer, so he would have to hunt by sight. Spotting a fish he liked he swiftly maneuvered around the school, herding them towards an algae covered statue to separate them. With a powerful flick of his tail he changed direction to head the stragglers off and turn them towards the branches of a tree. With another casual turn he isolated the one he wanted and with an effortless burst of speed; caught it in his claws and ripped its head off with his sharp teeth.

Jazz was in awe. Prowl moved so fast! The speed and grace in his turns as he effortlessly put the fish exactly where he needed it.

“Woah! That was slick, man I mean slick. How’d you do that?” Jazz asked with an excited shout and a backwards roll. Prowl finished the fish with a roll of his eyes.

“Everyone can do that. You can too, I know you have the agility for it. It's no harder than those silly dances the two legs made you do.”

“I don't know…”

Prowl sighed. This mer, This clever, happy, sociable mer, had been deprived of nearly every aspect of life prowl took for granted.

No open waves to surf.

No territory to call his own.

No pod to care for him.

He couldn't even hunt his own food.

They had enough time before they needed to bed down for the night.

“Here let's practice.” Prowl offered as he flicked another fish from the herd. Except this time, instead of decapitation he clipped one pectoral and half of its tail fin. As he let it go the fish wobbled back into the school, its progress hampered. When the others zigged it tended to zag.

“Catch the fish. Use any trick you can think of. Flips, rolls, dives. Whatever. Just remember that sight hunting is all about focus. Don't take your eyes off your prey for a second. Catch the fish and you will eat.” Prowl instructed.

Jazz hesitated for a moment. Then the hollow call of his stomach galvanized him to action.

Jazz bolted after the lamed fish and something began to sing in his veins. That feeling started deep in his bones and radiated up to tingle just under his skin. It electrified every muscle in his body from the tip of his tail to the end of his nose. He had never felt so at ease in water. He could feel the movement of the currents and somehow he knew exactly how to play off it. He dove and twirled and the fish scattered in a fluttering cloud of silver. A flick of his tail and he separated the other half of the herd.

He smiled as zeroed in on his target.

This felt good.

This felt right.

This felt fun.

The taste of silver fish in his mouth had never been so sweet.

[aroacewolfic]

pov you already know what your reading in 2025 and now your only reason to live is to be able read that book

[chikaras-garden]

Batboys as your sugar daddy

What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader

Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

BRUCE WAYNE 💋

“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.

With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.

But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.

He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.

“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.

When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw. 

There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”

DICK GRAYSON 💋

Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”

Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.

“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.

“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.

His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”

You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.

But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”

“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”

“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”

JASON TODD 💋

Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”

You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”

“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.

In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”

You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.

“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”

When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?

TIM DRAKE 💋

“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done. 

Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”

She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.

“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.

So when you get back to your car, you call him.

“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.

“Tim—”

“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”

“Tim—”

“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”

🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05

[revelboo]

Found “True Romance” trying to look for Seeker Trine stories and finding your writing has been like finding an oasis in the desert. I’m hooked and can’t wait to see what happens next! Thank you for all of your writings!

Thank you for reading my silly stories!

True Romance Pt 15

Trine x Reader

• Sucking in a sharp breath when Skywarp nips you with his denta, you realize that everything’s shifted completely with your question. And Starscream’s head tips to study you pinned between his brothers. Lip twitching when Skywarp drags you tighter to him, hand splayed on your lower belly. Aware of Thundercracker pulling your hand to his mouth to brush his lips against your fingertips. Of Starscream’s optics watching the three of you, staring at you. “Is that what you want? To be possessed by my Trine?” He asks as Skywarp presses another stinging bite against you. As Thundercracker’s glossa brushes the side of your thumb and your brain feels like it’s short circuiting as what they’re asking sinks in and you heat in response. Because you do want this.

• “If it is?” You counter, arching on a breathy sound when Skywarp’s palm slides roughly up your body to tip your head up when he carefully grips your throat. Spike stirring behind his plating as Starscream watches you shift restlessly between his brothers, he’s snared by those innocent eyes watching him. Do you really understand what he’s asking? What he’s offering you? Being claimed, shared, and bred by his trine. “If that’s what I want?”

• “Star,” Thundercracker groans, wings flicking as his brother studies you. Not above pleading for what he wants and he wants you for their trine. A soft, warm mate, but not just anyone. You. He’s been watching you, how you snap back at Skywarp when he pushes too hard, you always have time for him, and you calm Starscream’s anxiety. It has to be you. You’re going to be such a good mate. A good carrier for them. Finally, Starscream mass displaces, climbs up, and stands over them wings flared aggressively.

• Venting as he shifts against you, Skywarp smirks against your throat. Knows he’ll have to wait his turn, but then, Starscream needs a good frag. Something to blunt that constant worry and the ambition that drives him to take risks. To put himself in harm’s way by antagonizing Megatron. “You’re going to take all of us, aren’t you?” He growls against your skin, servos gripping your chin and tipping your face his way. “Be a good little pet?”

• Breath catching, you remember the glimpse you’d gotten of Skywarp’s spike, that way he’d stroked himself, those wicked optics looking right at you. And even though that mocking ‘pet’ of Skywarp’s rankles you, there’s no denying the heat and need slowly spreading through you. Because you’ve gotten to know them, gotten attached to all of them. Not exactly a family, but you’re weirdly content here with them. One of them always reaching for you, holding you. Wanting. And it’s a powerful feeling to realize that they’re yours. All three of them. “Remove your coverings for us,” Starscream demands, still not moving closer, just standing over you. When you sit up, it’s with Skywarp and Thundercracker both helping you. And they’re all staring at you now. Thundercracker’s expression so hopeful it’s almost desperate, Skywarp smirking with his bottom lip between his denta, and Starscream, imperious as he waits, wings flicking slightly as you strip.

Previous

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[hsunrry]

you’re not the problem // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,7k

warnings: smut18+, praise, fingering, protected sex

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“can i ask why are you still hooking up with him?” he raised his eyebrow, when you said goodbye to your ‘friend’. “from what i can hear, he’s not even good.”

“he’s… good enough.” you mumbled, sitting next to him on the couch.

„good enough?” he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “that’s not exactly a glowing endorsement, is it?” he turned to face you fully. he know you already too well, being your roommate and best friend in one for already few years now. “besides, he’s not ‘good enough’. your vibrator when he’s already gone is.”

“shut up.” you groaned, leaning your head on the back of the couch. he smirked triumphantly and leaned in closer.

“you know, i can be good enough.” he whispered, his eyes flickering to your lips. “better than good enough.”

“maybe the problem is in me?” you looked at him, biting inside of your cheek. “i just… never properly came when being with someone.”

“never properly came?” he frowned slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. he reached out, gently tilting your chin up with his fingers. “that’s not right. you deserve to feel good, really good.” his thumb brushed softly against your cheek.

“maybe, but i… don’t know.” you mumbled, studying his face. “i feel like it don’t feel like it’s supposed to? maybe i’m… i don’t know, not turned on enough or-“

“or maybe it’s not the right person, or even situation.” he suggested softly. “you know, it takes more than just physical touch. did he ever talked you through it?”

“not really, no.” you said, his eyes never leaving yours. he scoffed, shaking his head.

“that’s lazy.” he murmured, his thumb continuing to brush against your cheek. “you need someone who’s willing to put effort in that.” he paused, his voice lowering. you just shrugged. he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered. “i could teach you, you know. show you how it’s supposed to feel.” his hand slid from your cheek trailing down your neck with a feather-light touch. “make you feel things you never imagined possible.”

“you think you’re that good?” you raised your eyebrow while looking at him. he grinned confidently, his hands continuing to explore your body slowly. “like you’ll talk me through it and you think miracle will happen?”

“words can be very powerful.” he murmured. “and coupled with touch…” his hand slid to your thigh, squeezing gently.

“it won’t change anything between us?” you asked, looking at his hand on your thigh. he chuckled softly.

“change anything?” he shook his head. “nothing has to change, sweetheart. just two best friends exploring a little… chemistry.” his fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh. you watched his fingers touching the hem of your sleeping shorts and you nodded. “that’s my girl.” he smirked, his hand slipping underneath the hem of your shorts. “let’s start, alright?” his other hand went on your cheek, thumb brushing softly on your skin. when you nodded again he leaned in even closer, his lips just breath away from yours. “first, let’s get comfortable.” with a gentle tug, he pulled you astride his lap. his arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against him. your hands went on the sides of his neck, your thumbs brushing his jawline. he hummed softly, clearly enjoying your touch as his hands roamed your back, applying brief pressure. “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“yes.” you smiled. a wicked grin spread across his face as he felt you relax in his arms.

“see? you’re already responding beautifully.” his hands slid down to grip your hips, guiding you to slowly grind against him. “now, tell me… how does that feel?”

“feels good.” you licked your lips slightly, feeling him hardening under you. he chuckled lowly, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours.

“good. but it’s just the beginning.” his mouth found yours with soft, but deep kiss. his tongue slid against yours. your hands went into the back of his hair, causing his groan. his heart racing as your hand tangled in his hair. “fuck, i love when you do that.” he murmured against your lips, his lips rolling up to meet your in slow, deliberate grind. he broke the kiss to nip at your bottom lip, his eyes dark with desire. “you have no idea how much i want you right now.” he said breathlessly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “i need to be inside you. i want to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

“please.” you whispered. he grinned, picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom. he laid you down on the bed, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively before he stood up to quickly remove his shirt.

“now, where were we?” he knelt down between your legs. “ah, yes, your shorts.” he pulled them down, along with your panties in one swift motion. he tossed them aside, drinking the sight of you only in your t-shirt. “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach before looking back up at you. “now, let’s get rid of the shirt too, okay?” you smiled with a nod. he let out a low groan when he took it off, his eyes roaming over your naked form. “so perfect.” he said, his voice filled with awe. “i’ve never seen someone more beautiful in my life.” he started pressing kisses to your collarbone and down your chest. you managed to take off his boxers in meantime, when you felt his fingers parting your wet folds. he slowly rubbed against you, before his digits slid inside you. “you’re so ready for me.” he murmured against your skin, his fingers moving slowly in and out. “so wet.” he added, his voice hoarse with desire.

“i need you.” you gasped softly. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean. he hummed at your taste, reaching to the bedside table for condom. you were watching his every movement as he quickly rolled it onto himself, positioning between your legs.

“okay, baby. here we go.” his eyes searching yours. “are you ready?” when you nodded, he pushed forward slowly, his thick length stretching you open. “fuck, you feel incredible.” he groaned, his face contorting with pleasure as he sank deeper. “so tight and perfect.” you moaned when he went all the way in. he paused for a moment, savouring the feeling of being buried inside you. “alright, baby. you feel so good.” he said, starting moving slowly. “fuck, this is heaven.” he pushed in and out of you, his pace increasing with each passing second.

“oh god.” you gasped. his arms sneaked around your body, pulling you closer. his lips were right next to your ear. he grunted with each thrust, his breath hot on your skin.

“you feel so good baby, so fucking good.” he hissed. “like you were made just for me.” his hips snapped forward, driving into you with newfound urgency. “is this okay?” he asked, his voice strained.

“yeah.” your hand went on the nape of his neck and you wrapped your legs around his hips. he groaned at the feeling, going deeper.

“just like that, baby. hold on tight.” he started thrusting harder and faster, the bed creaking rhythmically beneath you. one of his hands slid up to cup your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. “you’re so good for me, taking me so well.” you moaned, your head snapping back from pleasure. his hips slamming against your with increased force and speed. “that’s it, baby. let me hear those sweet moans.” he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “you’re mine now, all mine.”

“god, Harry.” you panted. he let out soft chuckle.

“mhm, i like the way you say my name like that.” his voice ragged from exertion. you could feel your orgasm slowly building and you knew all his words were working for you perfectly. “that’s it, come for me.” he sensed your impending release, his voice dropped to a low rumble. “let me feel those walls tighten around me.”

“i think it’ll actually happen, fuck.” you moaned, your back arching slightly. he let out a satisfied groan, his hips pistoning in and out with renewed vigor.

“come on, baby. milk me dry.” his body tensing as your inner walls clenched around him. he angled his hips, hitting that special spot inside you with every thrust.

“fuck, Harry, right there!” you moaned.

“yes, that’s it. take it, baby. take every inch of me.” he grunted, feeling his own release rapidly approaching. “come with me, sweetheart. let go.”

“yes, oh fuck!” you cried out. your whole body was trembling and your pussy started clenching around him as you finished. waves of pleasure were almost too much for you as he was still moving, prolonging your orgasm. he buried his face into your neck as he found his own release. he moaned, his hips jerking forward a few more times as he emptied himself in the condom. his arms still wrapped tightly around you as he collapsed on top of you. your arms tightened around his neck as your body was still shaking slightly from intense climax. he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kissed, trying to catch his breath.

“you okay, love?” he asked, his voice filled with concern and satisfaction. “that was intense.” he chuckled softly, his hands gently caressing your sides.

“fuck.” you chuckled breathlessly. he grinned against your skin, his arms slowly unwinding from around you. he carefully withdrew, his face frowning slightly.

“come here.” he said after throwing used condom to the bin, pulling you into the hug. “cuddles now.”

“thank you.” you smiled, looking up at him from his chest. he smiled back softly, his fingers idly twirling a strand of your hair as he gazed down at you.

“for what, love? the mind-blowing sex, or the equally mind-blowing cuddles?” he teased gently. you pinched his side playfully.

“that you showed me i wasn’t the problem.” you said. “but well, for both of this things you said too.” you chuckled.

“hey, hey, hey, none of that, young lady.” he said playfully, catching your hand and entwining his fingers with yours. “you weren’t the problem, sweetheart.”

[throughparisallthroughrome]

“Executive Privileges”

ceo!anakin x assistant!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: NON-CON SMUT, inappropriate workplace relationships/power dynamics, verbal abuse, degradation, face-fucking, non-consensual nudity, brief choking, face painting, dark content, MDNI

“Mr. Skywalker, you wanted to see me?”

You shut the office door behind you, your hands trembling ever so slightly against the door handle. Anakin said nothing; you could only hear the sound of his breathing from behind you, positioned at his desk no less. Your breath caught in the hollow of your throat, a prisoner of anticipation. Behind you, Anakin's presence was a gravitational force—immovable, intense, laden with implications that stretched far beyond the mundane walls of this corporate space.

Your fingers, meticulously manicured in a deep red that spoke a certain level of seduction, trembled against the door handle. Each minute movement was a betrayal—a subtle confession of the internal tempest that raged beneath your carefully curated exterior. The polished surface of your nails reflected a distorted version of yourself: fragmented, uncertain.

The chair was a silhouette against the vast window, city light fracturing around its edges—a throne of corporate power, of calculated vulnerability. Your eyes trailed down to his right arm, slowly moving in rhythmic motions at something you couldn’t see– Anakin's body moved with a rhythm both mechanical and organic.

But you knew what he was doing. Anakin Skywalker couldn’t be more unprofessional.

“Do you know why you’re here, L/N?”

His voice was a blade—serrated, unexpected. The gravel in his tone scraped against the delicate membranes of memory, peeling back layers of carefully constructed professional composure. You were unfamiliar with this Anakin, and his tone brought goosebumps to your skin as the fear set into your bones.

Each step was a negotiation. Your heels—those meticulously chosen instruments of subtle power—clicked against the floor like a morse code of anxiety. Tick. Pause. Tick. A language of approach, of vulnerability, of strategic retreat is always possible.

The chair before his desk was more than furniture. It was a threshold. A boundary between what was known and what was about to be revealed. You sank into it with the calculated grace of someone who understood performance was survival. Your legs crossed—an unconscious gesture of protection, of control. The soft fabric of your skirt whispered against your skin, a traitor to your attempt at composure.

“Answer me.”

“I- I’m sorry, sir. I’m not-”

“Goddammit, you dumb bitch–”

Anakin turned sharply, his brow furrowed in a deep frown, jaw clenched tight with barely contained fury, the silence amplifying the tension. His eyes trailed your figure slowly, drinking you in, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin as you became smaller and smaller underneath his scrutiny. You inhaled sharply as your eyes traveled, his laptop blocking your full view of what he was doing with his hand. But you didn’t need to see it to know what it was. The fabric of your skirt felt thin and inadequate against the growing chill, your hands shaking as you pulled it down, acutely aware of his eyes on you. There was no hint of a smile on his face– he was strictly business.

“By all means, don’t cover up for me now.” He chuckled slightly, his motions slowing as a wicked grin spread across his lips. Your thighs clenched– he noticed. “In fact–” he leaned further back into his chair, his voice taking on a more condescending tone. “Stand up for me. I want you to watch.”

“Anakin–”

“It wasn’t a fucking question. Stand up.” His tone was sharp, demanding. As his assistant, Anakin asked a lot of you. And he wasn’t exactly easy to negotiate with.

You stood slowly, the tension in your muscles a stark contrast to Anakin’s growing excitement, his grin widening as his movements sped up. Your eyes finally trailed down one more time, just as he wanted them to. His ringed hand was pulling ever so aggressively at his cock, the purple tip aching and leaking at his motions. He slowed once more after his motions were getting sloppy, edging himself from what he wanted– what he needed.

“Like what you see?” He groaned out, his tip becoming more sensitive at the second.

“Anakin–”

“Take your top off.”

“Anakin, please–”

“Again, wasn’t a fucking question.”

You gulped again, your eyes never leaving the motion of his hand stroking his cock, and you slowly but surely began to work at your buttons, your thighs clenched shut with an ache that you knew wasn’t good for you. As you worked at the final button, you shrugged the blouse off and stood before him in your bra, skirt, and Lou Boutins. He smiled at you again, a slow nod accompanying the gesture, silently urging you to continue.

You sighed again, your hands continuing to tremble as you moved them towards your back, meeting the clasp of your bra. Your fingers worked slowly, just like his hand on his cock, and you could tell he was unamused by your actions. Finally, the clasp came upon, and your t-shirt bra hit the ground before you as your nipples peaked instantly upon meeting the A/C.

“Mr. Skywalker, I’m not sure what I did–” He held up his left hand at your words, silencing you as his right continued its abuse of his cock.

“Never said you could speak. For that, the skirt must go. And you will know in due time what you did, sweetheart.” He motioned to the rest of your clothing, and you obeyed. You kicked off your shoes, feeling the coarse texture of the carpet against your toes. The skirt came next, shorter than what you would have normally worn, it met the floor with a thud as Anakin continued to watch.

“Come here.”

You stepped slowly to behind his desk, your thoughts betraying you despite the absurdity of the situation you were in. Anakin Skywalker was your boss–The CEO–and this disobeyed so many moral codes and HR protocols that your head was spinning. You could have left by no, could have said no, and quit and sued him. But you didn’t–you couldn’t. Not when this was everything and more you could have wanted from him.

“Get on your knees.” He commanded harshly once again, practically pushing you down in front of him with his left hand on your shoulder—his right bringing his cock above your face in fast strides, his pace increasing with renewed vigor as you watched him on your knees.

“Of course, you’re too dumb to know what you did–” He groaned out, his pace quickening and your thighs squeezed tighter against one another, “Don’t even think about going to HR, either. I can tell you enjoy this.” His voice was wavering, breathy as he spoke his threats.

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled, mesmerized by the movements before you.

“Y-you really fucked me over, you know that, Y/N/N?” His motions were getting sloppier by the second, his composure crumbling the closer he came to his release. “I-I had to reschedule with the fucking president–the fucking President of the United States–because of you. A-and you had the audacity–to walk into my building–looking like a slut–totally and utterly clueless about your fuck up–and then–” He stopped himself once more, letting out a breathy chuckle that was almost a moan, “And then you stop to flirt with some office boy. Don’t think I don’t know–”

“Sir–”

“Enough.” He covered your mouth with his hand, making you flinch under his touch. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m about to cum. Should be fucking grateful I’m even giving you that right now.” He grumbled once more, picking up the pace again.

You nodded profusely, tears welling in your eyes, and he cooed, his smile growing.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl, you just made a mistake. Happens to the best of us. And right now, I’m teaching you a lesson so you don’t make another.” You nodded at his words, a single tear cascading down your cheeks.

“Y-yes, sir.” You hiccuped, and he gripped your chin with his left hand suddenly, a low, guttural moan falling from his pink, wet lips.

“God, that was so hot. Open up.” He slapped the side of your mouth softly, and you did as you were told, opening it and sticking your tongue out enough for him to have a landing pad.

Anakin moaned louder at your actions, his voice coming to a small whine as the pace on his cock increased. With one final, long groan, Anakin leaned forward and gripped your throat tightly as he shot thick, white ropes across your face and into your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, your face dripping with his cum as he pushed his cock past your pretty lips and down your throat, aggressively riding out his own high.

You moaned as he fucked your face, the tears welling in your eyes as his cock seemed to soften at an excruciatingly slow pace in your throat. His movements eventually slowed, and he pulled past your lips, tucking himself back into his dress pants. His hand found its way to your chin, turning your head and humming as he appreciated his handy work.

“That’s my good girl.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Practice II

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You practice with your mums

You are a keeper.

You've been a keeper since you were a child. You were always going to be a keeper, deep down. One day, you are going to be the greatest keeper in the world. One day, you might even be the greatest keeper in history.

But right now, you are not.

You are just a girl in her backyard with inflatable people blocking your view of Pernille and her wicked shot.

She chips it over your line and you jump up to meet it.

Pernille and Magda aren't keepers. They have never been keepers. They will never be keepers.

But they're trying, for you.

They're trying to think like keepers.

"Do you think you organised them right?" Magda asks from the side," Your defenders?"

Today has been tactical training.

You'd seen keepers organising their lines at games before. You'd seen keepers throughout your childhood yell out orders before.

You'd never really been a yeller though. You weren't confrontational. You weren't loud. You weren't a leader.

"Well...I got the ball?"

Magda nods. "Okay. Let's run it again."

Pernille goes to take her kick again but squares the ball to Magda waiting in your empty middle. She shots in one touch and you scramble from where you thought the ball was coming from to get a brief glove on it.

Her shot is hard and fast but you manage to just graze it with your hand and roll it to the side.

"And now you've conceded a corner," Pernille says.

"Well," You pant, still laying on the ground," I couldn't exactly grab it."

"You need to trust your wall and be ready for the shot to come from elsewhere. Nine times out of ten, they'll send in a cross rather than a shot," Pernille continues," You need to be ready."

You're pretty sure your shoulder is bruised from the amount of times you've had to go to the ground with a ball.

Pernille used to pull back the power of her shots when you had a kick around but now she doesn't. All gloves are off and a few times you've felt a little winded after gathering one of her strikes.

But you wanted this so you're going to take advantage and repeat it again and again until you think you're ready.

Magda has been helping you with your tactics and it's with her that you find yourself now, staring out as Pernille waits to take a penalty.

"Half of it is guesswork," Magda says into your ear, standing behind you so you can both stare at your Momma," But when you're in a team, there'll have been analysis and things but right now, I want you to study the way she's moving. I want you to look at her run up and the way she's positioned herself. Some of it's subconscious. She doesn't even notice it but you have to."

You nod.

Pernille takes her penalty.

You go the right way and save it.

"Good," Magda says," But make sure you wait as long as possible. She's studying you like you're studying her. If you give an indication of what way you're going then they'll go the opposite direction.

You groan. "And everyone does this?"

"Not everyone," Pernille laughs," Only the good players."

You huff, pushing off the ground. "Alright. Let's go again."

You're hot and sweaty when practice for the day is finally over and fall face first onto the sofa.

"Hey." Magda swats you with a tea towel. "Shower, please. I don't need that sweat all over my new cushions."

"Leave me here to die," You reply, remaining where you are.

Magda's hands are on you, trying to roll you off but you go rigid in an effort to delay her. You lock up all your muscles and go stiff as a board and Magda has to bite back her own laughter at how stubborn you're being all of a sudden.

"Come on!" She says," Off! Get off!"

"No," You reply with a small laugh," If I move I'll get cramp."

"You'll got cramp because you've gone all stiff. Go and shower!" She tries to rock your body around but you refuse to even give her an inch to work with.

"No!"

Finally, she rolls you off and you flop onto your back on the carpet.

"I'm telling Momma!" You're up like a shot, running up the stairs.

Magda laughs after you. "I thought that if you moved, you'd get cramp!"

[holybibly]

Today's unholy hours, bunnies

"This is exactly what you wanted, doll. Isn't it? Just what you need. Am I right?" Yeosang whispered in your ear, his deep, husky voice sending a shiver down the length of your spine.

The sound of your soft, half-choked moaning rang out in the evening silence of the practically empty library. The corner behind the tall bookshelves provided enough privacy for the two of you at this late hour, hiding you from the staff and other students who might accidentally wander into the most remote section of the Ancient Korean Literature section.

Yeosang's sneering laugh is accompanied by a particularly hard thrust of his hips while his cold, hard hands press you more firmly against the wooden table.

"And what? I'm not going to get a single sarcastic comment from you to answer that, bunny? The cat's got your tongue."

Any attempt at a reply or contradiction is cut short by the powerful, deep thrusts of Yeosang's hips as he drives his thick, wiry cock deeper into your screaming, needy cunt. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that it practically knocked all the air out of your lungs.

You hated him. You hated him so fucking much, but the feeling was stronger than you. Yeosang was making you crazy, and trying to deny feeling attracted to him was just stupid.

You wanted to turn away from the wicked, sneering grin on the handsome blond sempai's face, but he wouldn't let you. Yoe kept your fierce, defiant gaze on his angelic face, digging his fingers into your soft cheek and covering your mouth with his palm, so that you could barely breathe, choking on your own moans as Yeosang continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Such obedience; I like you much more like this, doll~"

Your hands clutched at his shirt, crumpling the once perfectly ironed fabric, your nails scratching across his collarbones and the bulging muscles of his chest, leaving bright red scratches on his skin, when you rolled your eyes at the feeling of the orgasm that was about to come. Fuck, it was too good to be true, and you knew full well that you'd be kicking yourself for it afterwards, but fuck, Yeosang was fucking divine.

Who would have thought that your angelic sempai, Kang Yeosang, could be a real freak in bed?

You couldn't even make a sound of protest—just a whimper as he slowed his movements, denying you pleasure for the third time today. Fucking bastard. Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you squirmed in your seat, letting out a muffled, frustrated moan that was too loud, even though Yeosang was still covering your mouth with his hand. The sharp sensation of your orgasm slowly began to fade into a small, pulsating stream of pleasure.

You were so wet you were probably sitting in a puddle of your own slime, judging by the nasty squelching sound you heard when Yeosang's cock was halfway out of your cunt. The amusement that danced in his foxy hazel eyes was so obvious and only grew as you raised your tearful puppy eyes up to him, and your coarseness and defiance dissolved into a silent plea for him to finally let you cum.

"Oh, wilful little slut wants to cum? Not such a cheeky little thing anymore, Y/N, eh? I told you to be quiet, doll. If you want to finally come on my cock, be quiet; otherwise, I'll be the one who cum tonight." That's how deep and sultry his voice was; it was just illegal. How could you resist him?

You nod desperately at what he says, and Yeosang responds by smiling smugly. The sweet expression on his face hides his sinister intentions as he begins to move again, this time with an even harder and more brutal thrust. His taut balls slap against your pussy with each rhythmic movement, and you bite his hand, causing the handsome sempai to hiss slightly in pain.

"You little bitch..." Yeosang hissed, changing the angle of his movements so that the head of his thick cock was now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, and this time he had no intention of stopping.

You tensed, feeling the almost painful throbbing of your approaching orgasm, your eyes rolling back as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over you, shaking you to the core. For all your hatred of Yeosang, it was worth it. His cock was made of fucking gold.

His moans were barely audible as you clenched around his cock, his warm, thick seed staining the walls of your womb, and your pussy seemed to pull him even deeper in and hold him there, clinging tightly to the velvety length of his cock. All your senses were overloaded with pleasure, and every heavy sigh and every growling wheeze that Yeosang emitted seemed to prolong your orgasm, driving you deeper and deeper into a state of euphoria until you felt no connection to your body and black dots began to dance before your eyes.

When you finally managed to regain consciousness, you were lying on his lap, and your clothes had been returned to the tidy state they had been in before. You looked lazily around, still feeling heavy and unable to move. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as your still slightly unfocused gaze fell on the book in his hand.

"Are you serious, Yeosang? Classical poetry? You've just fucked my brains out, and you're still behave yourself like a good boy? Of course, the exemplary sempai, Kang Yeosang."

"Ah, now that cheeky mouth of yours is back again. I guess you haven't learned your lesson, doll; you have to be quiet in the library."

[nobodysdaydreams]

I already know the Wizard is probably gonna be so scared of Dorothy for so many reasons.

First of all, she’s from our world and from the same region of the US, so she knows exactly where he’s from and the technology he’s using to fake his magic. In fact, if time in Oz and Kansas/Nebraska are moving at the same rate, Dorothy should be from a time period ahead of when the Wizard came to Oz and should be able to easily explain most of his “magic”.

Second of all, the Grimmerie’s prophecy is that it will be read by someone from the sky in Oz’s darkest hour. Obviously, that’s Elphaba counteracting the Wizard, but the Wizard has everyone convinced it was him fixing things after the drought. But now, Oz is under “threat” of the witch and a young girl from his world shows up, kills the sister of the Wizard’s enemy, and has a dog with her, possibly a talking one. Everyone thinks Dorothy is super powerful, she fits exactly what the Grimmerie predicted, and she has everything she needs to expose the Wizard. He’d be terrified.

This is how I picture it going down:

Some guard: “The girl is quite powerful, sir. She came from the sky and immediately killed the Wicked Witch of the East. She claims it was easy, unintentional even!”

The Wizard (to himself): “Nothing to worry about. That was technically Morrible’s doing, the fact that she came from the sky is coincidental. I’m certain she has no real power.”

The guard: “She also acquired the dead witch’s shoes and when the Wicked Witch of the West showed up to take them, it was discovered the witch had no power over the girl.”

The Wizard (trying not to freak out): “You mean…Elphaba was powerless to stop this new witch-killing visitor from the sky? One that killed her sister and stole her property? You don’t say. And um… did the girl happen to say where she was from?”

The guard: “Yes. Kansas. She claims it’s a place without magic or talking animals.”

The Wizard (slowly becoming paranoid and trying to play it off): “Oh really? Haha… how silly. Never heard of a place called Kansas or anywhere without magic seeing as I’m clearly a powerful Wizard. And um… where is this girl now?”

The guard: “Why, she’s on the way to the Emerald City right now along with two animals, a least one of which can talk, and two men cursed by the Witch of the West. Apparently, they want to see you, specifically.”

The Wizard (sweating): “They want to see ME? I mean um…who wouldn’t? Haha… but whatever for?”

The guard: “Well, they’re demanding you fix the condition of the two men the witch cursed, give the girl passage home, and help the talking lion overcome his trauma. Seeing as they are celebrated throughout Oz for killing one wicked witch for us, surely it is appropriate and well within your power to grant their requests immediately.”

The Wizard (slipping into madness and frantically trying to hide it): “Indeed it is I am a generous man yes, and I can totally do that for sure, yes of course, I have the power, but first, let’s take them all prisoner upon arrival just in case can never be too careful these days.”

The guard: “Sir… are you saying you want us to…”

The Wizard (shouting and trembling in fear): “Throw that little girl in prison, put those Animals in cages, and keep the two the witch cursed out of my sight! Tell them I’m busy! Tell them I have the flu! Tell them I’m out of town! Any excuse, I don’t care what it is, and whatever you do, DO NOT let that girl escape!”

By this point, the Wizard is paranoid out of his mind, assuming they are on the way to kill and/or expose him and given the company Dorothy keeps, it’s unlikely the Wizard will be very successful in getting her on his side. His goal would likely be to cage the Animals, find a way to deal with Boq and Fiyero (if he even recognizes them), and capture Dorothy as a potential enemy.

Maybe Elphaba writing “Surrender Dorothy” in the sky with her broom in this version of the story isn’t asking Dorothy herself to surrender, but demanding the Wizard to give Dorothy up because he takes her prisoner out of fear that she will expose him and the Wizard lets her go on the condition that she proves her loyalty by killing the Witch. The Wizard probably figures it’s a win/win for him: either Elphaba or Dorothy will die, and one of his enemies will destroy the other. What he wouldn’t expect is them working together, because as far as he knows, Dorothy has stolen the witch’s sister’s shoes and befriended two men cursed by the witch.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [8]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9

"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.

Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."

Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"

"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.

He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.

Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.

The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."

Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.

"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."

Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."

"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."

Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"

Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.

"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."

Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.

The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.

In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"

Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.

As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.

But you weren't entirely alone, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.

"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.

You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.

With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."

Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.

Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."

Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."

Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."

As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."

"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.

Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."

Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."

You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"

This time, you nodded with a wide smile.

"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."

Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.

With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."

He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."

Mission accomplished.

Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."

As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."

"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."

His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.

"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.

Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.

Yes, he's here with you now.

Nothing bad will happen.

His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."

The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"

Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.

The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"

"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.

You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.

Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.

Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."

The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."

"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."

"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.

Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"

Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"

The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.

"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.

All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.

Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.

But what if there was still hope for them?

What if they had a chance?

After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.

You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."

That should be me!

The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?

In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."

Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"

"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.

Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."

Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.

Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.

Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.

Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?

"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.

Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."

"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.

Your real home, not this nightmare.

« Preview of Part 9 »

As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.

"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.

You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.

If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?

Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.

"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."

Oh, crap.

Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈

Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[fanaticsnail]

Restrained

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Themes: MDNI, smut, established relationship, Sub!kid x Dom!reader, gn!reader, nipple play - Kid receiving, untouched reader, untouched Kid.

Notes: I don't know why I needed to do this, but I did. He's just crept up on me. Send help. Something about large, powerful men being made to squirm. Art link.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @carrotsunshine

Eustass Kid's eyes widened, his muffled voice growling past the material of the woven gag. Saliva coated his chin, his red paint far from present within the boarder lines of his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he continued to strain against the seastone cuffs that bound his ankles to the chair legs.

Woven rope cinched tightly beneath his armpits, his right arm was bound to the backrest of the chair, while his stumped left was coiled tightly and restrained against the side of the chair.

Why did he agree to this again? What was the safety signal again? He just felt helpless, small, stuck - restrained.

As his eyes met with yours, your wicked smile crept up to decorate your face with suggestive intent. Your fingertips gently traced his scarred cheek, trailing down his jaw to brush lightly against his clavicle bone. As your fingertips trailed delicately lower against his chest, he writhed beneath your hand as it barely skimmed over his left nipple.

His belt buckle jingled as he attempted to greedily seek your touch where he desperately craved it. The waistband of his decorative pants and underwear fell further down his knees to pool at his boot-covered feet. The swollen tip of his angry cock throbbed, twitching in anticipation as it stood alert to receive its orders.

You remained fully clothed, your smile now softening into a small smirk. Your thumb casually traced over his left nipple once more, watching as Kid mewled within his gag and arched his back. His eyes widened further in shock as the first few droplets of pearly precum gathered in the slit of his cock.

This was the first time you had suggested such a thing: finally being the one in control for once. After much negotiating, and back and forth with what exactly that means, Kid agreed to be a willing puppy and accept all that he was given by your hands.

And what he was given was shibari restraint within his Captains’ chair, a gag thrust in between his lips, seastone cuffs attached to his ankles and a verbal reminder that, should he ever wish to stop, he was to tap his right heel three times firmly on the floor.

“Does that feel good, big guy?” you purred your sultry whisper into his left ear, “Like feeling my fingers on your sensitive nipples?”

Flicking your thumb over his left nipple, you began to focus your attention on his right: pinching it lightly between your index and middle finger. In scissoring motions, you rolled the tender skin between your secondary knuckles: always gentle, always soft, always tender.

Kid was panting heavily now, brows knit in a deep furrow with sweat pooling beneath the band of his blast goggles. Scrunching his eyes tightly shut, his black eyeliner began to smudge with a mixture of glassy tears at the stimulation he was and wasn't receiving.

The dance of his untouched cock bobbing in the air, veins pulsating with desire, held your attention for a moment: debating whether you should pay the poor, neglected boy some attention. Your smile widened as you chose to continue your negligence, focussing solely on his nipples.

You straddled his lap, hooking your thighs over his knees and intentionally keeping any stimulus away from his needy cock. He cried out in muffled desperation, opening his tightly scrunched eyes and begging you with his accusatory gaze.

The twitch of his knob enchanted you, watching as the blood rush deepened the hue and had his breath hitching.

“Am I not treating you well?” you taunted him with a mocking pout, “Too much and too little all at once?”

He bobbed his head frantically, his mind dizzy with the focus of his sensation being so far from his cock. He truly did not understand why this zone of his body had the pit of his stomach coiling within his belly, his balls sucked up deep within his stomach and the tip of his cock twitching like he was about to explode.

“You think this is too much,” you commented in a low hum, “Just wait until you feel this.”

Leaning down, you licked a clean stripe with the tip of your tongue down his left pectoral, rolling his right nipple within your thumb and index finger as you thumbed over his left. He mewled, keening and whimpering like a needy puppy as he tucked his head into his shoulder to avoid your eyes.

His breath hitched, his cock straining as his mind fogged. Your flattened tongue ground itself against the sensitive nub of his left nipple, before you swirled the tip in skillful circles. He honestly felt like the pit in his stomach was about to burst. He clamped his eyes shut once more, blood flooding to his cheeks: dusting his skin with a warm hue of vibrant red.

Tugging and sucking at the flesh had him writhing in his seat: gyrating, thrusting, and circling to attempt to rub his touch-starved cock against any surface to provide it stimulus. You giggled against his flesh before vibrating a hum into his peaked nipple.

He almost forgot how to breathe, the feelings were too overwhelming for him to process. You released his nipple from your mouth with an overemphatic ‘pop’, Kid’s eyes reopening to meet his whisky-hue orbs with your own. His irises were almost completely missing, the dark onyx of his pupils claiming dominance against his eyes.

Floating your eyes between his own, briefly fluttering down to his gagged mouth, you leaned forward and pressed a small kiss against his lips. The kiss was chaste, his lips barely being able to meet with your own beneath the woven gag. Pulling away, you smiled at him while still flicking at his right nipple.

Without tearing your eyes from his, you leant down to his left nipple once more. Kid held his breath, fully expecting you to toy with him with your lips and tongue. What you did instead was lean forward, hover your lips in a perfect circle, and blew a lengthy breath of cold air against the saliva coated surface of his left nipple.

The band snapped within his stomach; the sudden shocked arrival of an unsuspecting orgasm erupting from the swollen tip of Kid’s impressive cock had his voice crying out for you. You pulled away from his nipples, sensing a twitch in his thigh that only ever occured when he was about to explode in passion.

Thick ropes of his cum spent itself on his stomach, smaller squirts of pearly, translucent droplets spurted within the air and coated his pubic hair at the base of his shaft. His thick, red pubic hair was marked by his sticky cum: coating each strand with his passionate release.

Cries of his bliss were caught within the material of the saliva-dampened gag, halting the true sobs and whimpers he was desperately screaming in gratitude to you. Your shock was evident in your eyes, a surprised smile swelled up to your cheeks as you watched this impressively larger man become undone without any stimulus to his quivering cock.

Huffing and panting, the final spurts of his spend leaked from his shiney tip, pooling down his velvety shaft with several whimpering twitches. You cooed at him in awe, softly pressing a small kiss against the apple of his cheek as you halted the pressure on his nipples.

“Aww, that was so cute!” you chirped at him, his eyes snapping open with his brows triangulating in the center of his forehead, “You wanna do it again?”

His right heel bounced frantically against the floor, indicating in panic that he was completely and totally unprepared to have that occur again. You giggled with your head nodding, hands presenting your palms upwards in defense before removing the gag from your lover’s lips.

“Okay, big guy,” you smiled at him, tugging down the material and shimmying it down his chin, “How do you feel?” you caressed his cheeks, pressing gentle kisses against his temple and forehead.

“Like I-...” he choked on his words, glancing down at the mess coating his lap and chair, “...like I shouldn't have liked that as much as I did.”

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Kink/NSFW Alphabet: Astarion X Reader

Word Count: 4.2k Mentions: SMUT, HORNYYYYY, She/Her

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

A - Aftercare:

After the thrill of an intense encounter, Astarion would savor the moments of gentle touch and tender care with you. He might surprise you with his softness, relishing the closeness that comes after. It’s a rare chance for him to show a quieter side, reminding both of you that there’s more to intimacy than just the heat of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I need this—no games, no pretense. Just… you.” His voice would drop to a whisper, his words carrying a weight that hints at something deeper.

“Water, a warm bed, and you. I may have been dead for centuries, but I think I could learn to appreciate the little things again.” He’d give you a lazy smile, clearly enjoying this rare moment of calm.

B- Biting:  

Astarion would take his time, making sure each bite is memorable, blending pleasure with just a hint of danger. As his lips graze your neck, Astarion pauses, breathing in deeply “You have no idea how intoxicating you smell,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of hunger and desire. He lets his fangs hover just above your skin, savoring the anticipation before finally pressing them in, just enough to send a slight moan and shiver down your spine. He pulls back, smirking as he studies your reaction. “Did that hurt, or should I go a bit deeper?” His tone is teasing, but his eyes flash with something primal, as if holding himself back is as thrilling for him as the bite itself.

C - Control:

Astarion thrives on control; it’s where he feels most alive. He revels in guiding each encounter, deciding when to be gentle and when to be intense. Every touch, every whispered command, is carefully calculated to keep you exactly where he wants you.

For Astarion, it’s a dance where he leads, and you willingly follow, caught in the thrill of his commanding presence.

As he moves closer, he whispers, “Every sound you make belongs to me. If you’re quiet, I might reward you. But if you disobey… well, let’s just say I have my ways of reminding you who’s in control.” The promise of pleasure mixed with a hint of danger lingers in the air.

D - Dominance: (DADDY preference) 

Astarion revels in his role as the dominant partner, thriving on the control he wields over every encounter. His commanding presence transforms each moment into a thrilling game of power and submission. He takes pleasure in guiding you, ensuring you know that he’s the one in charge, and relishes in teasing you until you’re desperate for his touch.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, Astarion smirks, relishing the power he holds. “You love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy,” he taunts, his fingers trailing down your body, teasing just above where you need him most.

When you gasp out, “Yes, daddy,” a wicked grin spreads across his face, his eyes darkening with desire. “Ah, there it is,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’s so much more thrilling when you know who’s in charge.” He presses his body against yours, making sure you feel every inch of him. “Now, beg for it,” he commands, his tone both teasing and serious, his grip tightening as he watches the need flood your expression. “Tell me how badly you want this, and I just might give you what you crave.”

(I’m blushing writing, editing and re-reading this LOL)

E - Edge Play:

Astarion thrives on the thrill of pushing boundaries and exploring the fine line between pleasure and pain. He enjoys taking you to the brink, teasing you mercilessly and keeping you on the edge of ecstasy, never quite allowing you to fall over into release until he decides it’s time. For him, the tension and anticipation only heighten the experience, turning every moment into a delicious game of control.

With a wicked grin, he holds you firmly in place, whispering, “I want you to feel every pulse of desire building inside you. I’ll keep you right on the edge until you can’t take it anymore.”

He trails his fingers along your body, stopping just shy of where you need him most. “You’re going to beg for it, darling. And I won’t give you a thing until I’m satisfied.” His eyes glint with mischief as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Can you handle that, my love? “ 

F - Fetishes:

Blood Play: Given Astarion’s vampiric nature, he may have a slight fascination with blood play—enjoying the thrill of drawing blood during intimate moments. This could be both a literal aspect of his vampirism and a metaphor for the deeper connection he craves. The intensity and danger of this fetish would excite him, heightening the sense of power and submission.

Astarion leans in, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Tell me, love, what are your secret desires? What fetishes do you long to explore?” His voice is sultry, drawing you in as he holds your gaze.

As you shyly confess a fantasy, he raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, that sounds positively delightful. I can already envision how much fun we could have.” He steps closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I’ll make sure you experience it in the most exquisite way possible.”

G - Gag Play:

Astarion finds a particular thrill in gag play, savoring the way it amplifies control and adds an element of vulnerability. He enjoys the sight and sound of you silenced, heightening every sensation as he takes charge, knowing that your trust is his to hold. The added restraint brings a deeper intensity to your connection, amplifying every gesture and touch.

Astarion slips a gag into place, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he fastens it carefully. “There we go darling,” he murmurs, taking a step back to admire his work. “Now you can’t even protest, not that you’d want to. All you can do is give in to me.” He brushes a thumb over your cheek, reveling in the muffled sounds you make as he teases and torments you, savoring every muffled whimper. “I like you like this—helpless and unable to speak,” he says, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Now, let’s see how much you can handle without a single word.” He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “You don’t need to talk, my love. Just follow my lead, and I’ll make sure every moment leaves you breathless.” His touch becomes more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he revels in the thrill of seeing you restrained, bound to his control. “You look absolutely divine on your knees, my sweet. Such a good little girl, knowing exactly how to beg for my pleasure."

H - Handcuffs:

Astarion revels in the exhilarating thrill of using handcuffs during your intimate times. For him, the sensation of you bound and completely dependent on him heightens both the tension and excitement, allowing him to take full control of your pleasure.

“You’re going to learn to love being tied up, my sweet. Trust me, it’s an exquisite way to surrender” He tightens the cuffs. Your breath quickens, doesn’t it? It’s the thrill of surrendering to me that makes your heart race,” Astarion murmurs, his voice a velvety whisper as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Every gasp, every shiver—it only tells me how much you crave this.”

I - Impregnation Fantasy: ( aka Breeding Kink hehe )

Astarion is intrigued by the allure of impregnation fantasies, where the thrill of possibility intertwines with desire. This fantasy taps into deep-seated emotions and primal instincts, igniting a heady mix of vulnerability, power, and intimacy. For him, it’s not just about the physical act but also the deeper connections and the fantasies of creating something new together.

As he continues, his fingers trace your skin with tantalizing slowness. “Picture it: the two of us lost in ecstasy, the heat building until you can’t help but want me completely. The idea of me filling you with my seed, making you mine in the most primal way possible, drives me wild. I want to hear you beg for it, to want it so badly that you can’t think of anything else.” He leans back, gazing into your eyes, a playful smile teasing his lips. “The thought of it sends shivers down my spine. The idea of you carrying a part of me… it’s almost intoxicating, don’t you think?”

J - Jerking off :

Astarion was not one to indulge in self-pleasure; he much preferred the intimacy of slow, passionate lovemaking with Y/N, where every caress and lingering kiss deepened their connection. But as the day stretched into evening while they traveled apart, the ache of longing began to consume him. The memories of her soft skin against his, her breath hitching in delight, haunted him, making it impossible to resist the temptation. In the quiet solitude of his chamber, he found himself surrendering to desire, the thrill of imagining her beside him igniting a fire he rarely felt alone. With each stroke, he conjured the image of her, knowing that this fleeting moment would only heighten their next encounter.

In the dimly lit room, Astarion found himself alone, the flickering candlelight casting playful shadows across the walls. He leaned back against the plush cushions of the chaise lounge, his thoughts drifting to the memory of her—every tantalizing moment they had shared. A wicked smile spread across his lips as he closed his eyes, allowing the visions to consume him.

With a low, seductive chuckle, he began to stroke himself slowly, his hand moving up and down the length of his shaft with a deliberate slowness that made his breath hitch. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, imagining her soft gasps and the way her body would arch under his touch.

Each stroke felt electric, sending shivers down his spine as he pictured her beneath him, her eyes glazed with desire, begging for more. “If only you were here, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing. “I could make you feel so good…”

K - Kitten Play: 

Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle when Y/N jokingly meowed at him one evening, the sound playful and unexpectedly adorable. The moment sparked something in him, a mischievous idea that began to blossom in his mind. Every so often he affectionately dubbed her as “Kitten,” each instance bringing a playful glint to his eyes.   

“Well, at least your meow is for me,” he teased one afternoon, watching her with a smirk as she curled up on the couch, a playful pout on her lips. “Who knew I had a little feline in my life?” He leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Do you want a treat, my dear Kitten?”

Whenever they found themselves in playful moments, he’d tease her further, urging her to embrace the persona. “Come on, show me your best meow,” he’d say, grinning wickedly, knowing full well how her cheeks would flush at the request.

L - Lingerie Play:

Astarion had developed a penchant for selecting the most exquisite lingerie for Y/N. Each time they ventured into a market or passed a boutique, he couldn’t resist the urge to slip inside, his eyes gleaming with delight as he envisioned her wearing the delicate fabrics. It had become a delightful game between them—his seductive eye for detail paired with her playful acceptance.

“I simply cannot resist,” he would declare, holding up a lacy piece in an enticing shade of crimson. “This one screams your name, my darling.” He’d watch her face light up with a mix of surprise and excitement, the playful banter between them igniting their chemistry even further.

M - Masochism:

Astarion thrived on the exquisite and indulgent, finding true exhilaration in moments of masochism where pleasure intertwined with pain. He loved the thrill of pushing boundaries (consensually), each sting drawing him deeper into ecstasy. In these intimate encounters, he took the lead, guiding Y/N through the delicate dance of sensations that heightened their connection.

Leaning in, she gave his ear a soft, teasing nibble, a cute gesture that surprised him. Astarion's eyes widened, a mix of shock and delight flashing across his face. The unexpected sensation sent a shiver of pleasure through him, and a genuine smile broke free as he savored the delightful twist.

(Sorry I love his fawkkkinggg stupid big sexy pointy elf ears I wanna bite himmmmm nom nom nom) 

N - Nipple Play:

Astarion had a particular weakness for breasts, finding them utterly captivating. He adored exploring Y/N's curves, especially when it came to nipple play.

“You know,” he teased, leaning in with a sly grin, “I’m quite skilled at this.” With that, he brought his mouth to her nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak before sucking gently. “Mmm, you taste divine,” he murmured, the heat of his breath sending shivers through her.

As he lavished attention on her, Astarion delighted in her soft gasps and eager reactions. “Tell me how good it feels, love,” he encouraged, reveling in the way her body arched towards him, craving more of his touch. Each flick of his tongue ignited her desire, deepening their intimate connection with every teasing kiss.

O - Orgasms: 

To Astarion, an orgasm is the ultimate expression of surrender and pleasure, where all boundaries fade away, leaving only raw ecstasy. It’s not just a release but a profound connection with Y/N, a thrilling culmination of desire. Watching her unravel in bliss is his greatest reward, a testament to their intimacy that fuels his craving for more.

Astarion knew the delicate balance between pleasure and anticipation. “Hold on to that feeling,” he instructed, teasing her as he skillfully coaxed her towards the edge, then pulling back just enough to prolong the delicious torment. He loved the way her eyes would darken with need, the way her body arched toward him, craving release.

When he finally allowed her to plunge into ecstasy, it was as if time itself stood still. The shuddering wave of pleasure that consumed her sent him spiraling alongside her, both of them lost in the blissful aftermath. “You’re breathtaking, my love,” he breathed, brushing his thumb along her jawline, marveling at the glow of satisfaction that enveloped her. “Together, we create magic.”

P - Positions:

Astarion had an exquisite taste for intimacy, and when it came to sexual positions, he preferred those that allowed him to fully appreciate the beauty of his partner. He thrived on the thrill of connection and the power dynamics at play, always eager to explore new ways to bring Y/N pleasure.

One of his favorites was the classic missionary, where he could gaze into Y/N’s eyes, savoring the depth of their connection as he thrust deeply inside her. “I could get lost in your gaze forever,” he would whisper, the intimacy igniting his desire even more.

Q - Quickies:

Astarion wasn’t one for quickies. He found the rush of hurried encounters to be lacking, a mere shadow of the true pleasure that could be achieved through leisurely exploration. “Why rush when we can savor every moment?” he would often muse, a playful smirk gracing his lips. “I’d much rather take my time,” he would say with a teasing grin, “because when I finally have you, I want you to remember every exquisite detail.” Quickies, in his view, were a distraction from the true delight of losing themselves in each other, a fleeting encounter he was happy to forgo for something far more tantalizing.

R - Roleplay:

Given his charismatic and theatrical personality, he’d relish the opportunity to step into different characters and scenarios. Roleplay allows for a creative exploration of fantasies and power dynamics, which would appeal to his penchant for control and seduction.

Astarion lounged on the edge of a lavishly decorated chaise, the dim candlelight casting soft shadows on his flawless features. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced at Y/N, a sly smile playing on his lips. “My dear,” he drawled, his voice dripping with allure, “would you care to indulge in a little fantasy tonight?” He leaned forward, the flicker of excitement in his gaze igniting a sense of adventure in the air. Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s play a game,” he suggested, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You shall be a princess trapped in a dark castle, and I”—he paused dramatically—“am the charming vampire who has taken you captive.” He stood, his posture exuding confidence, and took a slow step towards her. “You’ll find that I’m not the monster you might think I am.”

(he always wants to be the "bad monster" who takes you)

S - Spanking:

Astarion had a particular fondness for spanking, finding the mix of pleasure and pain to be utterly intoxicating. The sharp slap against skin sent delightful tingles coursing through his body, igniting a primal thrill that left him craving more. He loved the sound it made—an echo of intimacy that filled the air, reminding both him and Y/N of the delicious dynamic they shared. Music to his ears.

He loved the way Y/N would gasp, her body responding eagerly to each strike, the combination of pain and pleasure heightening her arousal. “Just a little more, darling,” he’d murmur, his breath warm against her ear. “You can take it, do it for me.”

T - Temperature Play:

Astarion delighted in the sensual thrill of temperature play, especially when it came to using candle wax to heighten sensation and anticipation. He adored the intimate dance of warmth and coolness, the way it transformed the atmosphere into one charged with electricity.

“Shall we try something a bit daring tonight?” he would ask with a devilish grin, holding up a beautifully crafted candle, its wax glistening in the candlelight. Y/N's curiosity piqued, she nodded, excitement bubbling within.

As he lit the candle, the flickering flame cast playful shadows across the room. “Just relax,” he instructed, his voice smooth and soothing. “I promise you’ll find this exhilarating.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Y/N's skin as he tilted the candle. “Now, let’s see how you react to a little heat,” he teased, letting a few drops of warm wax fall onto their body. The sensation was both surprising and thrilling, a rush of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool air surrounding them.

U - Undressing:

Astarion had a profound appreciation for the art of undressing. To him, it was more than just the physical act; it was a tantalizing ritual filled with anticipation and desire. He relished the way his gaze lingered on Y/N, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour, as if he could undress them with just a look.

“You know how much I adore seeing you in that,” he would say, admiring the outfit he had chosen for her. Each piece was selected with meticulous care, designed to accentuate her beauty while igniting his own desires. “But let’s not keep it on for too long, shall we?”

(He takes your panties off with his teefs)

V - Voyerism:

Astarion lurked in the shadows, a predator hidden in the night. He watched you as you gathered wildflowers, your carefree movements striking against the encroaching darkness. There was something almost intoxicating about your innocence, a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them.

As you knelt to collect kindling, the fabric of your clothes clung to you, a tempting reminder of your fragility. He felt a thrill shoot through him, a dark hunger ignited by the sight of you so blissfully unaware of the eyes upon you. It was an intoxicating game, one that filled him with a twisted pleasure—watching you in your mundane tasks, a stark reminder of everything he’d lost.

He relished the intimacy of the moment, the thrill of being just out of sight. Each smile you offered, each soft laugh that escaped your lips, felt like a secret meant only for him. It was exhilarating, knowing he could take everything from you in an instant, yet choosing to simply observe instead.

When you turned and caught his gaze, he smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admiring your handiwork,” he said, his voice low and playful. But inside, the darkness coiled tighter, a reminder of the monster he was, lurking just beneath the surface, reveling in the shadows.

W - Worship:

Astarion stood before you, the flickering candlelight illuminating his sharp features and casting an alluring glow over his pale skin. There was an intensity in his crimson gaze, a hunger that ran deeper than mere desire. In this moment, he was not just a vampire lord; he was your devoted worshiper, ready to offer everything he had.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice smooth and sultry. “Absolutely divine.” He stepped closer, his presence enveloping you, a magnetic force drawing you in. He knelt at your feet, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor, and pressed a soft kiss to the ground before you, a gesture of reverence that sent a thrill through your body.

With every movement, he exuded a dark, intoxicating energy, making it clear that he was fully at your service. “You deserve to be worshiped,” he continued, his voice low, laced with sincerity. “To have every part of you adored and cherished.”

He trailed his lips along your ankles, his kisses both delicate and possessive, as if he wanted to imprint his devotion upon your skin. “You are the light in my darkness,” he whispered, his breath warm against you. “I crave to honor you, to revel in your beauty.”

Astarion looked up, his gaze locked on yours, filled with a mix of admiration and something darker. “Let me show you how deeply I worship you,” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “Every caress, every kiss will be a testament to my devotion.”

With that, he took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your palm. The intimacy of the moment felt electric, a silent promise of the pleasures to come. He savored the taste of your skin, each kiss a declaration of his worship.

“Your power over me is intoxicating,” he continued, his voice low and reverent. “I want to drown in your presence, to feel every inch of you beneath my lips.”

(Makes love to you but can also fuck you like a toy)

X - Ray : He’s gotta be at LEAST 6 inches and veiny/girthy (idk im delusional, I love him no matter what)

Y - Yearning: In which they haven’t developed a relationship… Yet

Astarion watched you interact with the other companions, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. Deep down, he longed for something genuine—a connection that felt real. Your laughter stirred feelings he had long buried, and the warmth of your presence ignited a hope he thought was lost.

He craved the chance to share not just his darkness, but also the flicker of humanity still within him. The idea of being seen by you, truly seen, both thrilled and terrified him.

He wanted to be desired not just as a vampire lord, but as a man worthy of your love. In those fleeting moments, Astarion realized that what he wanted most was the possibility of a future with you, one filled with authenticity and connection.

Z - Zero Tolerance: What I imagine some of his boundaries are that he’s set.

Clear Safe Words: He emphasizes the importance of establishing safe words or signals that can be used to pause or stop play instantly, reinforcing the idea that boundaries are always respected.

Betrayal: Betrayal has haunted Astarion for ages, making him hyper-aware of trust issues. Any hint of dishonesty or broken promises can trigger a visceral reaction, prompting him to reinforce the need for transparency and accountability in their relationship.

No Use of Sharp Objects: Astarion could establish that no knives or sharp implements are allowed in play, emphasizing safety and avoiding triggers related to past traumas.

No Slapping in the Face: Astarion may specify that any form of impact play on the face is off-limits, as it feels too personal and vulnerable.

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

Authors Note:

Hey, if you've made it this far thank you!

I know it was superrrrr long, I hope it was satisfying. I haven't seen anyone do a NSFW alphabet in a while so I gave it my own twist.

Just a reminder that this is fun for me and this is how I view him so please don't be upset if it doesn't align with you <3

Also you guys this song "Rule 34" is amazing, fits Star perfectly in my humble opinion....

If you enjoyed, please give it a like/reblog :)

Cheers X

-Siren

[domm1etae]

Birthday gift

y/n x yeosang

oneshot | mdni

2.7k

Yeosang gives his lover the perfect birthday gift

nsfw tags under

f/m, top yeosang, moaning, teasing, praising, oral sex , vaginal sex, kissing, make out, i love you, etc.

"Yeosang," his name escaped your lips in a breathless, needy whine that only fueled the devilish grin spreading across his face. His eyes glinted with mischief as they roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on your breasts before they met your own gaze, a fire burning in their depths.

“You really want it, don’t you?” His voice was rough, low, like a dark promise waiting to unfold. Your eyes were drawn to his broad chest, muscles flexing as his hand trailed down, gripping his hardened length through his tight dress pants. You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of his strong hand wrapping around himself, giving an effortless squeeze.

He cocked his head, dark strands of hair falling over his eyes as he raised a brow. “Want it, baby?” His voice was a teasing drawl, the corner of his lips twitching up in satisfaction at how you chewed on your bottom lip, desperately trying to contain the moan threatening to spill.

Yeosang knew exactly the effect he had on you. It was a power he wielded effortlessly, and tonight, he was enjoying watching you squirm beneath the weight of your desire. The way your teeth tugged on your lip, the way your thighs pressed together, aching for him.

He wasn’t surprised that your night had taken such a wicked turn. In fact, he had been planning for this ever since he caught you snooping through your shared bedroom, trying to find the birthday present he’d hidden from you. You were too impatient, too eager, and now, he had taken your gift and slipped it into the pocket of his pants, taunting you. What followed was a playful chase around the house, laughter filling the air as Yeosang dodged your every attempt to catch him.

Until, that is, he let himself be cornered — right back where you started, in your bedroom. His back was against the wall, but his lips were curved into a knowing smirk. He was letting you think you had won.

Breathing hard, you had charged at him, but as soon as you reached out for the gift, you’d accidentally grabbed something else — his cock, thick and ready beneath his pants. A dangerous chuckle escaped his lips, his hand immediately covering yours.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think that’s the present you were after,” he teased, his voice a husky murmur against your ear, making your knees go weak.

Now, you stood there, panting, arousal coursing through your veins as Yeosang backed you against the bed. His tall frame towered over yours, his smoldering gaze holding you captive.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, eyes trailing down your body. “You’re already desperate for me, and I haven’t even unzipped my pants yet.” His gaze flicked back up to yours, sharp and heated. “Is my birthday girl really that eager?”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. But that wasn’t good enough for him. His lips curved into a devilish frown, his voice coming out as a soft, playful reprimand.

“Ah, ah. Use your words, princess. I want to hear you say it.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your breath hitched, knowing what he wanted. “Yes, Yeosang… I want it,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with need. His answering smile was dangerous, like a predator who had his prey exactly where he wanted it.

“Good girl.”

Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned his pants, your eyes locked onto the sight, anticipation building as his hands moved expertly. Every inch of fabric that fell away revealed more of the taut muscle of his thighs, his bare skin almost glistening under the dim light of your room. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your body already aching to feel him against you.

When his pants hit the floor, he wasted no time. His boxers were pushed down swiftly, revealing his thick, throbbing cock, the tip already glistening with precum. Yeosang’s eyes never left yours as he wrapped a hand around himself, slowly stroking, teasing.

“Look at you,” he drawled, his voice dripping with lust. “You’re practically drooling for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He was right. You were barely holding it together. But you wanted to feel him, touch him, taste him. With a burst of boldness, you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head and letting it drop to the floor. You stood there, completely bare, your nipples hard, your skin flushed with heat.

Yeosang’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze hungry, devouring every inch of your exposed body. His lips parted slightly, and a groan escaped him as his hand stroked himself harder.

“Come here,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. You obeyed, moving to the bed and climbing on top of him. His cock twitched in your hand as you took over, replacing his grip with your own, your fingers gliding over his slick length. His lips crushed against yours, hot and demanding, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

Switching hands, you slid your fingers between your legs, gathering the slickness of your arousal, and rubbed it along the length of his shaft. Yeosang’s head fell back into the pillows, a guttural moan spilling from his throat at the contact.

“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, his voice strained, his thighs tensing beneath you. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

But you didn’t stop. His pleasure fueled your own, and you stroked him with renewed focus, watching as his breathing quickened, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

“Let me,” you whispered softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock before swirling your tongue around it. He groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him deeper.

His hips bucked up slightly as your mouth moved up and down, his cock throbbing against your tongue. “Fuck, baby, I need you. I need to taste you,” he begged between gasps, his hand resting on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

With one last long lick, you released him, smirking at the wrecked expression on his face. “Okay,” you teased, crawling up his body. “But don’t lose control just yet.”

You positioned yourself above him, his strong hands guiding your hips until your slick folds hovered right above his mouth. The second his tongue flicked out to taste you, a sharp gasp left your lips, and you had to steady yourself on the headboard, fighting the urge to grind down against his face.

"Yeosang!" His name fell from your lips in a high-pitched moan, and you rocked against his mouth, his tongue teasing your clit in slow, languid strokes. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, keeping you in place as he devoured you.

You could barely concentrate, the pleasure clouding your mind, but you were determined. Leaning down, you took his cock back into your mouth, sucking him with renewed fervor. The combination of his tongue on you and the taste of him filling your senses had your head spinning, both of you lost in the intensity of the moment.

He was the first to pull away, his voice strained as he gasped for breath. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You smirked, sitting up slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Yeosang groaned, his eyes closing as he thrust up into your hand, but then his hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you off him. “Not yet, princess. I want to be inside you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you climbed off him, positioning yourself to straddle his hips. His cock was hard and leaking, practically begging for you, but he was patient, watching you with hooded eyes as you lined him up with your entrance.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as you slowly sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but the pleasure soon followed, washing over you in waves as you finally seated yourself fully on top of him.

“Yeosang…” His name was a breathless moan as you adjusted, feeling him deep inside you, filling you completely. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you as you began to move, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion as you leaned down to kiss him. His lips met yours in a desperate, heated kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands tightened on your hips, helping you set a rhythm that had you both gasping for breath.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he groaned against your lips, his hips thrusting up to meet yours, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “You’re mine… all mine.”

Your movements became more frantic, your body chasing the release that was building rapidly inside you. Yeosang’s thrusts became harder, faster, and soon, you were both a tangled mess of limbs and moans, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as youfelt the tightening in your core, the tension building with every deep, deliberate thrust he gave you. His hands moved to your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder onto his cock as he panted against your neck, whispering, "Cum for me, princess. I want to feel you lose it on my cock."

His words sent a shiver through your body, making the coil in your belly tighten even further. You could barely keep yourself upright as you rocked your hips, each movement drawing you closer to the edge. His cock hit that sweet spot over and over again, and with a loud cry, your body finally gave in.

"Yeosang!" you moaned, your voice high-pitched and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life as you came hard around him. Your pussy clenched tightly, pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, your orgasm so intense it left you shaking.

Yeosang groaned beneath you, feeling you contract around his cock, your tight walls squeezing him in a way that was driving him insane. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust up into you, chasing his own release.

Even through the haze of your orgasm, you couldn’t help but admire the sight of him beneath you. His face was flushed, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he lost himself in the sensation of being buried deep inside you.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his jaw, then his neck, murmuring his name between kisses. "I love you," you whispered against his skin, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through you.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice strained as he reached his breaking point. “Fuck, I’m close.”

With a groan, Yeosang flipped you over, rolling you beneath him as he took control. He thrust into you with renewed intensity, his cock slamming into you with a raw hunger that had you crying out in pleasure again. His face hovered inches above yours, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he gazed down at you with nothing but pure desire.

“You're so beautiful,” he panted, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your lips. His gaze was heavy, intense, as if he couldn't get enough of you, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment.

Your body arched into his touch, his words making your heart race even faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you, relishing the way his cock stretched you open with each powerful thrust. You were so close again, the feeling of him inside you, his body pressed against yours, sending you right back toward the edge.

"Please, Yeosang…" You whimpered, barely able to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as your body succumbed to the pleasure. "Please… don't stop."

His smirk returned, dark and teasing, as he leaned down to kiss your swollen lips. "I'm not stopping until you scream my name."

With that promise hanging in the air, he increased his pace, driving into you harder, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails as you held onto him, your body completely at his mercy.

And then it hit you. Your second orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, stronger and more overwhelming than the first. Your entire body tensed, your back arching off the bed as your pussy clenched around him tightly, milking his cock as you screamed his name.

"Yeosang!" The sound of his name on your lips sent him spiraling. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep into you one last time.

"I'm cumming, fuck—" His voice was rough, ragged, as his orgasm took over. His cock throbbed inside you as he spilled into you, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim. He moaned your name against your neck, his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be marks the next morning.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing as you both came down from the high. Yeosang's body trembled slightly as he pulled out of you, a hiss escaping his lips at the sensitivity. You both gasped when you felt his warm cum drip out of you, leaving a sticky mess between your thighs.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled into his chest. His skin was warm, his heartbeat still racing beneath your ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers trailing soothingly along your back.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice tender now, a stark contrast to the hunger he had shown you moments ago.

You smiled, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart swelled with the warmth of his affection, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

After a moment, Yeosang reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the small black velvet box. He handed it to you with a grin, his eyes soft but still filled with that playful spark.

"Here," he said, watching you with anticipation. "Your real present."

You sat up slightly, opening the box carefully, and your breath hitched when you saw the beautiful locket nestled inside. It was delicate, intricately designed, and when you opened it, your heart skipped a beat. Inside was a picture of you and Yeosang from your very first date, taken over a year ago. On the other side of the locket was an inscription that read, "I loved you first."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked at him, a smile spreading across your face. "You're really not going to let that go, are you?"

Yeosang chuckled, helping you fasten the locket around your neck. "Never. According to this," he tapped the locket gently, "I said it first."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with love. "Fine," you teased, "but I love you more."

His grin widened, and he pulled you into another kiss, his lips lingering on yours before he leaned back, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You ready for round two, birthday girl?" His voice was low and full of promise, his hand sliding down your back to rest on your waist.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you bit your bottom lip, feeling his body stir against yours once more. "Most definitely," you whispered huskily, leaning in close.

He chuckled, flipping you onto your back with ease as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with lust and affection. "Happy birthday, princess."

With that, he kissed you deeply, and you knew the night was far from over.

[librababe99]

Trigger Control

CW: MDNI 18+ ONLY, Wade Wilson, Fem!Reader, Gun Play

word count: 1.3K

A/N: Y'all remember that little spin Wade did to reload his gun before he fought Logan in the Void? Well, I was thinking about it and had the most filthy thoughts...As always comments likes and reblogs are appreciated!

The room was bathed in a dim, crimson glow, the neon sign flickering just outside the window, casting erratic shadows over the walls. It was the kind of night that felt electric, where every breath hung in the air, charged with something dangerous and unsaid.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, wearing nothing but one of Wade's old t-shirts. It barely skimmed past your thighs, the fabric soft and worn against your skin. Across the room, Wade leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his scarred chest, his tactical pants hanging low on his hips. His eyes, dark and full of that familiar, cocky heat, never left you. In his hand, he casually held a sleek black Glock, spinning it idly as if it were no more dangerous than a toy.

“You know,” his voice was a low rasp, lazy, yet sharp with an edge that made your breath catch, “this little game of ours? I’m starting to think you like it way too much.”

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, trying to maintain your composure. “And what game is that?”

Wade pushed off the wall with ease, swaggering toward you in that predatory way that always made your pulse quicken. The closer he came, the tighter the tension wound inside you. His gaze flickered down your body, lingering on your bare legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt that barely clung to your hips.

"The one where you pretend this doesn't turn you on." The gun in his hand shifted, and the sight of it sent a ripple of heat through your core. He wasn’t threatening—at least, not exactly. But there was something about the weight of the weapon in his hand, the knowledge of what it could do, that made you feel alive, aware of every inch of your body and how tightly strung you were.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Wade…”

“Shhh,” he murmured, stepping in close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand slid under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, just barely, a tease of what could come. “Look at you. So fucking pretty when you’re trying to be tough.”

Your breath hitched when the gun—cold, solid, unyielding—brushed against the side of your thigh. The chill of the metal against your skin sent shivers coursing through you, every nerve sparking to life. It was intimate, dangerously so. Wade’s gaze held yours, the glint in his eyes darker now, hungrier.

“Feel that?” he whispered, dragging the gun up the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate. “That’s power, baby. And you love it, don’t you?”

Your body betrayed you, arching ever so slightly toward the cold metal, thighs parting instinctively as he brought the barrel closer to your heat. You gasped, the sensation sharper than you expected, a mix of cold steel and burning need.

“Answer me,” Wade growled, voice rough, almost primal, as he pressed the gun just beneath the curve of your ass. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, raw with desire.

His lips twitched into a wicked grin, leaning in closer, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “I thought so.”

The gun traced a slow path up your body, the barrel cold against your skin, pausing at the hem of the shirt. Wade’s breath was hot against your neck, his free hand gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body was overwhelming, contrasting with the icy touch of the gun as it slid higher, pushing the fabric of the shirt up with it.

He leaned back, just enough to lock eyes with you, his grin stretching wider. “I could put one in the chamber right now,” he said, his tone dark and full of twisted amusement. The barrel of the gun nudged higher, grazing your bare skin beneath the shirt, the cool steel brushing against your stomach. “Right here. Between your legs. And you’d still trust me, wouldn’t you?”

Your heart pounded, breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. It wasn’t fear, not with him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. The danger, the thrill of it, only fueled the fire burning low in your belly.

“I trust you,” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips before you could even think.

Wade’s grin softened, but the hunger in his eyes only grew darker. He pressed the gun against your skin again, dragging it up higher, stopping just beneath your breasts. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “You’re something else, baby.”

With one swift motion, he flipped the gun in his hand, pressing the cool grip into your palm. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of it heavy, solid. Wade stepped back, just a few inches, but enough to give you space, his eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Show me how much you trust me.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you wrapped your fingers around the gun, lifting it slowly. Wade’s chest rose and fell with his breathing, his hands raised in mock surrender as you aimed it at him, the barrel pointed directly at his chest.

He didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin widened, his gaze locked on yours. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice like a dark caress. “You gonna shoot me, sweetheart?”

The power was intoxicating. You felt it humming through your veins as you held the gun steady, watching his every move. Your finger hovered near the trigger, the temptation sending a sharp thrill through you.

Wade took a step forward, his chest nearly brushing the barrel now. “Or are you gonna give in to that ache between your legs?”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach. The tension between you was unbearable, a razor-thin line between danger and desire. Your grip tightened around the gun as Wade’s hand slid along the barrel, lowering it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Before you could react, he grabbed you, his lips crashing into yours with a fierce, desperate hunger. The gun slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor, forgotten in the haze of heat and need. Wade’s hands were rough, gripping your hips, pulling you hard against him as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

You moaned into his mouth, hands clutching at his shoulders as he guided you backward, his lips never leaving yours. His body pressed against you, solid, hot, unyielding. You could feel him, hard and ready, pressing insistently against your thigh.

Wade broke the kiss, panting heavily, his forehead resting against yours. “God, you drive me fucking insane,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” you whispered, voice shaking with desire, your hands gripping the waistband of his pants, tugging him closer.

He laughed, dark and full of heat, before his lips were on yours again, rougher this time, more desperate. His hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, pulling the fabric up and over your head in one swift motion.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped, his eyes raking over you, drinking in every inch of bare skin exposed to him.

His hands moved to your thighs, lifting you easily as he pressed you back against the wall, his body caging you in. You wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as the hard length of him pressed against your core, only the thin fabric of his pants separating you.

He ground his hips into you, and you arched against him, a moan spilling from your lips as the friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. “Wade,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled, his mouth moving to your neck, biting down just enough to leave a mark. “I’m gonna give you what you need.”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Wicked Games

Assassin!Reader x Poly!Feysand

Author's note: This is my first self-insert and first smut, wanted to try something new for a change. Not proof-read, we die like men.

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

This mission was supposed to be simple, quick. In and out, cut and dry, the job coming in like all the others: A manila envelope under your door, no markings, the target and order inside. That was how it had always been, how it always would be, it was the only thing you knew to be true. So how in the Seven Hells had you ended up here? The High Lord leaned against the wall, his well pressed shirt open half way down his chest, the swirl of Illyrian ink in stark contrast to his bronze skin, so casual in the face of what should have been his own demise. Worse, the High Lady, perched atop the desk, her bare legs bouncing against the wood as she kicked her feet almost giddily. Neither of them looked displeased with the fact that you had been sent there to kill them. In fact, you were quite sure the infamous Curse Breaker was laughing at you as you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. They hadn't even tied you down! It was starting to feel like an insult, they way they'd simply ushered you in here and asked you to sit like you'd come in for a meeting and not for the poison you'd slipped into their wine minutes before.

"It was a valiant effort, really," said Rhysand as he pushed away from the wall and came to stand behind you.

It was impossible not to be aware of the sheer power of him when he was this close. It was like a dropping a stone into a pond, the ripple of star-kissed power brushing steadily against you. You'd been around powerful males your whole life, had been trained to kill many of them, but none had ever felt like this. He was the shadow of a thought in your mind, a brush of darkness against your skin, you could practically taste jasmine and citrus.

Feyre was no better as she placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward to get a better look at you. The dress she wore was cut low, the neckline plunging towards her midsection, accentuating every curve when she sat like that. Power radiated off her, not just Night, but something other, as if something beyond the power of the High Lords prowled beneath her skin.

"Not many people dare try," she said with a grin. She'd been the one to catch you. It had been a mistake going for her first, you could see that clearly now. The decision to spike their wine and than disguise yourself as their new cupbearer was already a risky move, but you liked to be absolutely sure the job was done, and done right. And Feyre hadn't taken her throne, she had been perched in Rhysand's lap, kissing his neck and whispering in his ear as she drank cup after cup. You'd thought she would be too drunk to notice the change in taste, too caught up in the revelry to even notice that you were not their usual cup bearer. You had been very, very wrong. She hadn't even gone in for a sip, had somehow been using her public display of affection to distract from the fact that she'd slipped right into your mind and seen exactly what you had done. And still, she could have killed you right there, could have summoned water or flames or ice and you'd heard she could do and taken you out in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares. But she'd gotten out of Rhysand's lap, stumbling on heels you thought were too tall for her, and thrown an arm around your shoulder, whispering in your ear that she needed your help finding the bathroom--and knocking the spiked drinks out of your hands in the process. It was very clear to you now that she had never been drunk in the first place.

Neither of them were anything like the report you'd gotten.

"I-" what was there to say? Words felt useless.

Rhysand leaned down, resting the bulk of his weight on the back of the chair, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "So who do I get to thank for sending you?"

You shivered at his proximity, at his warm breath over the shell of your ear. Not many people dared to get this close to you; not many people got the better of you like this either. This was certainly a lot of firsts.

When you gave no response, Feyre said, "Don't be shy."

They were likely to rip the answer right out of your skull with those terrifying daemati powers if you kept your mouth shut, or worse, summon that Shadowsinger you'd seen lurking around the halls earlier. "I don't know."

Rhysand made a disappointed sound from where he still hovered by your ear. You refused to try and turn to look at him, refused to acknowledge that you had even heard him.

Feyre jumped off the top of the desk, her stilettoes clicking against the polished marble floors. "Now, now, don't make this difficult for yourself."

"Your secret is safe with us," Rhysand said mockingly.

"I don't know! I get my orders in the mail. There's never a return address or signature."

"Where's the mail?"

"I burned it."

"Well in that case," his voice was the only warning before you felt something scrape against your mental shields. You tried to throw more walls up as a talon slashed across your mind, but it was not Rhysand that slipped past, but Feyre, quick and quite as the huntress they said she used to be. She laughed as she sprinted through your memories, all attempts at shielding useless as Rhysand kept poking at what little shields you had up to distract you. They were the perfect team, synced to perfection, each move calculated and sharpened.

Feyre stepped into the memory of you opening the envelope as simply as if she had stepped through a doorway. The memory unfolded for her, you saw your own hands break the seal, open the letter, and burn it in a flash, before reality broke back through. You shook your head, fighting the memory away like it was a spot in your eye.

"That handwriting looked familiar, didn't it, Darling," Rhysand purred, the low timber of his voice rumbling in your ear.

"How thoughtful of Keir to give us an Anniversary gift," Feyre returned.

Keir. You only knew the stories about him, what a horrible male he was. You'd been lucky to have not been born in the Court of Nightmares like your mother, had grown up only with the tales of what kind of place this was. Your mother had protected you for as long as she could, but when Amarantha had come, when war bands had fought and bickered over land in the little territory she and your father had managed to make for themselves... well, they were gone and you'd had to find a way to survive, but you hadn't forgotten those stories. Your stomach twisted. This job had never been easy, but it had never been for males like Kier. At least, you'd never thought so.

You must have looked surprised because Feyre put two manicured fingers under your chin and tilted your head up to look at you. Something wicked gleamed in those strikingly blue eyes and you quickly blurted, "I swear I didn't know! I needed the money, I didn't know the job was from him."

"We believe you," she said. "But I think you should prove you're worth letting go."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I'll do anything!"

Rhysand chuckled at that. "Anything?"

The suggestiveness in the question made you shiver, more so when the High Lady broke into a grin. That couldn't be a good sign.

"I want to see Keir sweat a little, don't you dear?" Feyre asked over your head to her mate.

"More than just a little, I should think."

This felt like a fever dream, everything a little distorted and muffled. Perhaps it was. You had hit your head pretty hard on your last mission. How else could you explain what was happening here?

"Stand," Feyre ordered.

You did as you were told, even if you were biting the inside of your cheek.

"So responsive," Rhysand said, more to Feyre than you.

You frowned at that.

Feyre stepped closer to you, settling her hands on your hips. There was no room to twist away as her mate settled in behind you, the heat radiating off him seeping through your shirt. They even moved in perfect sync.

Nowhere to run now.

"You're going to play our favorite game with us."

Game? The reports hadn't said anything about them liking games.

"I don't understand-"

Rhysand cut you off, "Just follow our lead."

Feyre gave your hips a squeeze, "It's fun, trust me."

You didn't know what this had to do about proving you had made a mistake in taking this job, but you didn't know what other choice you had, so you just nodded.

They led you back into the throne room, the night's revelry still in full swing. Near the back, where the tables were still piled high with food, was Keir, the aging steward speaking conspiratorially with some of the other high ranking officials of the Court. Did he know already that you had failed? If he did, he didn't show it. He didn't so much as look up from his conversation.

Something hot twisted in your stomach at the sight of him. How could you have taken a job for a male like him?

Feyre pulled your thoughts away from him as she pulled you over to the dais, where their thrones sat empty. Even though Keir wasn't paying attention, others in the crowd were.

You swallowed thickly as Rhysand slid into his rightful seat, looking every bit the High Lord he was. Feyre didn't resume her seat in his lap, however, this time she perched on the arm rest, and guided you into her former place.

Your cheeks heated, mouth dry as the High Lord looped a strong arm around your waist and positioned you more comfortable on his lap, one long leg slotting between your own.

Feyre chucked at your obvious embarrassment. "Now now, you said you'd do anything." She said into your mind.

You dared a glance at her. This wasn't what you'd meant!

"This game is much more fun if you relax," Rhys purred as he dragged his nose over your throat looking for a place to sink his teeth.

You shivered despite yourself, the warmth of him seeping into you.

Feyre gripped your chin in her hand, forcing your gaze away from where it had wandered into the crowd. Keir still wasn't paying attention, but more and more people were halting their dancing and drinking to leer at this new pet their High Lord and Lady had brought back with them.

"Eyes on us."

Rhysand's hand slid over your hip and down to your thigh. The servant's garb you'd borrowed was a thin pair of pants, and a large, hooded sweater, not the sexy, revealing gown the High Lady donned, but you still couldn't help but feel incredibly vulnerable in this position.

How were you supposed to know what to do? How was this proving you could be trusted not to take another job from Keir? Was that fool even looking this way?

Rhysand nipped at the underside of your jaw and you jumped, thoughts careening away from Keir and whatever he was doing. The High Lord's breath was warm on your neck, each nip he left along your jaw sending shivers down your spine. It was an effort to keep your eyes open, to not immediately tilt your head back against his shoulder and let him explore every inch of you as you submitted fully to him. He could make you, if he wanted, it would be all too easy for him to reach inside your mind and move you however he wanted. You'd be a liar if you said the thought didn't excite you. The thought of handing yourself over to someone with that kind of power, testing to see what they'd do with it was more tempting than you'd ever dare say aloud. And maybe the High Lady had heard those thoughts, because a moment later, she was threading her hands through your hair and tilting your head back to let Rhysand explore further.

You whimpered softly as he ran his tongue over your pulse point and then Feyre was leaning in and nipping at the other side of your neck. It was too much at once, the overwhelming scent and warmth of them had you leaning fully into Rhysand's shoulder, eyes closing. One of their hands slid under your shirt, stroking at your side, you thought it might be Feyre, but didn't dare open your eyes to look, lest this really be a dream and you'd awake alone.

"Good girl," Rhysand praised. Somehow, even in your head his voice was low and husky. His hand slid further up your thigh, testing as he drew closer to your core. The move had you squirming and Feyre responded by dragging her hand from underneath your shirt to hold your hips down. There was no escaping either of them.

You still weren't sure how you ended up in this position, but you no longer cared. All you knew was this, them, and how much more of them you needed. Distantly you wondered if this was some daemati trick, if they had slipped into your mind and convinced you to do this. You decided you didn't care if they had, not as Feyre's lips were on yours, her tongue sliding past your teeth. There wasn't a hint of wine on her lips, despite all you'd seen her drink earlier. How she did that was anyone's guess.

Rhys drew circles on the inside of your thigh with his fingers, teasing you now as he continued to nip at your throat. There'd be marks in the morning, of that you were certain.

Feyre broke apart abruptly, laughing as you chased after her. "I think she likes this game of ours."

"Shall we play some more?"

You could play it all night if they wanted. There was something intoxicating about the two of them that had you desperate for any scrap of affection they could give you.

"Yes!" You said it faster than you intended, a blush creeping it's way back up your cheeks as you realized how pathetic it sounded, especially to two high fae. "Please."

Feyre leaned over you to kiss Rhys this time, intentionally pressing herself forward so her chest brushed up against you. You arched up to press your lips against her collar bones, too scared to go lower. She hummed approvingly into Rhy's mouth and he rewarded you by dragging his hand the rest of the way up your thigh, cupping your core through your pants. You were desperate for friction now, grinding your hips into his palm, even as your lips continued to work of Feyre's collarbones. She smelled so good! Her skin soft under your lips. You wanted the time to run your lips over the smattering of freckles she'd gotten while hunting in the summer time.

Rhys' free hand slid into your hair, pulling tight as he whispered in your ear, "No marks on your High Lady. Not without my permission, understand?"

If you were of any sound mind you might have been tempted to scrape your teeth across her throat, just to see what he would do, but you knew you weren't lucky enough to get away with it after everything that had happened already. "Yes, sir."

His dark laugh rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. This was a very dangerous game, far more dangerous than any assassination attempt had ever been. Dangerous, because, for once, you were enjoying it and enjoying anything in this line of work got you in trouble.

Feyre leaned back, out of your reach, and still held by Rhys' arm around your waist, it was impossible to reach out after her. Especially now that the High lord had decided he didn't like the article of clothing between his hand and you, and was reaching for the waistband of your pants.

The blush returned tenfold. This--touching, kissing, in front of all these people was one thing, but that?

The High Lady pouted as she looked at you, her eyes lust-blown, so dark you almost couldn't see the blue. "I think you have too much on."

Before you could contemplate what that meant, she snapped her fingers and your sweater disappeared entirely.

You tried to move to cover yourself, squirming now, and she grabbed your hands with a disapproving tut. "No hiding."

Rhys' hand had slid inside your waistband, so close again your hips rocked forward, searching for him without conscious thought, even as your face heated. There was a fine line between your pleasure and sheer mortification and somehow you were still teetering between the two, torn between wanting more and wanting to sink into the floor and disappear. The crowd was watching, or at least you were pretty sure they were, at this point you were too scared to look and kept your gaze glued to where the High Lord and Lady were touching you.

"So pretty," Feyre hummed as she moved your hands up and around Rhys' neck.

There was no hiding what they were doing to you now. You might have fought them harder if Rhys' hand wasn't finally where you wanted him so desperately, a finger sliding easily into you. Your jaw dropped, a strangled sound coming out of you.

"So wet," he teased, mind to mind. "All this for us, pet?"

Pet. Toy. The High Lord's little play thing. You'd been called worse.

"Yes, sir."

"So well trained, maybe we should keep her," Feyre said as she placed a gentle kiss on your nose.

"Where'd you learn this manners, hmm?" He nipped at your ear as he slid a second finger inside you.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at the stretch, at the way he curled his fingers, hitting all the right spots. Heat coiled in your gut and you found yourself instinctively tightening your hands into the silky strands of his hair.

"Certainly not Keir," Feyre said as she brought her hands to squeeze at your breasts.

You'd had your eyes closed, lost in the bliss of Rhys' ministrations, unprepared for the new sensation of her hands on you, you let out a moan louder than was appropriate for the situation.

"Guess I'm just good at this game," I quipped weakly. The two of them working together like this was becoming overwhelming, you could barely think past the point of contact of with their hands. There was only this and them and the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach. Rhys' pace was quickening. Feyre was playing with the clasp at the center of your bra, toying with it like she was contemplating ripping it off you.

She might have, if someone hadn't cleared their throat at the base of the dais.

"What do you want Keir?" Rhys sneered, the true picture of princely boredom, as if he was not currently holding you at the cusp of an orgasm, as if his mate wasn't leaving hickey's on the exposed skin of your breasts as they spoke.

You'd thought, as you registered Keir's presence that this would be the end of it, that they would stop now that they had his attention, but Rhys was still curling his fingers inside you, stroking relentlessly as Feyre bit and sucked at your sensitive skin. You arched into her, biting down on a moan, this game be damned. Who cared about Keir? About the rest of the court? You needed them to keep touching and kissing you. This was all that mattered.

You were panting as Feyre giggled into your skin. "Doing so good for us."

"Please," you begged, grinding yourself down on Rhys palm. You were so close, just a little more.

"I hate to interrupt," Keir began.

"No you don't," said Feyre. "It's your favorite thing to do."

"But your little toy-"

"Brought us a gift for our anniversary?" Rhys finished for him.

"We know," Feyre added. "It was a really sloppy attempt at a gift."

Keir stammered, none of the words coming out right.

"She needs some training," Rhys said. "A little refining around the edges, but I think this will be a very profitable relationship."

"Just wish we knew who sent her our way," Feyre cooed.

Rhys' free hand hand came up to rest on your throat, just tight enough to make you lean your head back to look at him. The move sent heat straight to your core, your muscle tightening as you whimpered for him. "But we'll get it out of you eventually, won't we, pet?"

Keir was visibly shaking now.

"Mhmm," you whimpered.

"Come on now, where are those pretty little manners you had before?" Rhys teased, his hand suddenly stilling.

The loss of friction was too much, tears welling up in your eyes. "Yes, yes High Lord." You stammered.

His grin was feline as he started moving again, faster this time. Feyre slid behind your mental shield again, this time opening up a door in her own mind to show you what you looked like through her eyes, your pupils blown, your cheeks flushed, lips kiss swollen and red. They'd left little red marks all along your throat and chest. Then she blasted you with an image of what she still wanted you to look like, images of her between your legs, of you taking Rhys in your mouth. You tightened around Rhys' fingers.

"And you would take the word of some-" whatever word he was about to throw at you was suddenly cut off as Rhys removed his ability to speak.

"Careful how you speak, Keir."

The steward's mouth opened and closed as he tried in vain to defend himself.

Rhys waved a hand, "You clearly have nothing useful to say here, you can go." Keir spun like a top, mouth still flapping open and closed like a fish, limbs splayed awkwardly, clearly not in control of his body, until Rhys made him walk half way to the door. Once he'd been released from the High Lord's grip, he stumbled and all but ran for the door.

"Why...?" The rest of the thought eddied from your mind as Rhys curled his fingers, hitting a spot inside you that made stars dance across your vision, your orgasm barreling through you so fast you're sure you screamed their names, but didn't have the presence of mind to hear it for yourself.

"We could kill him now," Feyre said as you slumped back against Rhys' shoulder. "But what fun is that? Why show him the mercy of a quick death when we can have him looking over his shoulder every five minutes, contemplating how to beat us in this wicked little game of ours?"

"I think," Rhys cooed as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple. "That it would be much more fun to eventually turn you on him instead."

You huffed a laugh at that.

Rhys carefully removed his fingers from your core and attempted to bring them to his mouth for a taste, but Feyre beat him to it, sliding his long fingers directly into her mouth, holding eye contact with you the entire time.

You clenched your legs together, wincing at the bit of soreness you felt there.

"Besides," Rhys purred in your ear, right before he shifted you around, settling you chest to chest in his lap. "This game is just getting started, isn't that right, pet?"

[supercap2319]

"Alright, listen up. The spell requires three things: the blood of a witch, the blood of a vampire, and the blood of a werewolf." Silas addressed the Scooby Doo gang of Mystic Falls. Silas knew of a way to bring Bonnie back from the Other Side, but it was not without consequences.

Grayson nods. "We can get you blood from a werewolf. I already have blood of a witch and vampire running through my veins."

Silas nods approvingly, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Excellent. With your unique lineage providing the witch and vampire components, we're nearly set." He glances about the group, settling on Damon. "Damon, I presume you can handle securing the werewolf blood?"

"Yeah. I think wolf boy Tyler Lockwood can help." Damon grumbles with a frown. Silas smirks at Damon's response, clearly amused by his attitude. He nods, satisfied with the plan. "Good. Once we have all the necessary components, we'll begin the ritual. And with Grayson's... unique abilities, we'll have more than enough power to bring our little witch back."

Grayson nods and walks with Elena to the side. "Elena? I don't trust Silas. He's going to screw us over."Elena nods in agreement, her brow furrowed with worry as she watches Silas conversing with himself. She turns to Grayson, her voice low. "I know. But what choice do we have? We need to get Bonnie back, no matter the cost."

"Look, the moment something goes South, you take Jeremy, and you get out of town. You understand me?" Elena nods slowly. "I understand." Casually, Silas approaches the pair, having overheard enough of their conversation to know Grayson's protectiveness extends beyond just Elena. "Sweet of you to look out for sister dear Elena and baby brother Jeremy. But tell me..." Silas's voice carries a dangerous edge as he moves closer.

"What?" Grayson asked.

"What happens if I decide to double-cross you all? You seem to have a backup plan for Elena and Jeremy, but what about you, Grayson?" He chuckles darkly.

"If I die, then I'm taking you with me. You may look like Stefan, but you are not a good person." Grayson said.

A sharp, dangerous laugh escapes Silas's lips. "Ooh, how... predictable. The hybrid threatens the villain. I've heard it all before." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper."Tell me, Grayson... What exactly are you willing to sacrifice for your friends and family?"

The hybrid leans closer to Silas. "Everything." Silas holds Grayson's gaze, searching for any hint of deception. Finding none, he nods slowly, a grudging respect flickering in his ancient eyes. "Everything, hm? Now, that's what I call dedication." He straightens up, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

Grayson nods. "How did you get like this? According to textbooks, you were supposed to marry Qetsiyah. What happened?" Silas's expression darkens briefly at the mention of Qetsiyah, a flash of annoyance crossing his features before he masks it with that familiar smirk, though it seems a bit forced this time. "Well, that's a story for another time, isn't it?"

"You're damn right it is."