#I usually draw Michael with sharp eyes

[chloesimaginationthings]

This eye shape is so…

I love drawing Michael’s eyes wide and he gets the look✨

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° thinking, counting all the hours you wait

( alexis ness x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — part six in my seven petals, all poison series!! ( masterlist )

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — alexis ness x fem! reader, obsessed! ness, designer! reader, jealousy (ness), obsession (ness), unrequited feelings, not love- infatuation?, reader wants to be friends, ness wants more, not proofread!

♡ synopsis — You’re a designer hired to develop new merch for Bastard München, working closely with the players to reflect their personalities in your designs. Alexis Ness finds himself drawn to your presence—your insight, your laughter, your time—and begins to crave more. Too much more.

── .✦ you know it's good to be tough like me, but i will wait forever

The first time Alexis Ness sees you, you’re holding a sketchbook and standing in front of Michael Kaiser, speaking confidently and jotting things down while Kaiser gives vague, smug input. 

Ness doesn’t usually pay attention to outside contractors, but something about the way you move, the way your eyes light up when you talk about fabric cuts and “brand identity,” makes him pause.

You’re not just another staff member. You’re real. Creative. Alive in a way that draws him like sugar.

You’re there to design the new line of Bastard München merch, and Noa had told everyone to cooperate—meetings, interviews, and even the possibility of signed collaborations.

Ness had rolled his eyes at first. But now?

Now he’s wondering what you’ll say when you ask him what Bastard München means.

You’re not supposed to have favorites, but Alexis is surprising.

He’s polite, measured, and unexpectedly thoughtful.

When you ask about the team’s colors, he talks about contrast.

When you ask what he’d wear, he leans in close and asks, “What would you want to see me in?”

It’s teasing, but not quite flirtatious. More curious. Like he genuinely wants your opinion.

Wants to understand the you behind the clipboard and the sharp tailoring.

Your meetings become regular—longer than they need to be. At first, he offers tea from the vending machine.

Then it becomes specialty drinks he brings from local cafés. You always say you’re fine with water, but Ness insists.

“Let me spoil you a little,” he says once, almost too quiet for you to hear.

You laugh it off, brushing your hand against his wrist as you take the drink. Neither of you mentions the way your fingers linger.

The turning point is subtle.

A loose thread on your sleeve. You tug it, frustrated, and Alexis reaches across the table, brushing your hand away gently.

“You’ll ruin the seam,” he murmurs, carefully twisting the thread back in place before pressing his thumb to it.

That night, he texts you for the first time without any professional reason.

Alexis: Let me know when you get home safe.

You do. And after that, it becomes routine.

You don’t notice the shift at first. How he always seems to be the one scheduling meetings now. How he volunteers to stay behind after practice just in case you need someone to test fits or model new cuts.

But Alexis notices.

He notices everything.

You make him feel full. Of something he didn’t know he’d been starving for.

He watches the way you speak to others—Isagi, Kunigami, even Kaiser—and feels his jaw tighten. They don’t deserve your attention like he does. They don’t see you the way he does.

Ness starts arriving early to meetings. Staying late. He sends you music recs. Brings you things—little gifts. A charm he saw in a boutique that “reminded him of you.” A book you mentioned in passing. Snacks you’ve never asked for.

Your boundaries blur before you even realize they’re softening.

“You’re always taking care of me,” you say one day, smiling at him. “You really don’t have to.”

But Alexis only tilts his head.

“I want to.”

He overdoes it. Slowly. Steadily.

He starts hovering during practice. Peeking into rooms where he knows you’re working. Dropping by your desk under the guise of “checking samples.” The others tease him, but he doesn’t care. He just laughs, all sugary smiles.

Then one afternoon, he walks in and sees you laughing at something Kaiser says.

That smile. That look in your eyes. Ness freezes.

It’s his.

It should be his.

He ghosts you for a few days.

No messages. No visits.

When he finally does text, it’s clipped.

Alexis: Sorry. Was busy.

You give him space, but it gnaws at you. When he finally shows up again, you find him in the locker room, sitting alone, eyes tired.

“You okay?” you ask, crouching beside him.

He looks at you—truly looks—and then his hand reaches for yours. Fingers curling too tight.

“I don’t want to share you.”

You blink, startled. “Alexis…”

“I know I shouldn’t say that.” His voice trembles, and it hits you then—he’s not just obsessed. He’s drowning in it. “But I hate when you’re not with me.”

“Alexis, I was never—”

“You are, though.” His voice hardens. “You act like this is just a job, but it’s not. Not for me. You made me believe—”

“I didn’t make you believe anything.”

The silence after is sharp. Wounding.

His eyes narrow just slightly, the sweetness peeling back like a mask slipping.

“No,” he whispers. “You just let me.”

Alexis Ness doesn’t understand temporary.

“You don’t get it,” he continues, voice shaking now, standing in the doorway of your shared design room. “You made me want more.”

“Alexis—”

“You gave me a taste and then decided I don’t get to have the whole thing?” he asks, stepping closer. “That’s not how it works. You started this.”

You realize then that it’s not love. Not even infatuation.

It’s hunger.

He wants all of you—the time, the praise, the attention. Not because he cherishes it, but because he can’t bear the idea of not having it. Of not owning it. Of not consuming it completely.

You take distance. You stop replying late at night. You ask Ego to assign another player to help finish the final part of the line. Alexis doesn't fight it, not out loud.

But the next time you see him at a team event, his eyes follow you the whole time.

You’re in a corner, quietly talking to someone from PR. And he watches you. Drinks you in.

Not like a man looking at someone he loves.

Like a man starving all over again.

He texts you again, long after the project ends.

Alexis: You ruined me, you know.

Alexis: But I’d still wear anything you designed.

Alexis: Just say the word.

You never respond.

But the next Bastard München campaign? The one featuring Alexis Ness?

He wears a bracelet you left on the meeting table. Barely noticeable.

Except to him.

It’s the only thing he keeps from you. And he never takes it off.

i know it's short but it is so hard to write someone as the embodiment of gluttony but not LITERAL gluttony yk?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

❀ tags for this series: ❀ @silverwings920 ❀ comment to be added to this series taglist!

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[kamelika]

match made in berlin

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

your first meeting with kaiser (tw: abuse mentioned)

Rain falls on the somber city of Berlin. A young boy with blonde hair sits under a canopy of a store, bod curled up, head rested in his arms, shivering. The store owner walked outside not long after and spotted him, recognizing him as the kid who stole his bread a few weeks prior.

"It's you!"

The shopkeeper yelled, which surprised the famished kid, making him jerk up.

"Scram, get 'outta here, kid!"

The child scowled at him but quickly ran away. He was now all alone, under the sky, in a dark alley, with nothing but his trusty football. He looked down at the ground, until suddenly... The rain stopped.

Well, not completely, he supposes, he can still hear the sounds of raindrops striking the ground. He looked up and was met with an umbrella equipped with a drawing of a blue rose. He turned only to be greeted by you, eyes tinted with concerned, a nice, tidy outfit secured onto you.

"Uhm... Are you okay?"

You spoke, voice laced with sympathy.

"What's it to you? Scram, get 'outta here."

You flinched at his words, not being used to people talking like that, his soft blue eyes contradicting his sharp tongue. But who could you blame? Those were the only words he knew, being raised in a harsh environment.

"You're mean... I just wanted to help you!"

You pouted, drawing out some bread from your bag. You were pissed at him now, refusing to look at his face. He hesitantly took the food, not accustomed to such a kind gesture. You still avoided his gaze, hoping he'd say sorry, but it never came, and soon your eyes landed back on him again.

At first, he was hesitant to even take a bite, bater a not even a few seconds later, he ate the bread with glee, barely even chewing on it before swallowing.

"Careful! You might choke!"

You blurted out. He merely replied with a brief stare, before continuing to eat, a bit slower this time. You two chatted back and forth, and you learned his name at last. 'Michael Kaiser'. Such a mesmerizing name.

"Michael."

You mumble his name, letting it roll of your tongue.

"Eh, that's so hard to say. Can I just call you Mihya?"

He raises an eyebrow, exerting a face of 'what kind of abbreviation is that???', but quickly shrugs it off with a nod. He finishes the bread, and you two stayed and chatted together, umbrella still above his head. You two took turns holding the umbrella, since your hand got tired. The both of you chatted until the rain came to an end.

"That's a cool ball."

"I know."

"Can you play?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome! Can I see you play?"

"Fine, I guess..."

You two walked to somewhere with more space. He set the ball on the ground and he showed you a brief trick sorry guys I don't know soccer well lmao, i cant really explain football parts in full detail, in which you were easily amazed by. You didn't know how a kid that young was so talented.

"W-Woah. You're good!!!"

"Uhm, yeah. I know."

You two continued chatting for hours on end, and he showed you a few more tricks before you had to go.

That spot quickly became a usual meet up spot for you two. It was an unspoken routine for you to stop by there after school ended.

Whenever he was harmed by his dad, you would treat his wounds, and overall make his day much brighter and enjoyable. You always made sure to eat only half your lunch to share the rest with him. You were the anchor of his life.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Suddenly, he stopped appearing. You quickly learned that he was arrested, and you tried your best, but couldn't do anything about it. You begged and begged the officers, but they merely ignored you, seeing you as an immature child. You knew Michael didn't do that. Sure, he stole, but you could swear with your life he wasn't the perpetrator.

Years flew by and you grew older, maturing and slowly forgetting about Michael. Just as you completely forgot about his existence, you were walking to high school, passing by the place you and Michael used to meet before spotting a familiar figure. You took a good minute before finally recognizing him. It was Kaiser, but taller, with 2 rattails sticking out on the back of his head, equipped with blue ends. You couldn't bring yourself to talk to him. You figured he'd left everything in the past behind, knowing about how wounding it was. You know you'd at least have to say 'hi', but no matter what, the words wouldn't come out, and you were so frustrated with yourself because you didn't know why you couldn't greet him. You hesitantly walk away, hoping he'll stop by again tomorrow and you'll greet him then. As soon as you walked into his view, he called out.

"Y/n?"

You froze. Honestly, you were kind of relived he was the one who spoke out first. You slowly turned to face him. You gulped.

"Mihya."

[next>]

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

a/n: my writing style is inconsistent lol

requests r open bbgs

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 16

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: medical procedures; mutual pining; jealousy:

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

Michael Robinavitch had never been the jealous type. Not in med school, not in residency, not even when his younger brother got married before him and his grandmother sent him a half-pitying, half-expectant look from across the dinner table.

Jealousy required you to want something enough to fear losing it.

And he didn’t… he didn’t want Y/N Williams.

Not like that.

Except when he walked into Trauma Room 3 and saw her laughing—actually laughing—at something Whittaker said, something inside his chest bristled.

“Dr. Whittaker,” You said, pointing at the chart, “go ahead and present.”

The kid—Dean, Dennis, something too fresh-faced—grinned, like he was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. He rattled off the patient’s history, vitals, and differentials with the confident rhythm of someone who’d practiced in front of a mirror. Twice.

And you were encouraging him. Nodding, your lips curled into a smile he hadn’t seen since the Pittfest shift. Her posture relaxed, her eyes warm.

Robby folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He was wearing his usual hoodie, sleeves pushed to his elbows, arms crossed in a way that someone once told him made him look unapproachable. Good.

“Dr. Whittaker,” he cut in, keeping his voice calm but just sharp enough to draw attention. “If you’re considering intra-abdominal sepsis, what imaging are you ordering?”

The kid blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, CT with contrast?”

Robby raised a brow.

“Uh—after ultrasound, of course,” Whittaker added, cheeks flushing.

You turned to Robby, that glint in your eye. “He’s not wrong. He just skipped the warm-up.”

“I like people who skip the warm-up,” Whittaker muttered, and you laughed again.

Robby stared at the monitors. It didn’t mean anything.

It shouldn’t mean anything.

But the laugh stuck with him longer than it should’ve.

Later, they were charting side by side at the nurse’s station. You sat cross-legged in your chair, typing one-handed, your tea cup balanced on the armrest. Robby kept glancing at your screen—an old habit from residency, born from too many sign-outs where one wrong medication order unraveled hours of work.

You were fast. Organized. Your notes were clear and blunt, like you were talking through the screen.

“Who told Whittaker he was allowed to flirt with his supervisors?” he muttered, not really meaning to say it out loud.

You paused mid-type and blinked at him. “Wait, what?”

“Never mind.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a second too long. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

You squinted. “That’s your ‘I’m not fine but I don’t want to talk about it’ voice.”

He looked up, his eyes holding yours. “And that’s your ‘I’m pretending not to know how charming you are’ voice.”

That shut her up. For exactly 2.3 seconds.

Then you laughed under your breath and returned to typing. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re oblivious.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

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

It was late afternoon when things went sideways. A multi-vehicle accident was inbound. Three patients—one critical, two stable-ish—and just enough beds to make it work.

You sprang into action, already pulling gloves on as they wheeled the first patient in. Whittaker was right behind you with the other intern Santos, trying to keep up.

“She’s hypotensive,” You said, eyes flicking from the vitals to the ultrasound. “Positive FAST, left upper quadrant.”

Robby slid in beside her, noting the color of the woman’s skin paling, the sluggish response to IV fluids. “Call the OR. We’re not waiting.”

Whittaker fumbled with the phone, and you took it from him gently, already speaking to the surgical team upstairs with crisp, practiced ease.

“She’s going to need a second large bore,” you told him, already prepping.

“I’ll—uh—do it,” Whittaker offered, glancing at you.

“No time,” Robby cut in. “Y/N, you take it.”

You nodded, already moving.

It was a blur of motion—gowns, gloves, voices raised, blood pressure dropping. But through it all, Robby watched you. Not just because you were his fellow. Not just because he was responsible. But because watching you was like watching a musician fall into a perfect tempo. Calm. Sharp. Present.

When the patient was stabilized and wheeled off to surgery, you finally exhaled. Robby caught the slight tremble in your hands as you peeled off your gloves. Not enough to alarm anyone else—but he’d seen it.

“You good?” he asked quietly, stepping beside you.

You nodded, too fast. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Your eyes met his, and for a second, something flickered there. Not vulnerability exactly—but something adjacent to it. Then you looked away. “Yeah. Just adrenaline.”

Right.

Adrenaline.

—

By the time the shift was winding down, the halls had quieted. Whittaker had disappeared to “write up his patient”—which probably meant he was nervously rehearsing his signout. The rest of the team was doing what they always did: surviving.

Robby was finishing up some charting when he spotted you again, leaning on the wall near the vending machine, chewing what looked like a choc chip cookie “You’ve been quiet,” he said, approaching slowly.

You shrugged. “Just tired.”

“You always say that.”

“Because I’m always tired.”

He watched you for a moment. Your hair was pulled back messily, a smear of something on your sleeve. You looked like the job—lived-in, overstretched, maybe a little too in love with chaos. He liked that about you.

Too much.

“I saw the way Whittaker was looking at you,” he said, voice low.

You blinked. “What?”

“Earlier. When you were teaching him.”

“Oh. I think he’s just enthusiastic.”

Robby gave a short laugh. “You really don’t notice, do you?”

“Notice what?”

He turned to you fully. “He’s got a crush on you.”

You stared at him. “You’re insufferable.”

He raised an eyebrow.

You narrowed your eyes. “No way. He barely talks to me unless it’s about bowel sounds.”

“Which, for the record, is the med student equivalent of poetry.”

That pulled an unexpected snort from you. You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re making that up.”

“I’m not.”

“And what, you jealous or something?”

The silence hung between you like a challenge. He met your gaze, steady and unreadable.

“I don’t get jealous,” he lied.

You looked at him for a long time. Whatever you saw in his face made your expression soften, just a touch.

“Well, lucky for me. I’d be a terrible love triangle protagonist.”

That startled a laugh out of him. It caught him off guard—how easily you did that. Made the hospital feel like less of a warzone. Made him feel like less of a ghost walking through it.

They lingered in that space a moment too long. A moment too quiet.

Then you pushed off the wall. “I should go finish my notes.”

He nodded.

And just as you started to walk out, he spoke. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You glanced over your shoulder. And then— you smiled. Not the polite kind. The real one.

And just like that, you were gone.

He stood there for a long moment, the faint scent of your scent lingering in the air.

He didn’t get jealous.

But damn if he didn’t wish you’d stayed next to him.

[rinsthighsweat]

hi i saw your latest works and they are so good. you wrote that you write nsfw but you dont do it well so can i ask for something light if you dont mind? bllk characters who are more stoic/dominant and all that in normal life but with a very dominant s/o in bed? just headcanons if you want 🦅

Hey anon!!! Thank you so much! And sure, I tried to do it the best I could, I hope you like it, I made it like a mixture of headcanons and fanfics. You didn't name any characters so I decided to put the ones I know the most and like writing about, I hope you don't mind that! Oh yeah, also... Sorry for the delay, I had busy days.

Light nsfw! In these scenarios Rin is already an adult.

They are not dominant in everything

Rin, Barou, Kaiser, Shidou and Aiku | masterlist

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin has always been in control of his life, his training, his emotions, his career. But when you confidently take the lead in the bedroom, it shakes his world in a way he never anticipated.

The first time you pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with a mischievous smirk, he froze. His sharp eyes widened slightly before narrowing, his voice a mix of defiance and curiosity. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He tries to maintain his stoicism, but the way your hands explore his body, coupled with your commanding tone, has his breath hitching.

Rin isn’t particularly vocal, but the way his body reacts, tense muscles relaxing under your touch, the soft gasps he can’t suppress, says everything.

You teasingly call him out for being so obedient, and his face flushes red as he mutters, “I’m not… I just…” before trailing off, completely at your mercy.

Post-intimacy, he’ll try to act indifferent, turning his face away while his ears burn red. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that next time.” But deep down, he craves more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Barou Shoei

Barou doesn’t relinquish control easily, and the idea of someone dominating him initially makes him scoff. “Like hell you’re calling the shots.” But when you assert yourself, pinning him down, he’s speechless for the first time.

He fights it at first, growling lowly as if to test you, but the firm, confident way you handle him stirs something unexpected within him.

Barou is a mix of frustration and desire, his breaths coming out in heavy pants as he realizes how much he enjoys being at your mercy.

You teasingly tell him he’s more obedient than he lets on, and his prideful glare softens into something almost vulnerable. “Don’t push your luck… but keep going.”

He secretly loves the way you take control, your strength and confidence drawing out a side of him he’s never shown anyone else.

Afterward, he grumbles about being “too lenient,” but his actions betray him as he pulls you close and mutters, “Next time, I’m in charge… maybe.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser’s cocky attitude doesn’t falter easily, and when you first suggest taking the lead, he smirks and leans back, arms crossed. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, liebling.”

His confidence wavers the moment you take control, your bold movements and teasing words leaving him breathless. He tries to regain his composure but fails miserably.

Kaiser loves the way you dominate him, your assertiveness making his usual bravado crumble. His gasps and groans become more desperate the longer you keep him on edge.

He’ll try to tease you back, but his words falter as you keep him under your control. The way you smirk at his vulnerability both frustrates and excites him.

Post-intimacy, he chuckles softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “You really know how to leave a man speechless. I might let you take charge more often… if you ask nicely.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is chaos incarnate, and he thrives on unpredictability. When you take the lead, his initial reaction is pure excitement. “Oh, so you’ve got a wild side, huh? Bring it on.”

He’s the most vocal of them all, moaning, growling, and tossing out filthy comments that only spur you on further. “That’s it, babe. Show me what you’ve got.”

Despite his playful resistance, he loves being at your mercy, the way you tease and control him making his mind spin.

Shidou is all about pushing limits, so he encourages you to be as dominant as you want, his cocky grin never fading even as he’s begging for more.

Afterward, he’s sprawled out with a satisfied smirk, panting as he pulls you into his arms. “Damn, you’re good. Next time, let’s see who can outdo who.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Oliver Aiku

Aiku is smooth and confident, used to being the one in control. But when you turn the tables on him, his usual charm slips, replaced by something more raw and vulnerable.

He watches you with wide eyes as you push him down, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh? Didn’t expect this from you… but I like it.”

He’s surprisingly submissive under your dominance, his deep groans and soft murmurs betraying how much he enjoys being led.

Aiku can’t stop complimenting you throughout, his voice husky as he whispers, “You’re incredible, you know that? Keep going.”

He’s left in awe of your confidence and control, his usual suave demeanor replaced with genuine admiration.

Afterward, he’s all smiles, pulling you close and tracing lazy circles on your back. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Guess I’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

© 2025 rinsthighsweat — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[kaleidoscopecth]

Just Take Off Your Mask

MDNI!!!!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: after going MIA for a few days, luke shows up at you and your best friend michael’s shared apartment on halloween, desperate to make amends.

warnings: smut, overstimulation, toy usage, slight knife play, blink and you’ll miss it hint of a slightly toxic relationship

word count: 4.6k

title: robbers by the 1975

a/n: Okkkkayyyyy, so I saw someone request a Ghostface Luke fic somewhere and it got me thinking. Originally, I wrote this with an OC from a fic i’m working on, but ended up switching to an x reader format. This is my first post here on Tumblr, so bear with me if it’s a little wonky or if I make any mistakes. I also edited this myself, so if you catch anything I missed, please let me know!

anyway, this is for my twt gc, i love u freaks

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sat slouched on the couch of your shared apartment with Michael, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in a futile attempt to find something that could distract you from Luke’s absence. No matter how hard you tried, your focus kept slipping.

Michael had begged you to come with him to a Halloween party earlier, but you’d refused. Not for the first time, you had turned down something you would have enjoyed—all because of Luke.

Your gaze drifted to the phone on the coffee table, the absence of notifications glaring back at you like a silent taunt. You forced your eyes back to the TV, but your thoughts refused to cooperate. Three days. It had been three days since he disappeared without a word. He’d promised to spend Halloween with you, yet he hadn’t shown.

The creeping fear you always tried to suppress began to rise. It was the same fear that gripped you whenever Luke disappeared, leaving you in the dark without so much as a message to say he was okay. You hated how easily it consumed you, how it made you question what you even meant to him. Were you really his girlfriend? Or just a convenience?

Before the spiral could go any deeper, your phone buzzed sharply, its ringtone breaking the heavy silence. You nearly launched yourself off the couch, scrambling to grab the device, only to fumble it in your haste. The phone skittered across the table, but you snatched it up, heart racing as you answered.

Luke’s name flashed on the screen.

Your heart leapt, but you forced your tone to remain steady as you answered. “Was starting to think you were the victim of a bad horror movie,” You mused, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your pajama pants while you awaited his response.

The line crackled with his heavy, slightly muffled breathing before he finally spoke. “So,” he began, drawing out the word, his tone laced with cocky amusement. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Your brow furrowed at his breathy voice, noticeably deeper than usual. “Yeah,” You replied, the confusion in your tone clear. “It’s you, dummy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, sending a shiver down your spine. “Open your door, Y/ N,” Luke drawled, his voice dripping with something dark and teasing. “You’re looking… lonely.”

You froze, pulse quickening. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked, scrambling off the couch and padding cautiously toward the door. “You can’t see inside.”

Your hand hovered over the handle, thoughts racing.

Luke didn’t answer, offering only a low chuckle from the other side of the door. Irritation bubbled in your chest as you gripped the doorknob, mentally rehearsing a speech about the importance of communication. With a sharp exhale, you flung the door open, ready to confront him—only to freeze mid-breath.

You let out a loud gasp, any annoyance momentarily forgotten.

Luke stood there, leaning casually against your doorway, dressed head to toe in a Ghostface costume. The dark fabric clung to his broad shoulders, the mask in place, giving him an eerie, almost theatrical presence. Your eyebrows shot up as your eyes swept over him, caught between surprise and intrigue.

Slowly, with deliberate precision, Luke slid the mask up, revealing his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. His hair was artfully messy, most likely due to the mask. His pupils were wide and dark, the dim light catching the sharp gleam of his lip ring as it contrasted against the soft pink of his slightly parted lips.

A lazy, knowing smile spread across his face, one corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to send a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help the way your lips parted in response, your gaze lingering on him longer than you intended.

“Happy Halloween,” he drawled, hanging up the phone his voice low and smooth, as if he had no idea—or perhaps full knowledge—of the effect he was having on you.

“Happy Halloween?” You echoed, anger surging through you as you stepped aside enough to let Luke inside. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Luke didn’t waste any time, grabbing your face in his gloved hands and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Even though you were mad, more than mad, the feeling of his lips against yours was enough to send a shiver down your spine, your hands instinctively intertwining behind his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice low and earnest as he kissed along your jawline. His hands moved to your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the breakfast island near the door. His lips trailed down the sensitive column of your neck, licking, nipping, and leaving you gasping for air. "Let me make it up to you."

Your eyes fluttered shut as heat pooled in your stomach, but you fought the pull. "No," you sighed, trying to steady your voice. Luke pulled back just enough to fix you with an exaggerated pout.

"I'm mad," you added, your tone unconvincing even to yourself.

Luke rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as his hands settled on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Sure you are," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. Slowly, his hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt.

The rough texture of his gloved fingers against you soft skin made your breath hitch, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine despite your resolve to stay annoyed.

“I’m serious,” You insisted, your frown deepening. You hated how easily your body betrayed you, responding to Luke’s touch despite the simmering anger still coursing through you.

“So am I,” Luke replied, flashing that infuriatingly charming lopsided grin—the one that made your stomach flip no matter how mad you wanted to be. “And I really want to make it up to you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, your hand hesitating before tracing the line of his stubbled jaw. The contrast of roughness against your fingertips sent a shiver down your spine. “I want to stay mad at you,” You murmured, though your voice softened, betraying your resolve.

“Then stay mad,” Luke teased, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in to nip at your earlobe. His breath was warm against your skin, making your heart race. “It’ll make it more fun. Please, baby, I missed you.”

Your resolve crumbled further at the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly being replaced by something softer. “I can’t be mad when you look at me like that,” you grumbled, your eyes fluttering closed as the heat of his lips against your neck made your breath hitch.

You felt him grin against your skin. "Good thing I brought a mask, then," he whispered huskily. With a teasing laugh, he pulled back just enough to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was harsh, needy, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands roamed up your thighs, igniting a trail of fire with every touch.

Abruptly, Luke pulled away, leaving you breathless. Sliding the Ghostface mask back over his face, he tilted his head, the eerie blankness of the mask only adding to the tension.

Your breathing quickened as you stared at him, the stark white mask concealing his face but doing nothing to hide the magnetic pull between them. The faintest shiver of excitement coursed through you at the sight, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

Without a word, Luke swept you off the counter, eliciting a soft yelp of surprise. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bedroom.

Luke dropped you onto the bed with little ceremony, his posture dominating as he loomed over you. Tilting his head again, he studied you intently, his breathing heavy. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice muffled but firm behind the mask. Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled a small compact knife from his pocket. He brought the tip of the blade to your jawline, dragging it lightly along her skin without breaking it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost breathless.

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew Luke would never hurt you—he would rather die than see you in harm's way—but the adrenaline coursing through your veins only heightened your excitement. Slowly, you nodded.

Your hands moved on instinct, crossing your arms to grip the hem of your shirt. With one swift movement, you pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. You could feel Luke's gaze on you even through the mask, his presence heavy and electrifying.

Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra, letting it slip down your arms and onto the bed. The cool air brushed your bare skin, making you shiver as you waited, your breath hitching in anticipation of what he’d do next.

Slowly, Luke dragged the tip of the knife along your skin, never pressing hard enough to break it. The cool, faintly ticklish sensation sent a cascade of goosebumps down your arms. When the blade traced lazy circles around your nipple, your breath hitched, your body responding to his calculated movements.

"Take off your pants," he commanded, his voice low and steady behind the mask.

"Leave the panties on."

You nodded, fingers fumbling slightly as you shimmied out of your pajama pants. The intensity of his gaze—or what you imagined was his gaze behind the mask—kept you on edge, anticipation crackling in the air between the two of you.

Without saying a word, Luke pushed you back onto the mattress, his hands firm yet careful. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned and began rummaging through your bedside drawer.

Your stomach fluttered as you realized exactly what he was looking for. Your throat went dry as he pulled out your vibrator—a bright pink wand you’d grown far too accustomed to during Luke's recent absence.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, pulse quickening as his grip tightened around the toy. "Looks like you've been keeping busy," he murmured, his tone tinged with amusement as he tilted his head. The mask obscured his face, but you could imagine the smug grin beneath it.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Someone had to pick up the slack."

Luke chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, I plan to make up for it. But first..." Luke clicked the vibrator on, the low hum slicing through the quiet tension of the room as he stepped closer. "Let's see how well you've been taking care of yourself."

Instead of removing your underwear, he pressed the vibrator directly against your clothed clit. The sensation was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You arched your back, a gasp tumbling from your lips as your thighs trembled involuntarily.

Even with the thin barrier of your panties, the vibrations were overwhelming. Luke stood silently, watching your every reaction, the anonymity of the mask amplifying the heat between you two .

Your breath hitched as you glanced at him, the stark white of the mask hiding his expression, but you didn't miss the way his free hand slid down to rub against the growing strain in his pants. The sight sent another wave of desire crashing through you.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Luke murmured, his voice dripping with guilt and heat as he pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

He leaned over you, bracing himself with one hand on the headboard while the other held the toy steady against your soaked panties.

"Sorry I left you all alone to take care of yourself. Bet you're so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

You let out a strangled moan, your hips bucking instinctively against the relentless vibrations.

"Yes," You whimpered, your voice trembling. Your head tilted back as waves of pleasure coursed through you, thighs shaking uncontrollably. You gripped the bed covers like a lifeline, your fingernails digging into the fabric as your body tensed.

The wetness soaking through your underwear made it impossible for you to ignore how close you were. Your clit throbbed, oversensitized but still chasing the high that was just out of reach. The familiar burn of your orgasm built steadily in your core, your breaths coming in sharp gasps.

Luke watched you intently, his masked head tilted in mock curiosity. The tension in his body was palpable, his free hand twitching as though resisting the urge to touch you further.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hand shot up to remove the mask, desperate to see the expression on his face, to connect with him beyond the teasing. But Luke caught your wrist with lightning speed, his gloved fingers wrapping tightly around your arm.

"Ah, ah," he tutted, a playful edge to his voice. "You hate me, remember? Let me make it up to you without ruining the fun. No need to see my infuriating face."

Infuriatingly beautiful, you thought to yourself, biting back the words. Your breath hitched as the vibrations pushed you closer to the brink. "Please, Luke," you pleaded, your voice cracking with desperation. "I want to come."

Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that Luke was smirking under his mask, staring at your squirming body with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, you will,” Luke chuckled. “But let me enjoy my apology, too.”

Luke's gloved hand slid down to your chest, gripping your soft flesh with a possessive hunger. His fingers kneaded your breast before pinching your hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your already oversensitized body. The sensations were overwhelming, and you let out a breathless gasp, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold yourself together.

"I'm so sorry," Luke murmured again, his voice a low rasp that seemed to reverberate through you. The apology was a trigger, pushing you completely over the edge. Your body tensed, and you came with a sharp, breathless cry, your eyes squeezing shut so tightly you feared you’d never open them again. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure wracked your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

Your hand instinctively reached up to grip Luke's forearm, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as the intensity of your orgasm left you shaking uncontrollably.

"That's it," Luke purred, his voice velvety and low, laced with satisfaction. "Good girl." But even as your body fell limp beneath him, the vibrator remained pressed against your clit, the relentless hum prolonging you overstimulation.

You whimpered, your thighs twitching as the sensitivity became almost unbearable. You squirmed beneath him, your breaths shallow and ragged. "Luke-" you gasped, pleading for mercy, but your words were swallowed by another tremor that shook you to your core.

Luke tilted his head, watching you writhe beneath him with a smug satisfaction that even the mask couldn't conceal. "Oh, no, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I don't think l've apologized enough yet."

"Stay still for me," he commanded, his tone soft but firm as he reached for the knife he had discarded on the nightstand. The metallic click echoed in the room as he flipped it open, the gleam of the blade catching the dim light. He dragged it lightly across your skin, pressing just enough to leave faint red marks in its wake but never breaking the surface. The deliberate slowness of his movements made your core pulse with aching anticipation.

“Luke, please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as unshed tears blurred your vision. The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, heat spreading through your body like wildfire. “I’m so close—please—”

Just as you neared the edge, Luke lifted the vibrator from your clit, drawing a sharp, desperate cry of protest from your lips.

"I'm making this up to you, pretty girl," he said in a low, intoxicating tone, his voice laced with an almost possessive intensity. "Every second you were left alone, I'll make up for. I promise."

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and

falling as your trembling hands gripped the sheets. You nodded eagerly, your mind clouded with desire, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

Luke's gloved fingers trailed down your flushed skin, his touch featherlight yet electrifying. The cold blade followed the curve of your chest, gliding down your stomach in an excruciatingly slow path. The contrast between the cool steel and the warmth of your skin sent shivers coursing through you, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

Without warning, Luke pressed the vibrator back against your throbbing clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. Your body jolted at the sudden onslaught of sensation, the relentless hum pushing you closer to the brink once again.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his masked face tilting as if studying your reaction. His words, his touch, and the intoxicating rhythm of the vibrator all worked together to unravel you completely.

"Do you think you could forgive me?" Luke mused aloud, his voice muffled but still dark and teasing through the mask. "Or was it worth the wait? God i, you're so wet, baby. I can't wait to see that pretty little pussy. Can't wait to fuck it."

You let out a soft, broken moan, biting the inside of your cheek as his filthy words sent another rush of heat straight to your core. The vibrator rested against your oversensitive clit, its hum reverberating through you, while Luke's gloved hand slowly traveled up and down your trembling thigh.

"Please, Lu," you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of your desperation. "I need more. I want more."

Luke chuckled, low and sinful, dragging the knife across your stomach with deliberate slowness. He traced lazy patterns on your skin, careful not to press too hard, his gentleness juxtaposed with the danger of the blade. The contrast made your head spin, desire clouding your every thought.

"You want more?" he echoed mockingly. "So greedy, aren't we?" His grip on your thigh tightened, and the blade shifted lower, gliding over your panties with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk.

"Say it," Luke demanded, his tone dropping, leaving no room for refusal. "Tell me you want my cock. That's what you're begging for, isn't it? Say it."

You shivered, cheeks wet with tears that streamed freely down your face as you let out a strangled cry. "Please, Luke, I want your cock. Fuck me—please—"

Luke's chuckle was dark and satisfied as he moved the knife with precision, slicing through the delicate fabric of your panties in one swift motion. The shredded material slid down your legs, leaving you bare and utterly exposed to his gaze.

For a moment, you held your breath as the vibrator's relentless hum continued to torment you, but mercifully, Luke pulled it away. Your thighs quivered as the overwhelming sensations subsided slightly, only for your need to grow even stronger under his unwavering attention.

Luke tossed the ruin fabric aside. “Such a shame,” He whispered, climbing on the bed and working open the button of his jeans. “I really liked those.” His gloved hands grabbed your trembling thighs, spreading them open enough to make space for himself.

He took his time admiring you, wet and glistening before him. Although the mask hid his face, you could still hear his heavy breathing. You didn’t doubt that he was devouring your body with his eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He whimpered, his gloved thumb brushing over your swollen clit, making your hips buck up in response. “So ready for me, aren’t you? This is what you’ve been thinking about, haven’t you? Me fucking you until you can’t even raise your head.”

“Yes,” You whispered, shaking with anticipation as your eyes flickered down to where he strained against his underwear. “Luke— I need you, please.”

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, his thumb still teasing your clit. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled down his underwear, his erection quickly freed from its confines.

Luke's tip was flushed and slick with precum as he wrapped a gloved hand around his length, guiding it to your entrance with an infuriating slowness. "You've been such a good girl for me," he murmured, dragging himself along your slick folds and pausing to tease your swollen clit. His voice was thick with desire, each word dripping with intent.

"But do you think you can forgive me?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but before a single word escaped, Luke thrust into you with no warning. Your breath hitched as a sharp cry tore from your lips, back arching off the mattress as he stretched you in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. The days without him only amplified the sensation, the ache and fullness making your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his voice slightly strained and breathless in your ear. He pressed deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt and stopping briefly to enjoy the feeling of it, of your walls wrapped tightly around him. “You feel so fucking good, so good f’me.”

“Only for you,” You gasped, feeling his gloved hand as it settled against your hip and gripped tightly. His other hand braced against the mattress next to your head.

“Y/N,” He rasped, still not moving. You clenched around him, whimpering in a desperate attempt to get him to move again. “I missed you so much.”

"I missed you,” You gasped, your voice a soft whimper as you writhed beneath him. The white mask loomed above you, adding a tantalizing mystery to the moment. You couldn't see his face, but you could imagine it perfectly—his blue eyes screwed shut, his teeth digging into the black lip ring he always toyed with when he was consumed by desire.

Your body tightened around him, adjusting to his size as waves of pleasure spread through you. Each second felt like an eternity, your core burning with need as your fingers clutched at his forearms for stability. "Lu," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "Please, I need you to move."

Luke's low chuckle reverberated through the room, the sound dark and teasing, making you clench around him involuntarily. He hissed sharply, the grip on your hip tightening as his gloved fingers pressed into your soft skin. "You're so needy, baby," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug amusement.

But he didn't make you wait any longer.

Slowly, he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intent. The drag of him inside you sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, and your head fell back against the pillows, a moan spilling from your lips.

Luke’s hips snapped hungrily against you, setting a punishing pace that made you screw your eyes shut in pleasure. He watched you writhe beneath him, your moans filling the room and mixing in with his.

You couldn’t help the way your body responded to Luke’s grunts and gasps, and you arched against him— the friction driving you wild. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm and overstimulation, so every thrust made you see stars.

“You feel so good around me,” He whimpered, his voice muffled by the mask, but the strain in his tone was evident. “So tight and warm.”

You whimpered, your legs tightening around Luke’s waist as he continued to fuck into you. The mask obscured your view of his face, but the way his body moved with such fervor made it clear that he was just as affected as you were.

His chest heaved with every thrust, and your arms slid to his broad shoulders in search for an anchor. “Luke—“ You gasped. “Harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Luke laughed darkly, his hands tightening on your waist enough that she thought it might leave bruises. You found that you didn’t quite mind. “So fucking greedy,” He growled. “But you’re such a good girl, and I can’t say no to you.”

Luke’s pace picked up. His thrusts grew harder and deeper, more desperate as he felt you clench around him. The sound of your bodies clashing together and moans filled the room, and you felt yourself begin to grow close again.

Your head trashed against the pillow. “I’m close,” You sobbed, the intensity making your body fizzle with energy. “Oh, God.” Your nails dug into Luke’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Y/N,” He commanded. Luke leaned his masked face down, brushing against your ear. “Show me how much you missed me.”

His words were all the permission you needed, arching your back off the bed as a second, more forceful orgasm washed over you. A broken moan escaped your lips, your heels digging into the small of Luke’s back.

“That’s it,” Luke cooed, his voice filled with raw desire and pride. “So beautiful when you come for me.”

Your walls fluttered around him and you whimpered, meeting his hips with your own as you rode out your high.

But Luke didn't relent. Instead, he pulled off his mask, revealing his flushed, sweaty face.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his movements never slowing as his hips continued to thrust into you with relentless force.

You let out a strangled yell, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation. "Lu—" Your voice cracked as you gasped, breathless. "I can't—too much—"

But Luke didn't seem to hear you, driven by something primal, his need for you blinding.

“No,” He growled. “You can take it, baby, you’re doing so good. I’m not finished apologizing yet.” His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing firm, harsh circles on you.

You whimpered, shaking your head. But the newfound attention to your sensitive bud rekindled the flame low in your belly. The buildup was so much faster this time, so much more intense and tears slid down your face.

Luke's rhythm faltered, his movements growing erratic as his breathing became heavier. "God, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with raw desire. "So fucking perfect."

The tidal wave building inside you finally crashed, pulling you under with an intensity that left you breathless. You screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, a release so powerful it left you trembling uncontrollably. Warmth flooded between them, wetness pooling beneath you and soaking the mattress.

Luke froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed what had just happened.

"Holy shit, Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with awe and arousal. "You squirted—"

The slickness and the rhythmic tightening of your walls around him pushed him past the edge he'd been teetering on. With a guttural growl, Luke buried his face in your neck, his body trembling as he drove into you one last time, deep and hard.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of your neck. You were breathing heavily, your mind a foggy mess as you looked into your boyfriend’s deep blue eyes.

He slid down your thighs, gently prying them open before leaning in to lick you clean. You let out a tired whimper, your body still slick and hypersensitive. The touch of Luke's tongue sent shivers through you—equal parts pleasure and overstimulation.

When he was satisfied, he rolled off you and climbed out of bed, peeling off his soaked costume while you watched in a cozy, contented silence. Once he was done, Luke settled back beside you, brushing a tender kiss against your lips, a soft contrast to the intensity that you had just shared.

When Luke pulled away and glanced at the mess on the mattress, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So, I’m taking this as your way of saying you’ve forgiven me?” he teased, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your still-trembling thigh.

You ran your hands through his messy, sweat-dampened hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “I don’t know,” you murmured, a teasing smile curving your lips. “Throw in a Plan B, and we’ll call it even.”

Luke chuckled, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to smirk. “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

send in your requests pls!!! hope you guys enjoyed 🤞

[deonsx]

i saw you were taking requests o((>ω< ))o

i hc yukimiya, kaiser, and oliver to have the comfy but stylish fashion sense(lol), can i request them with reader who has a darker style like goth or vkei?

Hiii dear!! firstly in the event i write the characters I will write and unfortunately just kaiser here (I only write characters whose behavior I understand, so I can imagine them, but I don't have enough information about the others sorry(´-ω-`) lets add sae

Kaiser Michael

Kaiser, ever the center of attention with his magnetic charisma and effortlessly stylish flair, strolls confidently through the crowd. By his side is you the striking contrast to his golden aura. Your dark, layered outfit, inspired by a fusion of gothic elegance and visual kei extravagance, turns just as many heads. Your presence radiates mystery, drawing curious glances wherever you walk together

Kaiser grins, adjusting the collar of his jacket as he leans closer to you “I swear, people are staring at us because of me” he teases, his voice dripping with smug amusement “Or maybe they’re just not used to seeing someone as stylish as me with someone so… darkly radiant”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smirking “Or they’re wondering why a golden retriever is trying to keep up with a black panther” The playful jab makes his grin widen “Touché, mein dunkler Stern”

The two of you pause at a stall selling handmade accessories. Kaiser’s eyes gleam as he spots a black lace choker adorned with a silver crescent moon. He picks it up, holding it toward you “This would suit you” he declares with absolute confidence, then adds with a teasing smirk “But you’d look even better wearing something of mine”

You snort, crossing your arms. “You mean like your ego? Sorry, it’s a bit too heavy for my neck”Undeterred, Kaiser steps closer, lowering his voice “Keep talking, and I might just buy it for you anyway. A perfect gift for my perfect little shadow”

The faintest blush creeps up your neck, and you quickly divert your attention to another stall. But Kaiser follows, his laughter soft but triumphant as he takes his place beside you, unfazed by your aloof demeanor

As the night continues, you find yourself grudgingly enjoying his over-the-top compliments and relentless attempts to get a smile from you. By the time you leave, he’s carrying several small items he insisted on buying for you a delicate ring, a black-embroidered scarf and of course the choker

Sae Itoshi

Sae walks in, exuding his usual cool, detached confidence. Dressed in his signature minimalist yet high-end fashion, he glances around with faint disinterest, his sharp eyes scanning the room for anything worthy of his attention. Then he notices you

You stand near a dimly lit display of abstract sculptures, your goth or visual kei-inspired attire making you an arresting contrast to the sterile white walls and muted tones of the gallery. Your layered outfit is a work of art itself dark lace, leather accents, and intricate accessories that seem to tell a story all their own. The black polish on your nails gleams as you hold a glass of wine, your demeanor composed and enigmatic. Sae’s gaze lingers a moment too long

“Interesting taste” he comments, stepping closer. His voice is low and measured, as if he’s assessing the situation with the same precision he brings to the pitch. You glance at him, arching a brow “The art or me?”

He doesn’t flinch at your boldness. Instead, his lips curve ever so slightly a rare hint of amusement “Both, I suppose. Though one of them is harder to read” You tilt your head, intrigued but refusing to let him rattle you. “Let me guess you prefer things simple, minimal, and predictable”

Sae’s smirk grows “Not quite. I just appreciate when something stands out. Like this…” He gestures toward the piece you were studying a sleek, modern sculpture with jagged, chaotic edges “Or you”

You chuckle softly, meeting his intense gaze “Flattery from a guy like you? Color me impressed”Sae shrugs, his tone nonchalant but his eyes sharper than ever “It’s not flattery. Just an observation”

The two of you fall into an easy, if slightly sharp-tongued, conversation. Sae’s reserved demeanor contrasts with your dark, vibrant energy, but neither of you seem fazed. As the evening wears on, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to your unapologetic individuality, while you find his quiet intensity more captivating than you expected

Before the night ends, Sae leans in closer, his voice softer but no less confident “I don’t usually go to these things, but I’m glad I did tonight. You’re… different”

“Different how?” you ask, feigning disinterest but feeling your heart skip a beat. Sae’s gaze locks with yours, his smirk returning “Let’s just say you’re not as predictable as I expected. I’d like to see more of that”

Enjoy!

[slashersdaddy]

Hallo! I absolutely love Your writing! Can you make Another writing about Slasher x S/O that Accidentally Kill The Slasher Victim/Target? But with Jason, Michael, Brahms And Maybe Stu? I'm sorry if it was Too much To Ask. Take your time!

Of course! I love drawing for those guys!!!! I appreciate the support for my writing! Its not too much at all! I went ahead with using GN reader, since you didn't specify what gender, and i like writing GN anyhow! AS USUAL! MDNI: ALSO THERE ARE CLEARLY MENTIONS OF MURDER, ALSO BLOOD AND GORE+ A MAKEOUT SCENE

Authors note at the verrrryy end ;)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason's eyes raked over your blood soaked form, his mind reeling as you stood- over the blood soaked body. Hands shaking as you opened and closed your mouth several times, trying to find your words, but alas; you found nothing. Now dont get him wrong, Jason thought the look of you, soaked in blood was beautiful, but frightening- as this meant he had failed at keeping the victims away from the cabin.

No, failed at knowing where the victims were, and that in of itself was a grave crime. He walked towards you, lowering his blood drenched machete to the floor and pulling you into his broad chest, a low rumble of a hum escaping him. Jason is a man of few words, especially in times of stress, being mostly mute, but his voice- rough with misuse and drowning, came through the air like a soft comfort "I'm so sorry teddy bear, dont worry, your safe now" His tender words soothed you, and you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace, a breath heaving out of your chest that you didn't even realize you had been holding. Tenderly he led you to the small bathroom, running the water while sitting on the edge of the tub, you nestled into his lap as he drew the hot bath.

Soon the tub was full and Jason carefully and methodically removed your clothes, just as you found your words. "I-I'm sorry Jase, i just- they came in and i-" Your shaking voice pierced his cold heart like a sharp blade, his rough fingers stroking your hair, his blue yes finding yours under his mask as he lowered your shaking form into the warm water "Its alright, dont worry" He gently rubbed the blood off your trembling form with a wet rag, his eyes soft and calm as he cleansed your form. You sat in the bath for well over an hour, his silent form just rubbing away all of the blood until the water had turned a deep crimson and run cold.

As you rose from the bath, he wrapped a large towel around you. The towel was large and smelt of the forest and petrichor, mixing with Jason's scent as he carried you to your shared bedroom, laying you tenderly on the bed, pulling the blankets back and wrapping around you as though you were his stuffed animal, his hands tangling in your hair as he scratched your scalp with a contented hum.

Before you fell asleep only one thought crossed your mind- "He's right, I'll be fine, as long as i have him"

Michael Myers

As you watched, in seemingly slow motion as the would be victim lunged at Michael your instincts took over- your hands grasping a nearby butchers knife as you threw your body onto the attacker, driving the knife into his chest. Once, Twice, Three times. Before strong hands pulled you off and Michael's soothing voice broke your haze. "Its over. He's dead dove" The nickname he had called you for so long felt wrong in that moment as you began to shake, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud clatter, your hands flying over your mouth, the warm blood covering you a sickening sensation.

Michaels piercing eyes trailed your body, searching for wounds. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as he saw you, his beautiful dove, drenched in blood and gore- as though you were his very own angel he was corrupting- it was exhilarating.

But alas- he pushed those thoughts aside in favor of hugging you close, his strong arms trapping you in his warmth, the soft thumping of his heart soothing your frayed nerves. Michael took you to the bathroom, guiding your shaken form, his large hand rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. Michael knew he needed to focus on you right now, and not in the way his mind initially went when he saw you- stabbing the man who was meant to be his victim. So he sat on the toilet, running the bath till it was full, holding your body close to his own and kissing your face, to ease your stress, it was a silly thing, since he was really just smooshing your face with his mask, but it made you smile, and to Michael that's all that mattered. Once the water was up to the brim Michael stripped you, the clothes hitting the floor with a wet disgusting squelch as he put you into the water, grabbing his body wash and washing you with it. Normally he didn't like you using his soap, a peculiarity thing he had, but right now, he figured he'd rather you smell like him than like some wimp. so he worked on cleansing your body, hands nimble and soft on your flesh as he tended to you as though you were a frightened lamb.

Soon you found yourself in the living room once more, donned in one of Michaels oversized t-shirts and a pair of your own underwear, curled in the Halloween killers lap atop the couch, resting your head on his chest while you watched 'nightmare before Christmas' an old favorite of yours that Michael rarely sat though, not without busying himself with something else, but tonight, just for his little dove, he would sit with you, and let you hide in him while taking in the comfort of a familiar movie.

Brahms Heelshire

As your weapon of choice- a large metal pipe you had seen laying around made contact with the mans skull your eyes widened- the sickening crunch much louder than you ever thought it could be, the scream of pain cut short as his jaw was mangled, his body slumping to the floor, thrashing as he passed. Your mind reeled, and you found yourself leaned over- puking up what you had eaten earlier, it was sickening- the smell of death- the-the way the blood pooled in the carpet, surly to leave a stain.

The way your mind had rushed with dopamine at the way you smashed his skull. It was all too much, too much for you to bear. You honestly hadn't even felt Brahms arms wrap around your torso, or him pulling you into his chest until you felt the world stop spinning and looked up to see you were in the kitchen, sitting on a chair while he busied himself with making you tea, his head perking up at the sound of you moving and turning to you, his voice cherry as always "You are so so good, you followed the rules so well honeysuckle!"The endearing term brought you back down to reality- right, you HAD to do it, for Brahms, for his safety and so he wouldn't be hurt- it was only normal right? You reasoned with yourself, after all you took care of him, and he shouldn't deal with any more pain than he already had, you nod to yourself as he sets the cup in front of you, the scent overwhelming any lingering scents on you, lavender and chamomile, a calming sweet scent that rose to your nose quickly.

Brahms hands were gentle as he began to massage your tense shoulders, nuzzling into the back of your neck as you slowly rose the cup to your lips, taking a small slow sip of the liquid gold.

The rest of the night was a blur, Brahms leading you to your room, tucking you in and placing his doll beside you on the bed before taking his station near the door, watching you with a small smile as you cuddled into the warm blankets "That's right honeysuckle- your mine forever"

Stu Matcher:

Stu's eyes roamed over your blood soaked form as you tried desperately to tell him you weren't in fact the killer; but your words failed you.

only for Stu to laugh and smile at you shaking his head, walking over the body at your feet to pull you into an embrace, whispering in your ear- voice low and rumbling as he said "Oh I know that sweet thing~ its okay, you were just doing your best to survive, but you dont have to be scared of any big bad killer- ill protect you my little lamb" His voice was like honey- but held a chilling realization for you, the guy you had killed- he wasn't the Ghostface killer; rather your loving boyfriend was. The feeling was like a tidal wave crashing into you, but so soon followed by relief.

Stu wouldnt abandon you; he would stay even with the blood on both your hands nothing changed, you realiized as he crashed his lips against yours in a dominating and affectionate moment.

The kiss was deep and powerful, leaving you breathless as he pulled away, a strand of saliva connecting you for just a moment. snapped as Stu licked his lips "Its okay, now lets get this asshole in the ground yeah?" He asked, his usual playful demeanor coming back, and so you nodded, taking the spare Ghostface mask he held out "And on and on it goes"

AUTHORS NOTE: I ADORED writing this, especially Stu's part; if enough interest is shown (Or the parasites demand ;P) I may make that a whole fic and not a snippet; but that remains to be seen~ Happy spooky month my lovely little freaks!

[strawberry-bubblef]

Hi! It’s me again! I really like the request you made. I was wondering if you can make Jade Leech x Fem! Reader where they’re both singers for the Monstro Lounge and they sing ‘Sway’ by Michael Buble

Jade Leech x Fem! reader singing "Sway"

The Monstro Lounge was buzzing softly, a perfect blend of elegance and tranquility. The faint hum of conversations and clinking glasses echoed in the dimly lit space. There was a sense of anticipation in the air tonight,an unspoken excitement that had spread like wildfire among the guests. The place was packed, and for good reason: tonight’s performance would feature not only one of the Lounge’s star singers but also the charismatic Jade Leech.

You stood backstage, fingers lightly tapping against the microphone stand. Your heartbeat was a little faster than usual, your nerves already bubbling to the surface. This was nothing new for you; performing at the Lounge had long since become second nature. But tonight, you weren’t performing alone.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd fell silent as the music started to play. A soft piano intro filled the room, the melody slow and inviting. The stage lights above you flared to life, casting a warm glow over the intimate space. The opening notes of Sway echoed through the room, and you allowed the music to settle around you like a cloak.

You leaned into the microphone, taking a deep breath before your voice melted into the melody.

"When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway..."

Your voice was rich and full of warmth, smooth like honey as it caressed the first verse. The crowd’s attention was immediately locked on you, their gazes fixed. But your focus was on one person,Jade.

His eyes were fixed on you as he stood beside you, his usual charming smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wore his usual composed demeanor, but something about the glint in his eyes made it clear that he was enjoying the moment as much as you were. His hand was steady on the microphone as he waited for his turn, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was intense,calculating.

And then, as the melody shifted, Jade’s deep, rich voice joined the music, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more..."

His voice was everything you imagined it would be: smooth, hypnotic, full of effortless control. He was a master at drawing people in with his presence, and the way he let his voice glide over each word made your pulse quicken. You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, his gaze unwavering, as if challenging you to keep up.

As the song progressed, you swayed gently, caught up in the rhythm of the music and the chemistry between you and Jade. There was something so magnetic about him, something that made it hard to focus on anything else in the world. The music swirled around you both like a dance of its own, every note carrying a delicate promise of something unspoken between the two of you. You felt like you were floating, your movements naturally aligning with his, the space between your bodies practically nonexistent.

When the next verse arrived, you both sang in unison. The closeness was undeniable, the way your voices intermingled seamlessly.

"Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you..."

Your voice cracked on the final note, just slightly, but Jade’s sharp gaze never left yours, offering a small reassuring smile as he added his own voice to yours. His presence was overwhelming, and yet, it was comforting. His gaze seemed to understand the vulnerability of the moment. He was steady and sure, in a way that made you feel more confident as you sang alongside him.

The intensity built as you moved into the chorus, the tempo increasing ever so slightly, the rhythm tugging at you both. With every sway of your body, you could feel the warmth of Jade’s proximity, his breath close to your ear, his voice almost ghosting over your skin as he sang the next line:

"I can hear the sound of violins, long before it begins..."

You held onto every word, every note. It wasn’t just about the song anymore,it was about this moment, about the way your voices blended together perfectly, and about the growing tension between you and Jade that seemed to swirl and hum under the music.

By the time you reached the final chorus, the room was alive with the rhythm of your voices, the chemistry between you palpable in the air. But despite the crowd’s cheers, despite the applause that rang through the room as the song finished, you could hardly hear it over the thundering pulse in your chest.

The final note hung in the air for a long moment before you stepped back, your breath shallow but controlled. The room erupted into applause, but you and Jade stood there, locked in that moment, just the two of you.

Jade’s smirk deepened, and he lowered his microphone. The warmth of his voice was low, just for you to hear.

“Exquisite, my dear. Truly.” His words were smooth, but there was an edge to them, a promise that wasn’t lost on you. “You’re quite the talented performer.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His smile was subtle but there was something undeniably sharp behind it.

The crowd continued to cheer, but for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared. All that remained was Jade, and his intoxicating presence, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“We should do this more often, wouldn’t you agree?” His voice was like silk, smooth and dark with an almost teasing undertone.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to steady your breath.

“Yes…” you replied, your voice shaky but sincere. “I’d love that.”

And with that, the performance ended,but you knew, this was only the beginning.

English is not my first language !

[ryuzakistoe]

Empty Crown (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

Angst, angst with no happy ending (sadly), mentioning of Kaisers past, fem!reader, Michael Kaiser, language, sports journalist {reader}, intimate kissing, smuttt, finger fucking, breast fucking, bedroom sex, body pleasure/worship, manipulation kink, vaginal sex and the usual smut stuff, arguing

a/n: I've seen a bunch of Kaiser edits on my fyp recently so…

I think this is longer than my Sae one i believe. Also its kind of hard trying to keep Kaiser from being ooc..

_______

(no song either)

She had always been captivated by the idea of uncovering a player's true feelings—their raw, unfiltered intentions. It wasn’t just the game that intrigued her but the psychology behind it: how they felt under pressure, how they prepared for battle, how they devised strategies to secure victory. It was a puzzle she never tired of solving. 

Her career had already brought her face-to-face with some of the biggest names in sports, particularly soccer. But today, she was in Germany, seated across from a man whose reputation transcended the field—a man known as "God's Chosen Emperor." To say she found him fascinating would be a gross understatement. 

But her curiosity wasn’t limited to the shiny veneer of titles or the glory his name commanded. No, what truly intrigued her was the truth lurking behind the gilded facade. Who was he beneath the crown? What did his victories cost him? What emotions stirred beneath that composed exterior?

He smirked, his confidence radiating like an aura, as his piercing eyes studied her from across the table. His gaze flickered briefly to the pen in her hand, moving in sharp, deliberate strokes as she jotted down notes in the folder resting on her lap. The room crackled with an unspoken tension—one born of his arrogance and her relentless pursuit of the truth.

"So, Kaiser—or should I say Michael Kaiser—how does the excitement, the thrill of making those goals with that inhuman kick of yours, make you feel on the field?" she asked, her tone even but her eyes sharp. She lifted her head, her gaze locking onto him with purpose as her pen hovered just above the paper, poised to catch every word. 

Kaiser leaned back in his chair, his grin widening, as though the question was a cue for him to bask in his own legend. Of course, it felt good—no, better than good. For the self-proclaimed "king" of the pitch, every goal was another piece moved in his personal game of chess. Every calculated strike, every triumphant roar of the crowd was proof of his dominion. Confidence, skill, and a charm that bordered on arrogance made him untouchable, both on and off the field. 

He thrived on the adoration of fans, the envy of rivals, and the weight of the crown he so proudly wore. Each goal was a reminder of his superiority, a validation of his reign. So naturally, they brought him pleasure.

"Y/n L/n, wasn’t it?" he said, his voice smooth, laced with the kind of pride that made his name synonymous with greatness. His smile, sharp and practiced, creased his eyes as he leaned forward slightly. "To answer your question, those goals feel... exhilarating," he said, drawing out the word like it was a secret only he truly understood. 

Her brow arched, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Exhilarating, you say? And how, exactly, does that feel for someone like you?" she pressed, her tone deceptively casual. 

Kaiser chuckled, his grin deepening. This was a game he was all too familiar with—a battle of wits as much as words. And just like on the field, he had no intention of losing.

Kaiser leaned back into the chair with an air of effortless confidence. "Exhilarating in a way that makes me feel exemplary, of course," he said, his voice smooth, almost lazy, as if the answer was obvious. "Like I'm the only one on the field, and all the lights are directed at me." His words carried the weight of someone who thrived on being the center of the universe.

Y/n nodded, her pen gliding swiftly across the paper as she recorded his response. "Do you believe you’re the only one capable of such outstanding goals?" she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp, gauging his reaction.

Kaiser’s grin widened, his signature arrogance gleaming like a polished trophy. "Well, of course," he replied, as if the question itself was redundant.

She hummed thoughtfully, acknowledging his answer while continuing to write. Then, after a calculated pause, she glanced up. "Say... people have been wondering. Why did you start playing soccer? Was it just a childhood hobby that turned into a career, or was there something deeper behind it?"

For the briefest moment, his smirk faltered. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but not to her. She caught it instantly, her keen eye trained to spot the cracks beneath even the most carefully constructed facades. This was why she thrived in her line of work: not for the surface-level answers, but for the truths that slipped through the gaps, the ones people didn’t mean to reveal.

She lived for the unraveling. For the moments when masks slipped and raw humanity peeked through, unguarded. Truths that couldn’t be packaged for headlines or social media clout. Truths that even the interviewee might not fully recognize until they heard themselves say it.

She waited, her pen hovering, her silence a subtle push. Would Kaiser retreat behind his armor of arrogance, or would he crack under the weight of her question?

She was relentless. Every question, every glance, was calculated. She didn’t just want answers—she wanted the truth. The person beneath the accolades and bravado. To her, interviews were more than conversations; they were excavations. And if breaking someone’s polished exterior was what it took to uncover their real identity, she was willing to do it.

That fleeting crack in Kaiser’s smirk had barely formed before it repaired itself, his composure snapping back into place. "I guess it was just a childhood game I grew to enjoy," he said smoothly. "Well, it was the only thing I did enjoy back in my childhood years."

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in subtle curiosity. "The only thing you enjoyed back then? How so?" she asked, her voice light, but her intent razor-sharp.

Kaiser’s grin didn’t waver, but there was something guarded in the way he adjusted his posture. He was a master of deception, a pathological liar wrapped in layers of charm and self-assuredness. Few could see through the dense fog of lies he spun. At first glance, he appeared invincible—strong, untouchable. But beneath the sheen of arrogance lay a man who feared vulnerability more than failure. A man who had built walls so high, even he seemed unsure what lay behind them.

Crossing one leg over the other, he leaned back, his elbow propped on the armrest, his hand resting against his cheek as though the question was of little consequence. "It was just something I found fun," he replied, his tone casual, practiced. "The cool tricks I saw—and later mastered—with the soccer ball never failed to impress me. It kept me inspired, in a way."

Her pen paused mid-stroke, her gaze never leaving him. His answer was polished, the kind of response that would satisfy most interviewers. But she wasn’t most interviewers. The careful detachment in his tone, the calculated ease of his posture—it was all too perfect. Too rehearsed.  

She leaned forward slightly, her pen hovering over the page. "Inspired?" she echoed softly, her voice carrying the kind of weight that dared him to elaborate. She didn’t need to push hard; the cracks in his mask were already there. All she had to do was wait.

Y/N’s pen moved steadily across the page, her practiced precision unbroken. Yet something about his tone, his carefully curated demeanor, set off a quiet alarm in her mind. The answer he gave wasn’t wrong, exactly, but it felt... off. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it didn’t sit right.  

She prided herself on her ability to read people, to sift through the layers of their words and find the truths buried underneath. So why was the man in front of her so hard to decipher?  

Her hand froze mid-sentence as her brows knit together in thought, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied him, trying to unravel the threads of his performance. But after a brief moment, she resumed writing, forcing herself to focus, even as her instincts whispered that something was being deliberately concealed.  

Unbeknownst to her, Kaiser’s gaze remained fixed on her, his grin widening ever so slightly with each passing second. Amusement flickered in his eyes like a spark threatening to ignite. He could tell she was struggling, and he loved it. Watching someone so perceptive, someone with a reputation for cracking even the toughest facades, falter in his presence? It was thrilling.  

Kaiser thrived on this—on games, on control, on keeping everyone around him unbalanced. He’d done his homework on her, of course. Well, technically, his "buddy" had. He knew all about the headlines she’d made, exposing the untold truths of players far less guarded than he was. She was clever, skilled, and dangerously persistent.  

But Kaiser was no ordinary interview subject. He had perfected the art of manipulation, and one thing he relished above all else was the sport of toying with people. Watching them scramble, watching them doubt themselves, only to realize too late that he’d been pulling the strings all along.  

And right now? The woman in front of him was another game he intended to win.  

He relished the feeling of holding people in the palm of his hand, their pride crumbling beneath his calculated words. There was a unique satisfaction in breaking egos, in bending others to his will. Control wasn’t just a tool to him—it was an art form. And soon, he decided, Y/N would be another masterpiece in his growing collection.  

But she wasn’t so easily swayed. A faint shake of her head seemed to clear whatever troubled thoughts had momentarily clouded her focus. Her pen stilled, and her eyes locked onto his, sharp and unyielding. "So, Kaiser," she began, her tone precise, cutting through the air like a blade. "It’s impossible not to notice how you’ve surpassed and crushed your rivals. But tell me, do you ever get tired of playing the villain?"  

Her question struck like a well-placed shot, catching him off guard. For a moment, the silence between them stretched taut. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, his eyes narrowing as if she were a puzzle he hadn’t yet solved. Then, as the tension reached its peak, a grin broke across his previously expressionless face, slow and deliberate.  

"No," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "Never."  

He took pride in being the villain in other people’s stories. To him, the title was a badge of honor, a mark of his ability to dominate and destroy. Being the villain gave him permission—no, purpose—to crush people without restraint. To watch their downfall unfold, step by step, especially when he was the architect of their demise.  

His grin deepened, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous amusement. "The villain," he continued, leaning forward slightly, "always wins in the end, don’t you think?"  

༻♕༺

Kaiser tilted his head back, the cool water cascading down his throat as he chugged the bottle Ness had handed him. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, and when he was done, he let out a satisfied sigh, setting the bottle down with a soft clink.  

"That girl... she’s annoyingly perceptive," he muttered, almost to himself.  

Ness, seated beside him on the bench overlooking the empty football field, turned his head sharply at the comment. His brows furrowed. "Girl? You mean that journalist from earlier?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.  

Kaiser hummed in response, his gaze fixed on the field as if the game were still unfolding in his mind. "Yeah, her."  

For a moment, Ness hesitated, his teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek. He debated whether to ask the question lingering on his mind. Finally, he caved, his voice quieter than before. "What... what do you mean by ‘annoyingly perceptive’?"  

Kaiser didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked toward Ness, studying him briefly before turning back to the horizon. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, a flicker of amusement and unease mingling in his expression.  

"She might just figure me out," he said, his voice carrying a rare hint of vulnerability beneath the usual confidence. His smirk deepened as he added, almost as an afterthought, "My past, I mean."  

Ness blinked, caught off guard by the admission. Kaiser never talked about his past—it was a subject shrouded in mystery, just like the man himself. He opened his mouth to press further but hesitated, the weight of Kaiser’s words lingering between them like an unspoken challenge.  

Ness’s eyes widened at Kaiser’s response, panic flickering across his face. "B-but Kaiser, wouldn’t that be bad? She could expose you! What if she digs up all your personal information and reveals it to the public—"

"You don’t think I know that, Ness?" Kaiser interrupted smoothly, his smirk remaining intact. If anything, it only widened.  

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he turned to face Ness, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Don’t you get it, Ness? It’ll be fun."  

Ness blinked, his growing unease evident in the way his shoulders stiffened. "Kaiser…"  

But Kaiser wasn’t finished. His voice carried an almost playful edge, one that made Ness’s skin crawl. "It’ll be entertaining to watch someone so desperate try to figure me out. And even more fun to lead her astray—with nothing but lies."  

Ness remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. He knew better than to interrupt when Kaiser was on a roll.  

"I’ll manipulate her," Kaiser continued, his tone almost gleeful. "Toy with her, twist her perception until she doesn’t know what’s real anymore. I’ll use her like a puppet, feeding her one lie after another, watching as she clings to every word."  

He laughed, the sound low and rich, as though the thought alone was enough to entertain him. The image of Y/N caught in his web, entirely at his mercy, sent a thrill through him.  

"Wouldn’t that be exhilarating, Ness?" he asked, his voice carrying a dangerous undercurrent.  

Ness swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. The gleam in Kaiser’s eyes was unsettling, and though he knew better than to challenge him, a quiet unease settled in the pit of his stomach.

Ness swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to go down. The way Kaiser looked at him—eyes alight with excitement, yet darkened by something almost sinister—sent a chill crawling up his spine. The sheer thrill Kaiser seemed to derive from his schemes was unnerving, but Ness knew better than to voice his discomfort.  

All he could do was nod. Agreeing with Kaiser’s antics, no matter how twisted, was easier than opposing him. He’d long since learned that resistance only amused Kaiser further.  

It had been a while since Ness had seen his idol take such a keen interest in something—or, more accurately, someone. Kaiser rarely fixated on individuals; people were disposable to him, fleeting sources of entertainment at best. But now, it seemed, he’d found a new toy.  

Ness’s stomach churned at the thought. He’d seen it before: the way Kaiser broke people down, piece by piece, until they were little more than playthings to him. And yet, this time felt different. There was a dangerous spark in Kaiser’s eyes, an almost childlike glee at the prospect of unraveling someone so clever, so perceptive.  

It wouldn’t be long now. Kaiser’s newest "interest" would soon find themselves caught in his web, and Ness could already foresee the chaos that would follow.

༻♕༺

He always knew where she’d be. Her schedule, the events she’d attend—it was all too easy to track. With that knowledge in his back pocket, he’d find her in the crowd, scanning for her familiar figure among the sea of faces, certain she was either there or just a few steps away.  

It was strange, he thought. Putting in this much effort for someone—it wasn’t his usual style. But something about her, something about the way she moved through the world, made it impossible not to seek her out.  

And today, she was at a press conference. Of course, he’d be there too.

Kaiser approached her quietly, his footsteps soft as the press conference wrapped up, the chatter of departing attendees filling the air. She was engaged in conversation with someone—an individual who radiated importance. The man wore a sharp suit and tie, paired with glasses from an expensive brand, and a watch that spoke of wealth and status. He practically screamed high-profile.  

Kaiser tapped her shoulder lightly, interrupting their exchange, and she immediately turned to face him.  

Their eyes met, and what struck him was the lack of surprise in her gaze. There was no shock, no flurry of confusion—just calm recognition, as though she’d been expecting him all along.  

She wasn’t blind. She had seen him at every event she attended, at first dismissing it as coincidence. But now, after so many encounters, she could no longer deny the truth.  

Kaiser had been following her.  

Y/N knew what that meant. She knew that no one in their right mind stalked someone without a reason. And she was certain Kaiser didn’t do anything without a purpose. Whatever game he was playing, she knew she was a part of it.

Y/N’s curiosity burned brighter than ever. She was determined to uncover Kaiser’s intentions, to see what game he was playing this time.  

"Kaiser, it's great to see you," she said with a calm smile, her attention fully on him now.  

Kaiser’s smirk only deepened at her greeting. "I can say the same thing, Ms. Journalist," he teased, his voice smooth and laced with a playful challenge.  

He studied her, his eyes raking over her with deliberate intent. She was attractive, no doubt about it. But Kaiser’s mind was on something else entirely. Her appearance didn’t matter to him in this moment; his goal was simpler—to get under her skin, to make her unravel, to watch her crumble before him.  

"Would you look at you?" He took a step closer, his tone shifting to something more dangerous. "You look irresistible, Ms. Y/N."  

The words hung in the air as he leaned in, inching ever closer, his presence all-consuming. "Are you trying to seduce the men here? If so, it’s working," he murmured, his breath grazing her ear.  

Y/N’s eyebrow arched, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she took a step back, putting some distance between them. She wasn’t intimidated. She knew Kaiser all too well—his charm, his power over people. He could have anyone kneel before him in seconds, and it was the one thing he loved to brag about.  

But she was perceptive of him. She’d seen through his games before. She wasn’t about to let him win that easily.

A small laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Sorry, Kaiser. That’s not going to work on me."  

For the briefest moment, his teasing smirk faltered, replaced by a pout that almost seemed forced. "That’s a shame. I really thought you’d fall for my compliments," he said, his grin returning in full force. "How could I help myself? You look very... tasty," he added, emphasizing the last word with a playful gleam in his eyes.  

She laughed again, shaking her head at his antics. "That’s all you know how to do, huh? Flirt. You’re so used to having people fall at your feet that you don’t know how to have a real conversation, do you?"  

Kaiser’s smirk returned, wider this time, his gaze sharpening with a flicker of admiration for the way she held her ground. "Oh, you wound me, Y/N," he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if her words had struck him deeply.  

This was a new record for Kaiser. Out of all the people he’d spoken to, she was the only one who didn’t get swept up in his charm. The only one who didn’t fawn over him. And it intrigued him. Never before had he felt this kind of genuine interest in a conversation.  

What was even more surprising was that he hadn’t once grown bored. Their interactions, especially the ones where he accidentally bumped into her, were becoming more engaging with every exchange. This one, in particular, was the most stimulating yet. And that only fueled his curiosity even more.

_______

Bit by bit, Kaiser began to lower his guard around her, the cracks in his facade growing wider with every interaction. Unknowingly, he allowed Y/N to catch glimpses of the man beneath the crown—fragments of a person that few ever saw.  

And despite every instinct telling her to walk away, Y/N found herself inexplicably drawn to him. She knew who he was, what he represented. She understood the chaos that swirled around his world, the power he wielded, and the danger that came with being entangled in it. Yet, despite that, she couldn’t tear herself away.  

She had her reasons, of course. The first, and most obvious, was the truth—the truth that lay just beneath his carefully constructed mask. The truth that had eluded her for so long, no matter how many times she tried to unravel it.  

But there was something else, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. A pull, a magnetic force that seemed to draw her in. It wasn’t just his looks, nor his sharp, confident personality. She’d encountered countless famous men, men just as attractive, just as bold. And yet, none had ever affected her this way.  

Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the sensation he gave her—the way he made her feel like she was the only one in the room, like she was a part of something dangerous and exhilarating. It was a feeling that both thrilled and unnerved her. But there it was, undeniable. She was tethered to him in a way that made no sense, and that fact alone was enough to keep her coming back.

So, she was left with only one conclusion: the sensation he left her with. A strange, undeniable craving for more. It was an odd feeling, something that gnawed at her insides with an intensity she couldn’t quite understand.  

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just that. There was something else—something beneath the surface that kept her tethered to him, something that made her unable to look away. What was it about him that had this hold on her? What was it that made her so drawn to him, despite knowing all the risks?  

The answers she sought would come, sooner than she anticipated. After the press conference, everything changed.

From that night onward, they grew closer. Closer than she had ever expected. Their interactions shifted from professional to personal, the banter, the snarky retorts, becoming a comfortable rhythm between them.  

The facades they’d both so carefully built began to crack, slowly, piece by piece, until there was little left to hide behind. And as the walls came down, the truth—about him, about her—started to reveal itself in ways neither of them had anticipated.

༻♕༺

The cold seeped into her bones, a biting winter chill that seemed to freeze everything around her. But it wasn’t just the weather. No, the real cold came from something far deeper.  

Y/N stood behind him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pity and disbelief. She had never seen him like this—vulnerable, shaken, a far cry from the confident, unshakable man she was used to.  

It was a rare loss, one that had taken more from him than anyone could have anticipated. A loss that had clearly left its mark, its weight pressing down on him in ways he couldn’t hide. The toll it had taken on him was evident in every tense line of his posture, every stiff breath he took.  

This wasn’t just a defeat—it was something far more personal. And for the first time, Y/N wondered if he would ever be the same again.

The cold bit at her skin, sharp and unforgiving, the air heavy with the weight of winter. But it wasn’t just the chill of the season that made everything feel frozen. It was the coldness of something deeper, a loss that had struck like an icy gust of wind, leaving everything in its wake distant and hollow.  

This wasn’t just any loss—it was rare. And it had taken more than just the game from him. It had cost him something personal, something she could feel even without knowing the full extent of it.  

The match had ended hours ago, but Kaiser remained. Alone. Silent. His figure barely visible in the fading light of the pitch, his usual confidence stripped away.  

With every step she took toward him, the cold seemed to grow sharper, more furious, as if it was fighting her approach. But she didn’t stop. Even as it felt like she was wading through a blizzard, Y/N pressed on.  

Finally, she stood closer to him, close enough to see his face—or what little of it she could. His head hung low, his hair casting shadows that obscured his expression.  

When she finally caught a glimpse, her breath caught in her throat. It was a look she was unfamiliar with, one that didn’t belong to the Kaiser she knew. It was raw, unguarded—something close to defeat, but deeper, more complicated than just that. And for the first time, Y/N wondered if the man she had been chasing after was even the person he pretended to be.

He looked like a shell of himself. Empty.  

For the first time, Kaiser appeared as though he had lost everything—not just the match, but something far more profound. To him, this wasn’t just a game lost; this was personal. His team had lost. He had lost. And that shattered the very foundation of his pride.  

Losing wasn’t a part of his world. It wasn’t even something that registered in his vocabulary.  

So when the final whistle blew and his team was declared defeated, it wasn’t just a score—it was a rupture in everything he believed. He shattered. The loss was far more than the scoreboard. It meant he was a failure, and that idea cut deeper than any defeat ever could.  

Y/N could see the pain in his eyes, the kind of raw agony that an emperor, someone so used to control and dominance, rarely allowed anyone to witness. It was a vulnerability she wasn’t prepared for.  

That’s when it hit her—Kaiser was no longer the man who ruled the field, untouchable and arrogant. He was just a person, fragile and broken.  

Her heart clenched in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel sympathy for him, but there it was, overwhelming.  

Without thinking, she stepped closer. "Kaiser..." Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, a note of concern breaking through her usual sharpness.

The words barely registered in Kaiser’s mind, but the tone did. It was different from the usual sharpness he was accustomed to. When he spared a glance at Y/N, it wasn’t the smirk or the arrogance he often wore in her presence—it was something far more guarded. But at least she knew he acknowledged her.  

"Kaiser, talk to me." Her voice was quieter this time, more insistent.  

Y/N had never expected to care for him this way. For so long, her focus had been solely on uncovering the truth, on peeling back the layers of the man who intrigued and frustrated her. But with every moment spent near him, the answers she sought only seemed to deepen the mystery. And now, in this strange moment, she found herself questioning something else entirely: Did he care about her, too?  

But Kaiser didn’t respond. He remained as still as stone, his silence speaking volumes. His mind was a battlefield—on one side, the urge to push her away, to demand she leave him in peace. On the other, an inexplicable resistance to that very thought.  

The inner conflict tore at him. His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face twitched. The only outward sign of his internal struggle.  

He was furious—furious at the loss, at the feeling of vulnerability she seemed to evoke, at the strange mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Confusion clouded his eyes, and for once, Kaiser found himself at a loss.  

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what she wanted from him. And he certainly didn’t know what he wanted from her.

"I hate this."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the words, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Finally, after all the silence, he spoke.  

"Hate what, Kaiser?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t even sure what she was asking—she just needed him to respond, to break the suffocating silence between them.  

"I hate what I'm feeling right now." His voice was softer now, almost as if he didn’t want anyone to hear it. His head drooped even further, his posture slumped under the weight of something far heavier than just the game.  

Y/N’s eyes softened as she watched him, her heart tugging painfully. She felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy for him, but at the same time, she felt helpless. What could she do? Every time she tried to reach out, he shut her down, pushing her away with his walls.  

She had seen it all—the game, the way the light in his eyes dimmed with each passing moment, the defeat that seemed to crush him. It was a rare sight, this version of Kaiser. The one who wasn’t so certain, so untouchable.  

"It’ll get better, Kaiser. I swear," she said quietly, almost pleading with him to hear her, to believe in her words.  

But a small scoff escaped his lips, laced with annoyance and something darker—frustration, confusion. "How? How can it get better, Y/N?" he snapped, his voice sharp.

A frown tugged at Y/N's lips as she watched him. "The feelings are temporary, Kaiser. I know it feels like shit right now, but it won't last. You did great, regardless—and for that, I’m proud. Others are, too, I think—"

But before she could finish, Kaiser interrupted her, his words cutting through the air with an edge that startled her. "Did you know I hate losing?"  

Y/N blinked, her breath catching slightly at his tone. But he didn’t stop.  

"I hate losing, not because it hurts my pride," he continued, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, darker. "But because it reminds me that everything—this, my career, my reputation—can disappear in an instant."  

He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and then, more quietly, he added, "It brings back the memories of the old me. It’s like reliving the past all over again. All the way back to my old household… back to how useless I was. I was pathetic. I was nothing."  

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Y/N’s eyes widened just for a fraction, the weight of his confession settling over her. She quickly masked her surprise, but something inside her stirred.  

This was new. Kaiser had never spoken like this before. He had never let her—or anyone—see beneath the mask he wore so carefully.  

And for the first time, she felt the barrier he had placed between himself and the world—the one that had kept his true feelings locked away—begin to crack. She could see it. She could feel it.  

Her heart swelled with something she couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t sympathy. It was something deeper—something that made her want to keep listening, keep understanding.  

This was the truth she had searched for. The truth she had wanted to uncover all along. The one that had eluded her, hiding behind all the layers Kaiser had carefully constructed. And now, for the first time, she was seeing it for what it truly was.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the emotions swirling inside her.

“I despise losing in a way too, Kaiser,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kaiser’s gaze shifted to hers, catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him, but she wasn’t expecting this—this quiet attentiveness. This was the first time she had seen him focus on her with such intent.

“I hate that losing against people who are far more superior than me takes such a huge toll on me,” she continued, her words flowing slowly, as if each one carried more weight than the last. “It’s like I’ll never measure up in a world dominated by people who are better.”

His entire attention was on her now. She could feel it. And for some strange reason, it eased the tension that had been building in her chest. It felt… calming to know that, for once, someone else understood. Even if it was just in this small moment.

"I’ve always feared the people who were better—who were born with gifts I could never surpass," she said, her voice softening with each word. “But I always fucking hated that about myself,” she whispered, the words carrying an undertone of self-loathing she hadn’t shared with anyone before.

Y/n gritted her teeth slightly, her eyes narrowing in a mix of regret and frustration. The vulnerability was almost suffocating, but it was real. It was raw. And in this moment, she wasn’t afraid to show it.

Kaiser noticed the shift in her expression—the self-hate she had felt earlier now seemed to dissipate, replaced by something more complex, something that caught him off guard. It was the same surprise that stirred within him.

"It bothered me so much, the fact that I always managed to push myself down at any given moment when I saw someone even just the slightest bit better than me," she continued, her voice steady, though it carried a weight. "It made me feel even more worthless than I really was. All I did was force myself into believing I was lower than everyone else when, in reality, I was so much more than that."

She finally lifted her gaze to meet his. It wasn’t the confusion he was used to seeing. No, this time she held his stare with something softer—something almost vulnerable. He found himself looking at her with a kind of admiration, something unfamiliar to him, mixed with a flicker of surprise.

"Y/n," he mumbled, his voice no longer tinged with irritation, but instead with a curiosity that mirrored his feelings. "I don’t want to see the same thing in you, Kaiser," she added, her words a quiet confession that hit him harder than he expected. "It bothers me so much when I see someone making themselves feel like shit."

Her admission stilled him, and his chest tightened at the rawness of her words. "I didn’t want to see what I went through in your eyes."

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, he felt a shift—a shift in the way his heart pounded. Did she care for him? The thought was almost foreign, but the possibility of it lodged itself deep within him. Someone who cared. For him.

The realization made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain. It was an emotion he hadn’t quite known how to process, but it was there, undeniable and consuming.

Kaiser’s heart raced as he asked the question, though he already knew the answer—or so he thought. "Y/n, do you... care?"

It was blunt, direct. He needed an answer, even if it hurt him further. The silence that followed stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts.

Y/n froze, her eyes searching for an answer within herself, and that’s when it hit her—she cared. All the confusion, the uncertainty, the strange pull toward him… it all made sense now. Those feelings she had tried to unravel earlier, they were tied to this simple, yet profound word.

Care.

The realization crashed over her. That was it. That was why her heart felt heavy. Why she couldn’t tear herself away from him. Yes, it was hard to believe, hard to admit, but in that moment, it was undeniable.

She cared. 

For Michael Kaiser. 

The word fit perfectly. It was the missing piece that made everything click. It felt right. Perfect, even.

She didn’t hesitate this time, her voice softer than before. "I do, Kaiser, I really do."

It was enough. That simple truth was all Kaiser needed to hear. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone—anyone—cared for him. The weight of her words settled into his chest, filling a space he didn’t know had been empty for so long.

And in that moment, it felt like a dream come true. Like he could finally exhale, like he was at peace. At rest.

Someone cared for him. The thought alone made his heart ache in a way he wasn’t used to, the tenderness stirring deep within. His eyes softened, losing the usual sharpness that defined him. 

There was no smirk now. Instead, a smile—a real, unguarded smile—replaced it. It was subtle, but it was there. 

He took a step toward her, then another, until the space between them dwindled to nearly nothing. She could feel his presence, so close now that her heart began to race with uncertainty and anticipation. It was like the world had quieted around them, and everything he was—everything he had hidden—was on the brink of being laid bare. 

Just for today, he told himself. Just for today, his guard would be lowered. Just for today, he would let the mask fall.

His chest tightened with something more than nervousness—something that felt raw and unspoken. A pull, a need, an undeniable feeling that screamed at him to take action.

And surprisingly, he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t force his body to stop. For once, he didn’t fight against it. 

Now, in this moment, he realized the truth—he cared for her too. And he wanted her to care for him forever. 

He took that final step. The one that closed the distance between them, the step that meant everything. The step that brought them together, on the edge of something neither of them had expected, but both knew would change everything.

He reached up, his hand gently cupping her chin, guiding her face toward his. His eyes locked onto hers, searching for something, anything—confirmation of what they both already knew. 

Her eyes, wide and vulnerable, spoke the truth without words. They were everything she had just confessed. And then, his gaze dropped lower. Her lips—soft, full, and so inviting—pulled him in, a magnetic force he couldn’t resist even if he wanted to. They were perfect. Delicious. Everything he never thought he'd want, yet now couldn't imagine living without.

He studied her entire face, her entire being, drinking in every detail. And in that moment, he realized he was lost. Completely. And it was all Y/n’s fault.

He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He was caught in a trance, a deep desire bubbling up, leaving him no choice but to close the distance between them. His lips crashed against hers, a sudden, urgent kiss that left no room for words.

The shock was mutual, taking them both by surprise. Kaiser, usually so in control, found himself caught in the rush of emotions he had never expected. And Y/n—she couldn’t process it at first. But that hesitation lasted mere seconds.

Without missing a beat, she responded, mirroring the intensity he had brought to her. Their lips moved together, desperate and passionate, as if they had been waiting for this moment all along.

Kaiser's lips claimed Y/n's with a fervor that was both tender and dominating, their mouths aligning in a rhythm as natural and inevitable as the tides. Each passing second saw their kiss deepen, growing more intimate, more passionate, more consuming. It was as if their lips had been sculpted by the gods themselves, destined to fit only against each other.

Kaiser's strong hand gripped Y/n's chin, holding her fast as he plundered her mouth with increasing aggression. She gasped, a shocked murmur escaping her, and he seized the opportunity to delve inside, his tongue invading and conquering. It twined around hers, dominating, possessing, staking his claim.

A breathy, needful groan spilled from Y/n's lips, a sound of surrender and submission. Kaiser felt a surge of male pride, a dark satisfaction at reducing this proud woman to such a state with naught but a kiss. She was his, utterly his, and he reveled in his power over her.

His grip tightened, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her jaw as he angled her head to deepen the kiss yet further. He would have her, all of her. He would lay siege to her every defense until she yielded completely. And he would enjoy every moment of conquering her, body and soul

Kaiser's earlier anger had dissipated like the morning mist under the scorching sun, leaving no trace behind. All that remained was a burning desire, a hunger to unravel the woman in his arms, to make her unravel for him. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, trapping her soft, pliant body against the hard planes of his own. She was a delicate doll, a plaything for him to manipulate and enjoy as he saw fit. His doll, his prize, his possession. And he would guard his treasure jealously.

He broke the kiss, only to catch his breath for the briefest of moments before his mouth was back on hers, claiming, conquering, consuming. She was a woman possessed, lost in the haze of sensation, unable to break away from the addictive pull of his lips. Her hum of acquiescence, trapped between their joined mouths, only spurred him on further.

"Your enjoying this aren't you?" Kaiser murmured, his voice a low, teasing rumble. He didn't wait for a response, his lips latching onto hers once more as if to swallow any protest. She was addicted, he could feel it, could taste it on the sweetness of her breath. And like any addict, she would crave more, would need more. He would make certain of it.

Kaiser's palm skimmed over the curve of Y/n's hip, squeezing and caressing, igniting sparks beneath her skin. Each pass of his hand stoked the flames of his desire, the kiss growing ever more fervent, ever more consuming. He reveled in her surrender, in the way she melted so sweetly against him, a puppet dancing on his strings.

But it was more than her submission that ignited the beast within him. It was the raw, primal satisfaction of seeing his actions, his touch, his very presence eliciting such a response. She was a canvas, and he was the artist, painting her reactions with every brushstroke of his desire.

Her need to continue the kiss, to lose herself in his embrace, only fueled his own burning hunger. He could feel it, the pull, the ache, the desperation. She craved him, yearned for him, and he would feed that hunger, that yearning, that desperation. He would be her addiction, her poison, her reason for breath.

Kaiser broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her lips hovering, searching, aching for his touch. Her eyes, hazy with desire, sought his own, a plea swirling in their depths. She tried to close the scant distance between them, to recapture his lips, but he pulled back, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Confusion clouded her gaze, warring with the need, the want, the undeniable desire. He had her on the cusp, teetering on the edge of something terrifying and thrilling. She was his puppet, and he held the strings, ready to dance her to his tune

Y/n stared at Kaiser, his name falling from her lips in a breathless question. As her gaze met his, she felt the weight of his desire, hot and heavy, pressing down upon her like a physical touch. She felt laid bare, stripped of all defenses, as exposed as if she stood naked before him. His eyes blazed with a madness, a hunger that made her heart stutter in her chest.

"Kaiser," she breathed, a flicker of uncertainty in her tone. But before she could voice any protest, he was already moving, his large hand engulfing her own, pulling her towards his waiting vehicle.

She stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his urgency, his insistence. But he didn't give her time to compose herself, to steel her nerves. No, he was already ushering her into the passenger seat, the cool leather of the car interior a shock against her flushed skin.

The door slammed shut with a resounding finality, sealing them both inside the confines of the luxurious vehicle. Kaiser slid into the driver's seat, his presence commanding, dominating the space. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the coiled energy, the barely restrained desire.

He didn't say a word, didn't bother with pleasantries or explanations. He simply engaged the ignition, the engine roaring to life with a throaty purr. And then they were moving, the car surging forward with a burst of speed that pressed Y/n back against her seat.

She had no idea where he was taking her, no concept of their destination. But it mattered not. All that consumed her thoughts, all that mattered, was the promise of what was to come. The completion of what they had begun.

The car pulled to a halt, and before she could blink, Kaiser was there, opening her door, his hand outstretched to assist her exit. She stepped out into the cool night air, her heels clicking against the pavement as she gazed up at the imposing structure before them.

It was a house, a grand and opulent affair that spoke of wealth and privilege. Of course, it made sense. Kaiser was a man of means, a famous athlete who had amassed a fortune through his talents and dedication. And now, he was inviting her into his inner sanctum, his private domain.

He led her towards the imposing front door, his hand a brand at the small of her back

Y/n found herself powerless to resist as Kaiser's iron grip tightened around her waist, propelling her forward into the cavernous entrance of his estate. The door slammed shut behind them with a resounding bang, sealing them off from the world outside, leaving them alone in the charged atmosphere that crackled between them.

Before she could catch her breath, Kaiser had her pinned against the door, his hard, muscular body caging her in, his lips claiming hers in a searing, urgent kiss. A startled gasp escaped her, only to be swallowed by Kaiser's hungry mouth as it moved demandingly against her own.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him, anchoring herself against the onslaught of sensation. Her lips, as if possessed of a will of their own, softened and yielded to his, falling into a rhythm that matched his own. She met him kiss for kiss, desire for desire, her body melting bonelessly against the hard planes of his own.

Kaiser's calloused hands, rough and textured from years of gripping balls and battling opponents, skimmed over the soft, sensitive skin of her waist. They fit her curves as if she had been sculpted to his touch, his hands a perfect mold for her body. His fingers tightened, squeezing the soft flesh, marking her as his own.

"Kaiser..." His name left her lips in a breathless whisper, a sound of surrender and need. The way it echoed in the grand foyer, a testament to her submission, sent a shiver down Kaiser's spine. This woman, this exquisite creature, was undone by his touch, his kiss, his very presence. And he reveled in the power of it, the heady rush of knowing he could bring such a strong woman to her knees with a mere touch.

He plunged his tongue past the seam of her lips, delving deep, conquering, claiming, possessing. She tasted of honey and sin, and he couldn't get enough. He wanted to drown in her, to lose himself in the sweet oblivion of her mouth, of her body.

The need that surged through him at the sound of her breathless whisper, the way it made his skin prickle and his blood burn, was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. She was doing this to him, unraveling him, just as he was unraveling her.

Kaiser felt the weight of her whispered plea, the way it settled heavily in his chest, igniting a primal urge within him. The sound of his name on her lips, the desperation in her tone, stirred something dark and possessive deep inside him. In that moment, his sole desire was to see her bow down before him, to make her submit completely to his will. He wanted her to remember only one name, only one identity: Michael Kaiser. He wanted to be her god, her master, her everything.

A smirk tugged at his lips, felt rather than seen, as a low, sensual chuckle slipped between their joined mouths. "Let's take it further," he murmured, his voice a rumble of promise and dark intent. "Yeah?" It was a command more than a question, a decree that brooked no argument.

His hands slid from her waist to the backs of her thighs, squeezing the firm, toned flesh. In a fluid, effortless motion, he lifted her, silently demanding her cooperation, her obedience. And to his satisfaction, she complied without hesitation, without a moment's doubt.

Her legs wrapped around his waist. Kaiser groaned into the kiss, the feeling of her body pressed so intimately against his own stoking the flames of his desire to new heights. He could feel her heartbeat pulsing against his chest, could feel the heat of her core pressing insistently against his abdomen.

Blindly, his eyes still locked with hers, Kaiser carried her through the darkened halls of his estate. He didn't need to see where he was going, trusting his memory, his instincts, to guide them to their destination. The bedroom loomed before them, a spacious and opulent affair, the grand four-poster bed dominating the center of the room.

He carried her to the edge of the bed, his lips never breaking the heated kiss, his tongue still plundering the sweet recesses of her mouth. Only when the backs of her knees hit the mattress did he reluctantly withdraw, his breath harsh and ragged as he gazed down at her with a look of pure, unadulterated hunger.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a low, possessive rumble.

Kaiser loomed over Y/n, his powerful frame pinning her delicate one to the luxurious bed. His hands roamed her curves with a boldness born of desire and possession, mapping out the terrain of her body as if he were a conqueror claiming new land. She was utterly at his mercy, trapped beneath him, a willing captive to his touch.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from her lips, a symphony of pleasure that sang to his ego, stroking his pride. Each touch, each caress, sent her spiraling further into a world of sensation, craving more, needing more. He could feel it, the way her body responded to his, the way it yearned for his touch like a flower turning towards the sun. She was his, utterly and completely, and he reveled in the knowledge.

A growl of pure male satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he hooked his fingers under the hem of her shirt. Slowly, deliberately, he began to lift it, revealing inch after tantalizing inch of the smooth, silky skin beneath. She didn't protest, didn't try to stop him. No, she wanted this as much as he did, her body singing with the same desperate need that consumed him.

He didn't bother asking permission, knowing it was unnecessary. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she arched into his touch. She was his, and he would take what was his.

With a swift, decisive motion, he whipped her shirt over her head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of her, his gaze raking over her half-naked form with a hunger that bordered on reverent.

There she lay, a vision of feminine perfection, her ample breasts encased in the delicate lace of her bra. A bra that, like everything else about her, seemed to have been made just for him. He could not look away, could not tear his gaze from the exquisite beauty before him.

She was a woman he had grown accustomed to, a woman who understood him like no other. A woman who had become his everything, his reason, his obsession. She was his dog, his plaything, his treasure. And he would enjoy every single moment of possessing her, of owning her, of claiming her as his own

Kaiser's hands found their destined home as he deftly unfastened the hook of Y/n's bra, the last flimsy barrier between them falling away. With a sense of purpose, he peeled the delicate lace away, revealing the glorious expanse of her breasts to his hungry gaze.

He stood there, admiring her, drinking in the breathtaking sight of her upper body laid bare before him. Her breasts were perfect, full and ripe, begging to be touched, to be worshipped. And touch them he did, his large hands finding their way to cup the soft, pliant flesh, his fingers sinking into the giving softness.

"Y/n..." he murmured, his voice rough with desire and awe, "you're fucking beautiful." His eyes raked over her body, taking in every dip and curve, committing every inch to memory. She was a work of art, a goddess, a vision of pure feminine perfection.

Unable to resist, he brushed his thumb over the peak of her nipple, watching as it puckered and tightened at his touch. A breathy, needful grunt spilled from Y/n's lips, a sound that went straight to his groin, stoking the flames of his desire.

Kaiser grinned, a fierce, possessive grin of pure male satisfaction. He had power over her, absolute control, and he reveled in it. He could make her feel, make her react, make her crave. And he loved every single second of it.

His lips crashed against hers once more, his kiss aggressive, demanding, conquering. His tongue delved into her mouth, sliding against hers, stroking, tasting, claiming. He drank down her moans, her whimpers, her cries of pleasure, each one fueling the inferno that raged within him.

As he plundered her mouth, his thumb continued its assault on her sensitive nipple, rolling and pinching, tugging and teasing. Her body bowed off the bed, arching into his touch, silently begging for more. And more he would give her, more he would take from her. He would have her begging, pleading, screaming his name until it was the only word she knew, the only prayer on her lips.

Kaiser's hand blazed a trail of fire down Y/n's torso, his calloused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. The heat of his touch contrasted deliciously with the cool air of the room, sending shivers of pleasure racing down her spine. She arched into his caress, a breathy moan escaping her lips at the exquisite sensation.

His hand found the waistband of her pants, and with a decisive tug, he gripped the fabric, his intent clear. But before he could act on it, his mouth tore away from hers, leaving her lips feeling suddenly bereft and cold. A needful whimper escaped her at the loss, her body aching for his touch, his warmth.

But that whimper quickly turned into a loud, wanton moan as Kaiser's lips found the sensitive skin of her neck. He nipped and sucked at the delicate flesh, leaving a trail of marks, of bruises, of brands. He was claiming her, marking her, making her his in the most primal way possible.

His mouth trailed lower, over the swell of her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts. And then, without warning or hesitation, he took her nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before he began to suck.

A sharp cry tore from Y/n's throat, her back bowing off the bed as pleasure exploded through her. Instinctively, she clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the shameless sounds of her desire. But that action only served to anger Kaiser, to spark a fierce surge of irritation within him.

His mouth released her nipple with a lewd pop, the sound echoing obscenely in the charged air of the room. His eyes flashed with a dangerous light as he glared down at her, his tone shifting from seductive to harsh in an instant.

"Who told you to cover your fucking mouth, huh?" he growled, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "You think you're being loud? I'll make you even fucking louder." His smirk returned, wider and more wicked than before, a promise of pleasure bordering on pain. He meant every word, and she would feel the weight of his intent in every kiss, every touch, every breathless cry that tore from her throat.

Kaiser's hand shifted, his fingers finding the button of Y/n's pants with unerring accuracy. With a deft flick of his wrist, he unbuttoned the fabric, the sound of the release echoing in the charged air. Without hesitation, without giving her a moment to catch her breath, he tore the pants down her legs, tossing them carelessly to the floor.

And there she lay, a debauched vision in the dim light of the room, clad in only her soaked panties. The damp stain was unmistakable, a testament to her arousal, her desire, her desperate need. Kaiser felt a fierce surge of pride, of possessiveness, knowing that he was the sole reason for her current state. He had done this to her, had brought her to this point of desperation, and he would revel in every moment of it.

His eyes raked over her body, taking in every inch of exposed skin, lingering on the damp patch that darkened her panties. They were wild, crazed with a lust that bordered on madness. In the dimness of the room, Y/n could see the aura of desire swirling in their depths, could feel the weight of his gaze boring into her very soul.

"Already wet, huh?" he growled, his voice a low, rough rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "And you weren't even fully naked." His finger hooked into the band of her panties, the flimsy fabric stretching taut against her skin.

Slowly, torturously, he began to pull them down, the action agonizing in its deliberate slowness. He was teasing her, keeping her waiting, denying her the pleasure she so desperately craved. His eyes never left hers, watching as her body squirmed beneath his touch, watching as she fought the urge to beg, to plead, to demand.

The sheets crumpled beneath Y/n's gripping fingers, the fabric twisting and bunching as she clung to them in desperation. Her hips lifted off the bed, seeking more of his touch, craving the relief only he could give her.

"Kaiser..." she whined, her voice high and breathless, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. "Don't tease me like that. Just...fuck, hurry up." It was a plea, a desperate, wanton plea for him to take her.

Kaiser's lips curled into a wicked smirk at Y/n's desperate plea, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. He chuckled, a low, dark sound that rumbled through his chest, as he continued his tortuous descent, his fingers toying with the delicate fabric of her panties.

"Teasing?" he murmured, his breath hot against her skin, "I'm just getting you ready for what's to come." With a final, sharp tug, he peeled the soaked fabric down her thighs, the cool air kissing her overheated skin as he exposed her fully to his hungry gaze.

Y/n shivered, her body instinctively trying to close, to hide, to protect her most intimate place. But Kaiser was having none of it. His hand clamped around her knee, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he forced her legs apart, baring her glistening sex to his appreciative eyes.

"Don't you dare," he growled, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "You're not allowed to hide from me, Y/n. Not now, not ever." His gaze raked over her dripping folds, taking in the sight of her arousal, the proof of her desire. He could barely contain himself, barely restrain the primal urge to bury himself inside her heat and claim her, ruin her, make her his.

Unable to resist any longer, he traced a teasing finger over her clit, circling the sensitive nub, feeling it throb and pulse beneath his touch. Y/n squirmed beneath him, her hips lifting, seeking more, craving more. She was at his mercy, completely under his control, a puppet dancing on the strings of his desire.

A throaty grunt escaped Kaiser's lips as he felt her wetness coat his finger, her body welcoming him, inviting him inside. Without warning, he plunged his finger deep into her tight, clutching heat, a loud, wanton moan tearing from Y/n's throat as she arched beneath him.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not taking her right then and there. "You're so fucking tight. So fucking perfect." He pumped his finger in and out of her, feeling her walls flutter and clench around the invading digit, her body instinctively trying to draw him deeper, to keep him inside her.

Kaiser's fingers continued their relentless assault on Y/n's dripping core, plunging in and out of her tight, clasping heat. The obscene sound of his digits pumping through her slick arousal filled the room, a lewd symphony of their coupling. He could feel her velvety walls gripping him, fluttering, clenching, as if trying to keep him inside her.

"So fucking tight," he breathed out, his voice rough with desire and appreciation. Unable to resist the urge to feel more of her, he forced a second finger into her tight channel, stretching her, filling her, claiming her. His long, skilled fingers reached that sweet spot deep inside her, the one that made her see stars, that made her cry out in ecstasy.

Y/n's moans filled the air, a beautiful, erotic melody that sang to Kaiser's soul. Each pleasured sound she made, each whimper and mewl, only spurred him on, making him want to wring more from her, to make her scream his name until it was the only word she knew.

"Fuck-Kaiser you're still clothed —" Y/n managed to gasp out between the waves of pleasure crashing over her. Her voice was high, breathless, a sound of frustration and longing.

Kaiser paused, his fingers still buried deep inside her, as his gaze flicked over his own body. She was right, of course. While she lay bare and exposed beneath him, he was still clothed, still covered in the layers of fabric that separated his skin from hers.

A small, mocking laugh left his lips as he met her gaze, his eyes glinting with amusement and dark promise. "You want to see me naked too, hmm?" he murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Consider it a reward for being so good."

Kaiser's hands gripped the hem of his undershirt and jersey, the fabric stretching taut against his broad shoulders. With a swift, decisive movement, he peeled them both off in one go, tossing them carelessly to the floor. His chest was a work of art, each muscle sculpted and defined, the hard planes and ridges a testament to years of discipline and training. In the dim light of the room, Y/n could see every contour, every line, the way his skin seemed to glow as if illuminated by an otherworldly source.

Next, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and socks, shimmying them down his powerful legs with an ease that spoke of long practice. His cleats were already discarded, left forgotten by the door, and now the rest of his lower half was bared to Y/n's hungry gaze.

Y/n's eyes raked over his body, taking in every inch of exposed skin, every toned muscle that rippled beneath the surface. He looked ethereal, a god made flesh, a king sitting upon his throne. She could hardly believe that such a perfect specimen of manhood existed outside of myth and legend.

Her gaze traveled down, over the defined lines of his abdomen, the V-lines that disappeared teasingly into the waistband of his boxers. The only fabric left, the last barrier between her and his complete nudity. She could see the bulge of his arousal straining against the confines of his underwear, could feel the heat of his desire radiating off him in waves.

Y/n’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging at the sight of him, at the promise of what was to come. She ached to touch him, to run her hands over his skin, to feel the power coiled in his muscles. She wanted to worship him, to make him feel as good as he made her feel.

But more than that, she needed him. Needed to feel his skin against hers, needed to be filled, claimed, owned by him completely. She was already naked, already bared to him in every way possible. It wasn't fair that he still had one last scrap of clothing separating them.

Kaiser chuckled, a low, rich sound that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against Y/n's skin. He reveled in the effect he had on her, the way her eyes widened and darkened with desire as they roamed over his naked form. It was a heady feeling, knowing that he could reduce her to this state, could make her crave him with such desperate intensity.

"C'mon, don't tell me you're nervous now?" he teased, his body crawling over hers, his hands coming to rest on her thighs. He held himself up, his muscular arms flexing with the effort, as he gazed down at her with a wicked, mocking grin.

His palms began to rub up and down her thighs, the rough skin of his hands a delicious contrast to the smoothness of her own. Y/n bit back a whimper as he intentional brushed over her sensitive clit, the fleeting touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine.

"Nervous? You're funny," she scoffed, trying to maintain some semblance of control even as her body betrayed her true feelings. Kaiser raised an eyebrow at her bravado, a smirk playing about his lips.

"In a situation like this, it's not very smart to talk back," he murmured, his voice a low, warning rumble. But Y/n could see the glint of amusement in his eyes, could tell that he enjoyed the back-and-forth, the challenge.

She glared up at him, her chin set at a defiant angle even as her heart raced in her chest. As much as she tried to deny it, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at being at the mercy of this powerful, dominant man. The power dynamic between them thrilled her in a way she had never experienced before.

"Let's continue, yeah?" Kaiser murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing promise of a kiss. Y/n's breath hitched in her throat, her body arching up towards him, seeking more of his touch, more of his heat.

She knew she should be nervous, should be intimidated by the raw power and hunger she saw in his eyes. But instead, she felt a corresponding surge of desire, a need to meet his passion with her own. She wanted to see how far they could push each other, wanted to explore the depths of pleasure and ecstasy.

Y/n let out a small grunt, her body trembling with anticipation and need as Kaiser's hands continued their sensual exploration of her curves. The kiss deepened, adding fuel to the fire that raged within her, stoking the flames of her desire until she felt they might consume her entirely.

She could feel the knot forming in her lower belly, the ache of emptiness that could only be filled by one thing. By him. By Kaiser. She needed him inside her, needed to feel his hard length stretching her, claiming her, completing her.

"Kaiser..." she breathed out, the name falling from her lips like a prayer, a plea. She was drowning in sensation, in the heat and hardness of his body pressing against her own, and she needed an anchor, needed something to tether her to reality.

Kaiser broke the kiss, his eyes dark and hungry as he leaned back. His hands fiddled with the waistband of his boxers, and Y/n eagerly sat up, wanting to see, needing to witness the final reveal. She had to know, had to see all of him, had to drink in the sight of Kaiser in all his naked glory.

"Eager are we?" he lowly chuckled, a smirk playing about his lips as he slowly, teasingly, began to tug down his underwear. Inch by torturous inch, he revealed the base of his cock, and Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs.

She gulped as more of his impressive length was revealed, the thick veins and ridges clearly visible, the hard flesh throbbing with his arousal. He was so big, so much bigger than she had imagined, and the sight of him made her mouth water and her core clench with need.

Kaiser kicked his boxers away, tossing them carelessly to the floor. And then he was climbing over her, his naked body covering her own, his hard length pressing against her lower belly. She could feel the heat of him, the weight and power of him, and it made her feel small and feminine and desperately, achingly empty.

"You want this just as bad as I do, right?" Kaiser asked, his voice a low, rough murmur. His hand rested on the dip of her hip, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh possessively.

"Yes... I want it just as bad," Y/n confirmed, her voice breathless and high with need.

Y/n let out a guttural moan as Kaiser's thick, hard length speared into her, filling her in one powerful thrust. Her back arched off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders as she was stretched and filled and claimed completely. The suddenness of it stole her breath, left her gasping and panting, her lungs burning for air.

"Oh god, Kaiser!" she cried out, her voice a mix of surprise, pleasure and need. She could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing inch of him pulsing inside her, stretching her walls to their limit. It was almost too much, almost painfully intense, but she never wanted it to end.

Kaiser groaned, a deep, low sound that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against Y/n's skin. He threw his head back, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss on his face as he savored the feel of Y/n's tight, wet heat enveloping his aching cock. Her walls gripped him like a vice, fluttering and clenching around his shaft, as if trying to draw him even deeper.

He gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. It grounded him, anchored him, kept him from losing himself completely in the overwhelming pleasure of finally being inside her.

"Ready, Y/n?" Kaiser asked, his voice a low, rough rasp. He tilted his head down to meet her gaze, a wicked smirk playing about his lips as he took in the sight of her flushed cheeks, the sweat drops dotting her forehead, the red hue spreading across her skin.

Y/n could only nod, too lost in sensation to form words. But Kaiser wanted more, wanted to hear her say it, to give voice to her desire.

"I told you I needed words, didn't I?" he huffed, his tone a mix of teasing and demand. His lips moved to the side of Y/n's neck, his warm breath ghosting over her skin, making her shiver and tremble beneath him.

"Yes Kaiser," Y/n breathed out, her voice a needful whimper. "Yes, I'm ready. Please, please..." She didn't even know what she was begging for, only that she needed more. More of him, more of this, more of everything.

Kaiser grinned down at Y/n, his eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and dark promise. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing rasp. "I'll have you bowing down to me soon enough, like the needy little peasant you are, Y/n."

He rocked his hips back, his hard length sliding out of her dripping sex until only the tip remained nestled inside. Y/n whimpered at the sudden emptiness, her walls clenching around the head of his cock, trying to keep him inside. But Kaiser was having none of that. With a sharp grin, he slammed back into her, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

Y/n cried out loud moans, the sound tearing from her throat as pleasure bordered on pain. Tears sprang to her eyes, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming her. Kaiser groaned, a low, guttural sound that spoke of his own pleasure and need. Her walls were so tight, gripping him like a velvet vise, the wet heat of her sex coating his shaft, making the glide easier even as it clenched and fluttered around him.

He set a brutal pace, pounding into her with deep, powerful strokes. The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, with Y/n's needful cries and Kaiser's harsh grunts and groans. He was taking her hard, claiming her, marking her, staking his ownership of her body and soul.

"Fuck, Y/n," Kaiser growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. "You feel fucking incredible. So fucking tight and wet and perfect."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his voice a low, dark murmur. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. No one else will ever make you feel this good, will ever fuck you like I can. You're mine now, Y/n. My perfect little toy to use as I please."

Kaiser punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, grinding his hips against hers, his pelvis pressing against her sensitive clit. Y/n keened, a high, breathless sound of pure pleasure, her body arching up to meet his.

Kaiser growled in feral satisfaction as Y/n wrapped her legs around him, giving him an even deeper, clearer angle to plunge into her. His hips snapped forward with renewed vigor, each powerful thrust striking that perfect spot deep inside her that made stars explode behind her eyelids.

"Fuck, Y/n!" Kaiser groaned, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "Scream for me, let me hear how good it feels. Fucking scream my name!"

His movements grew more intense, more demanding, the force of his thrusts shaking the bed beneath them. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their escalating moans and cries. Kaiser was relentless, pounding into Y/n with a single-minded focus on her pleasure and his own.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," Kaiser grunted, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips, no doubt leaving vivid bruises in their wake. "Your cunt is gripping my cock like it never wants to let me go. Fuck, I can feel you throbbing around me, begging for more."

He leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear, his teeth sinking into the tender skin. "That's it, take it all like a good little slut. Take every fucking inch of my cock. This is what you were made for, Y/n. To be a warm, wet hole for me to use as I please."

Kaiser punctuated his filthy words with a sharp, brutal thrust, grinding his pelvis against Y/n's clit, the rough friction sending bolts of electricity zinging up her spine. Y/n could only scream, could only let the pleasure consume her as Kaiser fucked her with wild abandon, chasing their mutual release with single-minded intensity.

Y/n's nails raked down Kaiser's back, leaving red lines of pleasure-pain in their wake. She couldn't help but claw at him, needed an anchor, something to ground her as the intense sensations threatened to sweep her away. It felt too good, too overwhelming, too much like drowning in a sea of ecstasy.

Tears streamed down her face, pouring from her eyes as her body trembled and quaked beneath Kaiser's relentless assault. She could feel the coil of tension in her belly winding tighter and tighter, the knot of pleasure growing bigger, more insistent with each passing second.

"Kaiser... I'm close," Y/n managed to whimper out between ragged breaths and broken moans. Her voice was high, thready, a needful keen that spoke of her impending release.

Kaiser could only nod, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes dark and wild as he gazed down at Y/n. He was close too, teetering on the edge of his own climax, the pleasure gripping him like a vice. But he pushed through it, determined to bring Y/n to the heights of bliss before seeking his own.

"Almost there," Kaiser grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy, his rhythm faltering as he chased their shared release. He was enjoying this, reveling in the way Y/n's body squeezed and fluttered around him, the way her cries of pleasure filled the air.

A few more deep, powerful thrusts, and then Y/n was coming undone. Her head tipped back, her eyes rolling up in sheer bliss, her body convulsing beneath Kaiser as her orgasm crashed over her. Her fluids gushed out around his pistoning cock, coating him, dripping down onto the sheets.

Kaiser couldn't hold back any longer. With a hoarse cry of Y/n's name, he pulled out just as his own climax hit him like a freight train. His seed erupted from his cock, painting Y/n's lower abdomen with thick, hot ropes of his release. He shuddered and groaned, his body jerking with the force of his intense orgasm.

Heavy breaths lingered in the still air, the only sound that filled the space between them. Both of them were still catching their breath, their bodies spent from the intensity of what had just transpired. The silence was almost deafening, yet neither of them seemed to want to break it.

Kaiser finally collapsed onto the side of the bed, his body sinking into the soft sheets with a low exhale. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice strained, and his eyes staring up at the ceiling as he tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

Y/n remained still, her own chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, her thoughts swirling as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind that had just unfolded. It had happened so quickly, so intensely, that she felt as though she couldn’t fully grasp the reality of it. She hadn’t expected to feel this... overwhelmed.

Her gaze drifted to him. Kaiser’s bare chest heaved up and down, glistening slightly in the dim light of the room, his usual arrogance softened for the moment. There was something about the vulnerability in his expression now, the way his sharp features seemed more relaxed, that struck her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She hadn’t expected to see this side of him, especially not after everything they had shared.

Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes locking with his. His blue gaze met hers, intense and burning with a quiet intensity that made her heart flutter unexpectedly. There was a flicker of something deeper in those eyes—something she hadn’t seen before. He smirked then, though it wasn’t his usual cocky grin. It was different, softer. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Y/n,” he teased, his voice low and husky.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t look away from him. The way the light caught his face, the way his features softened in the aftermath of their connection—it made her breath catch in her throat. Kaiser, with all his arrogance and power, looked... beautiful in that moment. Vulnerable, almost raw. She hadn’t expected to see him this way, and yet it pulled something in her that she couldn’t deny.

There was something about the way he lay there, his body still warm and flushed, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. The silence between them was heavy, charged, and it made her feel like she was caught between two worlds—one where she was just the journalist trying to uncover the truth, and the other where the truth had just shifted in ways she didn’t fully understand.

Kaiser, too, felt it. His heart thudded in his chest, though it wasn’t out of anger or frustration this time. No, this felt... different. Her presence, her eyes on him, it was like nothing he’d ever experienced. A quiet ache settled in his chest, but it wasn’t a painful one. It was almost as if his heart was beating in rhythm with hers, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt something so... real.

Kaiser couldn’t afford to lose focus now. His goal was clear, his mind set. He was going to make Y/n break before him, piece by piece. Like shards of glass, he would walk over her, feeling the satisfying crunch of her resolve shattering under his weight. She had become a challenge, a puzzle he had every intention of solving in his own twisted way.

He needed to see her bow to him, to crumble under the weight of his control. She had become nothing more than a pawn in his game—an object he could manipulate at will, a doll to be twisted and molded. But all dolls, no matter how beautiful, eventually lost their shine. They aged, wore down, and lost the spark that made them desirable. And like any owner of such a toy, he would discard her when she no longer served a purpose. He would use her—hold her close, make her his submissive, obedient lover. He would keep her under his thumb until there was nothing left of her but a hollow shell of the woman she once was.

That was his goal. And it was all that mattered right now. But as he watched her, there was something nagging at him—a strange pull he couldn’t ignore. Something flickered in the depths of his chest, unsettling him for a brief moment. But he pushed it down quickly. No distractions.

What about Y/n? What was *her* goal? 

Y/n’s goal was far different. She hadn’t forgotten what had brought her here—what had driven her to this point. The truth. The elusive truth that seemed buried beneath his walls. She would get it. No matter what it took, she would uncover the man behind the mask. Even if it meant breaking him. Even if it meant pushing him to the very edge of himself. 

She couldn’t let herself falter. She had promised herself she would get the truth, no matter the cost. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it was worth it. 

However, deep down, she understood that it might be more complicated than she had first imagined. Kaiser was unpredictable, dangerous, and far more manipulative than she had given him credit for. But she had to try. She had to push forward. Even if she was playing with fire, even if it burned her in the process. It was the only way she would ever get to the heart of who Kaiser really was.

And as their paths collided, both of them were on the edge of something neither was fully prepared for.

Who knows, she might just get lucky.

She had already gathered enough intel—enough pieces of Kaiser's carefully constructed persona to build a story. More than enough to expose him, to rip the mask off and unveil the ruthless, complicated man he really was. A paper revealing his true nature would make waves—she was certain of that. Every word, every detail she had gathered felt like a potential key to unlock the final truths he was so desperate to hide. 

But that night, that moment of intimacy, what did it really mean? Did the sex they shared mean nothing in the grand scheme of things? Were they just swept away in the heat of the moment? Maybe it was just an impulse for both of them. Or maybe, it was something more—but right now, neither of them cared enough to dwell on it.

It wasn’t on the top of their priorities. Not now. 

For Kaiser, the goal was simple: to mold her into another loyal, subservient piece in his world. A filthy dog, obedient and at his beck and call. He wanted to control her, twist her into something he could possess—just like he had done with so many before her. He was used to having people bow to him, obey him, and now, Y/n was no different. The power struggle had only just begun.

But for Y/n, her focus was fixed elsewhere. She wasn’t concerned with the intricacies of his twisted games or his domineering desires. She cared only about one thing—getting the truth. The real man beneath the arrogance, the lies, the carefully constructed walls. The truth that had always been just out of reach. She wasn’t afraid to push him, to break through those defenses. She would squeeze the truth out of him, no matter how much she had to endure. That was the prize she sought, the only thing that mattered in this dangerous dance they were caught in.

Both of them had their objectives. And neither of them would stop until they achieved them.

༻♔༺

The grip around his phone tightened as a searing sense of disbelief coursed through him. How? How had this happened? How had she—*she*—managed to slip from his grasp, just when he thought he had her fully under control? 

That night... it should have been the turning point, the moment he solidified his hold over her. Didn't she already prove her loyalty to him? Didn’t she beg for more, didn’t she give in to him in a way that made her his, body and soul? Hadn't he already made her submit, wrapping her around his finger like it was nothing?

So what had changed? What had shifted in that brief moment, in the aftermath of all that power he had over her? 

Kaiser’s heart dropped in his chest. His eyes burned as they scanned the article before him. Reading those words felt like a punch to the gut, a reminder of everything he had fought so hard to bury. The words weren’t just an attack—they were a mirror, showing him the parts of himself he’d rather stay hidden. The article, no doubt penned by her, exposed everything: his drive for perfection, the way he had always lived in the shadow of his father’s expectations, the years of feeling like second-best in his own home. 

His teeth clenched so tightly it hurt. He wasn’t just angry—he was furious. But it wasn’t only anger that churned in his stomach. There was a gnawing anxiety, a sickening feeling that perhaps he hadn’t been as in control as he thought. The walls he had so carefully constructed were beginning to crumble, and there was no one to blame but himself.

He glanced back down at his phone, his eyes scanning the title again, as though hoping he had misread it. But no. The words were still there, mocking him. *"THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FAMOUS MICHAEL KAISER HAS BEEN REVEALED!?"*

The question mark seemed to echo in his mind. How could she have done this? How had she pulled it off? 

His world, carefully crafted and meticulously managed, was unraveling. And Y/n was the one holding the thread.

How had she gotten her hands on this? The question drilled into Kaiser’s mind as he racked his brain, trying to piece together the only possible answers. The only time he had opened up, the only time he had let his guard down—was that night on the football pitch. 

That night, when everything had slipped from his grasp.

He had confided in her, exposed pieces of himself that he kept hidden from the world. His anger, his frustration, the deep-rooted pain that had been festering for years—he had told her everything. 

And now, this? This betrayal? It was too much. His body tensed, muscles straining with fury as his veins popped, bulging out of his forearms and neck, as his grip tightened around his phone.

"Ill fucking kill her," he muttered under his breath, the words dripping with venom.

Ness, who had been nearby, instinctively stepped closer, sensing the shift in Kaiser’s mood. His voice came out in a shaky whisper, filled with concern. "Kaiser? There’s no need... just try to relax. We’ll figure out another solution—"

"Relax?" A dark chuckle rumbled from Kaiser’s throat, a sound that sent a chill down Ness's spine. Kaiser’s head tilted to meet his gaze, the look in his eyes sharp and cold. "Are you out of your mind, Ness?" His voice was thick with menace.

Ness swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew better than most what happened when Kaiser was pushed too far—he’d seen the chaos, the destruction. Kaiser was a force, and when his anger was unleashed, there was no telling where it would go.

Kaiser scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. Without sparing Ness another glance, he tore his gaze away and stared down at the phone once more, fury burning in his chest. "I’m going to find her," he muttered, his tone deadly quiet.

Ness’s eyes widened, panic rising in his throat. "Kaiser, I don’t think that’s a good idea..." His voice faltered, and he took a half-step back, fear flooding his veins.

"Who are you to tell me, Ness?" Kaiser snapped, his voice rising with barely contained rage. The words shot out of his throat, thick with anger as he glared at the other man. 

Ness stood still, his jaw clenched. He knew better than to argue with Kaiser when he was in this state—knew that continuing to push would only escalate the situation. So, he remained silent, his eyes dropping to the floor as he chose not to provoke the storm any further.

Kaiser’s footsteps were the only sound filling the room as he turned and stormed off. The sound of the door slamming behind him made Ness flinch, the sharp noise echoing through the still air.

Kaiser was gone. 

And Ness knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn’t be coming back until he got the answers he was looking for.

_______

It took less than thirty minutes for him to find her. 

For once, he didn’t have to track her down, didn’t need to follow her every move. She just happened to appear right there, walking down the same pavement he was on. It almost felt like fate had thrown him a bone. 

His eyes burned with fury as he locked onto her figure ahead. Every step he took toward her was driven by rage, and as soon as he spotted her, he didn’t hesitate. No pause. No second thoughts. He moved toward her with a single-minded purpose.

“You.” Kaiser’s voice sliced through the tense air, thick with irritation, as his glare locked onto her. 

Y/n could feel it—the suffocating heat of his anger, seeping through the space between them like a storm ready to burst. His eyes were hard, his body tense, every fiber of him radiating fury. Yet, she stood her ground, her posture unyielding. This confrontation had been inevitable. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped, his teeth gritting with each word, voice tight with barely contained rage.

“My problem?” Y/n’s lips twitched into an almost dismissive smile. “I’m just doing my job,” she said coolly, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious. 

“Your stupid job? You exposed me for what, a paycheck? To get some cheap satisfaction?” Kaiser’s words were now laced with venom, his anger flaring hotter with each second.

Y/n’s expression didn’t flicker. She was already too familiar with his temper, too accustomed to his threats. “Look, Kaiser,” she replied, her voice low but unwavering, “I know all about your little games. I know what kind of man you really are. Hell, I know who you are beneath that shiny mask you wear.”

A flash of something dark flickered in Kaiser’s eyes. His jaw clenched, and he took a step forward, his presence looming. “You don’t know shit about me, Y/n,” he growled, his voice thick with barely-contained rage.

Y/n tilted her head, studying him with an almost clinical detachment. “You’re right. I don’t. And that’s exactly why I only took what you revealed to me.” She met his gaze head-on, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a challenge. “Everything in that article? It came from you.” 

Kaiser’s fist clenched at his side, his breath coming in sharp bursts, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of him—at least, not in the way he thought.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white as the surge of anger built within him. "That was only a moment of weakness you found me in," Kaiser muttered, his tone sharp.

"A moment of weakness that revealed things about you," Y/n replied, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. 

Her words hit him harder than he cared to admit. She was right, and he hated it. In his moment of vulnerability, he had let down his guard, exposing himself in ways he never should have. How could he have been so stupid, so careless? He cursed himself inwardly. He had been weak, and now she had a foothold. She knew something about him—something raw, something real. And it unsettled him in a way nothing else had before. 

But what bothered him even more was how she acted like she had him all figured out. Her calm demeanor, the way she looked at him, like she saw right through him—it drove him mad. She wasn’t close to understanding him, not even remotely. She didn’t know the real him, not the one hidden under the mask. 

A small, bitter laugh escaped his lips. It was laced with annoyance, and it made Y/n raise an eyebrow, her gaze scrutinizing him.

"You use my vulnerability for some story, huh?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Just how pathetic are you?"

There was a flash of something deeper in his chest—a feeling of betrayal, but he couldn’t fully grasp it. It wasn’t just about the article, not really. No, there was more to it. It was the way she had used him, or so he thought. She had caught him at a weak moment and now she was going to expose it, turning his own pain into her narrative. 

Kaiser had always been in control, and now, in this moment, he felt the balance shift. He thought he had her right where he wanted her—on the verge of submission, ready to fall into his trap. But instead, she had found something he didn’t want her to see, something he wasn’t prepared to face.

For the first time, it felt like he was the one on the edge of losing control.

Kaiser stood there, his mind a storm of confusion and anger. His voice, though low, was laced with a tinge of vulnerability as he asked, "Did that night mean something to you?"

Y/n’s eyes widened at the unexpected question. She hadn’t anticipated him bringing this up—now of all times, in the middle of this confrontation. She could feel the tension thickening around them, and yet, she couldn’t avoid the truth. Her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to find the words.

Did it mean something to her? As much as she hated to admit it... yes, it did. The more she replayed the night in her mind, the clearer it became. It wasn’t just the rivalry, nor was it the way he always seemed to have her figured out. It was everything. 

She wasn’t sure when it started. Maybe it had grown out of the rivalry that once burned between them, or perhaps it was the way he would always read her so easily, effortlessly. But what mattered now was that she had become attached to him, in a way she hadn’t expected.

That night—when they were in the same bed, the space between them so much more intimate than she had ever imagined—she realized just how much she had been paying attention to him. His every movement, every shift, every detail. She noticed things about him, things she hadn’t before. Small things, subtle things that made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache.

And then there was his tattoo. 

The tattoo that stood out against his skin like a piece of art carved into his very identity. A blue rose, delicate yet fierce, wrapped in thorns that traced down his arm, curving around to the back of his hand where a crown rested. The crown, like a symbol of his reign over everything around him, contrasted sharply with the softness of the rose. 

The sight of it, the way it seemed to represent both his vulnerability and his strength, lingered in her mind. That tattoo—so personal, so telling—was a glimpse into the layers of Kaiser she hadn’t even begun to fully understand. Yet it was there, in plain sight, a quiet reminder of the complexities he hid beneath his cold exterior. 

She looked at him now, knowing she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Yes, that night meant something—more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.

Y/n took a deep breath, her eyes locked on his, her words carefully chosen as they left her lips. "Yes, it did," she answered earnestly, her voice steady yet carrying a weight of sincerity. Her gaze never faltered from his, willing him to see the truth in her eyes.

Kaiser's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. It did? He couldn’t fathom it. If she truly felt that way, then why—why—had she exposed him like that? Why had she published that article, revealing everything he’d worked so hard to keep hidden? The confusion in his chest twisted into something darker. 

He was about to speak, to demand answers, but Y/n continued, her voice cutting through the tension that had built up between them.

"But it’s not in the way you think, Kaiser." 

Her words pierced the air, leaving him on edge. Kaiser stiffened, his body language tense, every fiber of his being urging him to press for more. What did she mean by that?

He couldn’t understand. All this time, he had been convinced that the only reason she was with him, or even had any interest in him, was for the story. He had thought she saw him as nothing more than a subject to uncover, a mystery to be exploited. And yet, here she was, admitting that night had meant something—but not the way he had assumed.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly, but instead of answering, she turned the question back on him. "What about you, Kaiser? Did that night mean anything to you?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his earlier fury simmering beneath the surface, but something about her tone made him hesitate. What was she trying to say?

Kaiser didn't speak; instead, he waited, his expression a mask of impatience mixed with genuine curiosity.

Kaiser’s mind raced, the question hitting him harder than he expected. Did that night mean anything to him? He furrowed his brows, his gaze shifting as if trying to find the words that had evaded him. 

He had always prided himself on controlling his emotions, on keeping everything locked down tight. Yet, in that moment, with Y/n's eyes locked onto his, he felt something stirring inside of him—something unfamiliar, something foreign.

The dream, the one where Y/n was just another piece in his game, where she would bow to him, would surrender, was still there. But beneath that, there was something else. A fleeting warmth that he couldn’t quite grasp. Something about that night had been different. 

He felt it in the way her gaze softened when she spoke to him, in the way her touch lingered, in the way her presence seemed to affect him more than he cared to admit. 

He glanced away briefly, his mind racing, trying to piece together what it was that bothered him. The control, the power he always sought—it was still there, but it was almost overshadowed by... something else. Something he couldn’t quite define. 

And that, above all else, frustrated him. Because he didn’t like feeling unsure. He didn't like being caught off guard, especially not by someone like Y/n.

Her question hung in the air, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he watched her, trying to decipher her expression. What did she want him to say? Did she want him to admit that he felt something more than just the fantasy? 

But he couldn’t admit that—not yet, not to her.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost guarded. "It meant something... but not the way you think." His words mirrored hers, but there was a tension in his tone that didn’t match the certainty in hers. 

It was her turn now to see through him, to decide if she believed him—or if he was lying to himself.

Kaiser’s gaze never left her, his eyes scanning her face as if trying to find some answer in her expression. He couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes caught the dim light, how they seemed to shimmer in the shadows. He noticed the way her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, slightly tousled, as if she hadn’t been paying attention to how she looked at all. Her breath matched his, slow and steady, but there was an underlying tension, a shift between them that was too subtle to ignore.

It frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t put a name to what he felt. It wasn’t like him. He was used to knowing exactly what he wanted, used to controlling every aspect of his life. But her—Y/n—she was the only thing that made him feel off balance, like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. 

He had always dismissed her as just another person in his orbit, someone who was part of the game. But now, it was different. He could no longer ignore the small details, the things he had overlooked before—the softness of her gaze, the way she stood, the way she carried herself. 

He shook his head, trying to push those thoughts away. This wasn’t about that. Not yet, anyway. 

To answer her question, he still wasn’t sure what he felt, and maybe he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t afford to—he needed control, always. So, he deflected. "I don't know. Probably not," he muttered, his voice quieter now, the anger from before beginning to dissipate.

Y/n’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, he saw a glimmer of something—disappointment, maybe. But it was gone before he could fully register it. She nodded, her hands resting at her sides, and let out a soft breath. "That’s expected," she replied, her voice calm, almost detached.

That simple acknowledgment—her acceptance of the situation—stirred something inside him, a flicker of irritation that seemed to rise again. She knew how to push his buttons, how to make him feel small even when she was being neutral. 

His frustration came rushing back, the old anger bubbling up inside him. "But that still doesn’t answer why you published that story about me," he snapped, his tone sharp now, his eyes narrowing in challenge. 

Her gaze didn’t waver, and he hated that. She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. She was too composed, too in control. But that only made him want answers more.

Kaiser’s eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense, almost burning with frustration. She wasn’t backing down. She hadn’t given him a single shred of an answer that would satisfy him, and it infuriated him even more. She wasn’t budging, wasn’t cracking under the pressure. She just stood there, unwavering, as if his anger meant nothing.

He let out a frustrated huff, his jaw clenched. She was still sticking to the same tired excuse, and he hated it. “That’s bullshit,” he growled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Y/n sighed, her gaze shifting slightly as if she were trying to stay calm in the midst of his rising fury. She was tired of this back and forth too, but she wouldn’t give in. Not to him.

“Look, Kaiser, if you’re looking for someone to blame, it’s you,” she shot back, her voice steady, but tinged with something sharper now. “You let me in. Whether you meant to or not, you did. The truth isn’t a betrayal—it’s the one thing you’re too scared to face.”

Her words stung, and Kaiser could feel his anger flaring up again, more intense this time. “Like hell it is,” he snapped, his body moving towards her as if he couldn’t contain the boiling fury inside him anymore. His bangs fell over his eyes as he took another step forward, his proximity almost suffocating. 

She was calm, too calm, and it grated on him. He wasn’t about to let this slide, not without getting something more out of her. He was done with the charade, the bullshit. “Do you not have decency? I know there’s another reason, so stop bullshitting and just get out with it,” he demanded, his voice low and threatening.

Her expression didn’t falter, but something flickered behind her eyes—a flicker of defiance, a spark of something more. But it was fleeting.

The fire inside him flared higher, threatening to consume him whole. He wanted to break her composure, make her reveal something, anything that would give him control again. 

But Y/n didn’t let him have that. She wasn’t going to bend to his will.

“I’m not bullshitting anything, Kaiser,” she replied, her voice cold, almost emotionless. The fire she felt inside only made her more resolute. This was the truth, and he would have to accept it. She wasn’t going to let him manipulate her into something else.

Kaiser’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his frustration building, yet something in his gut twisted. He knew she wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it. The dynamic between them had shifted, and it made him uneasy. He hated that.

But Y/n? She was standing firm, and that made him even angrier.

A sharp, frustrated 'Tch' escaped from Kaiser's lips as he stared at her. He didn't want to admit it, but maybe she was right. Maybe she was just that devoted to her job. It didn’t sit well with him, though. The thought of her treating his vulnerability as nothing more than fuel for a story made him feel a knot twist tighter in his gut.

But he couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge it fully—not yet. Not when his emotions were swirling in a hurricane of rage, regret, and irritation. Betrayal. That was what it felt like. The whole damn thing felt like a betrayal. 

He had let her in, he had allowed her to see his cracks. He had been in a state where his mind was raw, open, desperate for some kind of connection, and she had been there. He thought she understood—he thought, for once, that she could see him beyond the walls he’d built. But now, he hated himself for it.

His thoughts raced back to that night. He’d felt weak, vulnerable, and yet there was a strange comfort in her presence. She had been the only one there, the only one who had seen him in his lowest, most unguarded state. But now? Now, all that felt like a mistake. A massive, unforgivable mistake.

His chest tightened as frustration clawed at him, and he clenched his fists at his sides. His anger flared with every beat of his heart. Regret gnawed at him relentlessly. He hadn’t realized how much he had truly relied on her in that moment—how much trust he had placed in her, even for just a fleeting second. It was laughable now. He couldn’t even look at her without feeling the rush of bitterness in his throat.

He scowled, eyes narrowing as he processed everything. The anger in him boiled over, yet there was still something—some nagging feeling—that wouldn’t go away. It was like a foreign sensation, one that felt… different from what he was used to.

"Those fucking annoying feelings," he muttered under his breath. That’s all he could label them for now. Annoying. Uncomfortable. Unwanted.

Kaiser couldn’t admit it yet, not to himself, and certainly not to her. He wasn’t ready to confront whatever the hell this was. He just couldn’t. It was easier to shove it aside, to focus on the anger, on the betrayal, on the hurt.

But deep down, Kaiser knew that feeling wasn’t going away. And that realization, despite the rage clouding his thoughts, only made him more unsettled. 

The argument continued, a relentless back-and-forth, neither side willing to bend. Kaiser’s denial clung to him like a shield, a fragile barrier against the truth he wasn’t ready to face. His anger flared, a smoldering fire that refused to die. Y/n, on the other hand, stood firm, unwavering in her stance, her answer never changing, no matter how many times he tried to push her. 

They were locked in a battle of wills—Kaiser, consumed by his emotions, and Y/n, resolute in her position, each too proud to give the other the satisfaction of yielding. The silence that followed the last words they exchanged felt heavier than the heated argument itself. 

Both of them were left to stand in the aftermath, unsure of what came next. The walls they had built between each other felt thicker, harder to penetrate. What had started as a connection, a mutual understanding—even an unspoken bond—now seemed like a distant memory, drowned by the weight of their words and the tension between them.

Could this broken, fractured relationship survive the collision of their worlds? Was there a way for them to move past the hurt, the betrayal, and the raw emotions that had been exposed? Or had they reached a point where this was the inevitable end?

Kaiser, his mind still buzzing with questions, couldn't help but wonder if anything could ever bridge the gap between them again. Y/n, equally torn, questioned whether it was even worth it to keep fighting for something that seemed to slip further from her grasp with every passing moment.

The future felt uncertain, a blur of unanswered questions and lingering doubt. One thing was clear though—they were both changed by this. Whatever came next, their relationship, whatever form it might take, would never be the same again.

༻♕༺

A rush of exhilaration surged through Kaiser as the ball hit the back of the net, the goal sending a wave of adrenaline flooding his veins. The stadium erupted in cheers, but for him, the applause was distant—almost insignificant compared to the fire burning inside him. This match wasn’t just another game. It had become personal.

Kaiser’s movements were sharp, reckless even. His anger, his frustration, it all came spilling out in the form of brutal tackles, calculated risks, and explosive speed. He was consumed by the thought of her, the way she had exposed him, the way she had dared to challenge him. His focus had shifted from winning to something far more dangerous—domination.

Every strike of the ball was a release, a cathartic outburst. His kick had more power, more intensity than ever before, as if he was channeling all of his unresolved emotions into each play. The world around him blurred. His mind wasn’t on the game—it was on her. 

Kaiser had a new goal now, a fresh obsession that had wormed its way into his thoughts. It wasn’t just about proving himself anymore. No, now he wanted more. He wanted her to bow to him—not just in respect, but in submission. He wanted her to plead for forgiveness, to feel the weight of her betrayal in the pit of her stomach. 

With every goal, with every play, his frustration intensified. It was as if each victory on the field brought him one step closer to breaking her down, to seeing her on her knees. It was a dangerous game he was playing—both with the ball and with his own emotions. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was this close to making her feel what he felt. 

The match raged on, but Kaiser’s mind was already several steps ahead, imagining the scene he would create. The ball at his feet felt almost like an extension of his will—a tool to help him gain control, not just of the game, but of everything.

A small sigh of relief escaped Kaiser's lips as the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the match. Their team had claimed victory. The tension that had gripped him throughout the game seemed to loosen, though not entirely. His mind still buzzed with restless energy, the anger he’d channeled into his performance lingering beneath the surface. But now, the chaos on the field had settled. 

As he made his way off the pitch, he saw her. There she stood, waiting, her presence like a magnet pulling his focus. For a moment, he stopped, his feet frozen, eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. Despite the boiling frustration and resentment he felt, something else tugged at him—something that gnawed at him, unexpected and unwanted. 

A strange mix of longing curled in his chest, subtle but undeniable. It was the same feeling he’d experienced before, the one he hadn’t allowed himself to fully acknowledge. The one he hadn’t been able to label. And now, standing there, it threatened to overpower him. He wanted to look away, to push it down, but he couldn’t. The ache was growing. 

Y/n met his gaze, her expression softening, a shadow of sadness clouding her features. There was something in her eyes that spoke volumes—regret, yes, but also a deep, unspoken longing. It mirrored his own. She knew she had crossed a line, and though she tried to justify it with her job, she knew it wasn’t enough. The excuse was weak, even to her. 

Kaiser swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pull, the twisting in his gut. He shifted his gaze away, unwilling to meet it any longer. He couldn’t afford to get caught up in this mess again, not now. So instead of walking toward her, he turned, the sound of his footsteps loud in his ears as he made his way to the locker room. 

But as he walked, the ache in his chest only deepened. It was a sensation he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. The more he distanced himself from her, the more the weight of it settled in.

༻♔༺

Months had passed, and Y/n found herself once again attending one of Kaiser's matches—this time to cover his triumphant return to form. It had been so long since they'd had a real conversation. The exchanges between them had been reduced to nothing more than fleeting glances, heavy with words unsaid. There had been no resolution, no attempt at understanding. Just silence, stretching between them like an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

As usual, she didn’t expect him to approach her after the game. She had learned not to expect anything from him. So, she improvised. She couldn't keep avoiding him, and she couldn't let it go on like this. There had to be a proper conversation, one where words were exchanged, where truths came out. She just had to talk to him, even if it meant breaking the stillness.

It happened that after the match, he was slated to sign shirts for the fans. Kaiser had initially resisted, unwilling to participate in the post-match rituals, but his managers had insisted, practically forcing him to stay and sign memorabilia. Y/n saw her chance.

She walked up to him, her heart hammering in her chest, trying to steady her breath. His expression was unreadable, his eyes distant. From the outside, he seemed calm, almost detached, as he handed her a signed jersey. But she could see it—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as if he were holding something back. Inside, he was struggling, as if something inside him was unraveling.

A flicker of regret flashed across Y/n’s face as she began to speak, but before she could gather her thoughts, it seemed as if Kaiser was the one breaking the silence. He spoke first, his voice quieter than she had expected, devoid of anger but filled with an unfamiliar vulnerability.

“To be honest,” he started, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before lifting to meet hers, “you were right about the whole thing… about me not being able to see the truth instead of the betrayal.” His voice softened, the harshness gone. “I thought winning was all I needed. But I realized something... you can't be king of an empty castle.”

His words hit her like a wave, a mix of sorrow and disbelief washing over her. She had spent months trying to ignore the ache of their unresolved tension, but in that moment, everything seemed to shift. Her chest tightened as his admission sunk in, and she found herself unable to look away from him.

Her voice cracked when she finally spoke, softer than she intended. “And I can’t love someone who only knows how to keep people at arm’s length.”

The words felt like a confession, a truth she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself until that moment. It wasn’t just about him anymore—it was about them, the space between them that had grown too wide, too unbridgeable.

Kaiser’s eyes widened, his breath catching as he heard her words. That was it. That was the word he had been searching for, the word that had been dancing around his thoughts for months. Love. 

The feelings that had plagued him, the ones he had been dismissing as mere annoyance, suddenly clicked into place. It all made sense now. He was falling in love, something he had spent his life pushing away yet finding, something he had told himself he didn’t need but craved. But now, standing here, with the truth staring him in the face, he realized it was everything he had wanted—and everything he had been too afraid to embrace.

But even in that realization, something else weighed heavily on him. It was too late. The feelings, the words, the truth—none of it could change what had already been lost. Y/n had already made her choice, and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

For a moment, Kaiser stood there, frozen, as the reality of his own heart hit him. It was a bitter, almost hollow feeling. He had spent years building walls around himself, pushing everyone away, thinking that the power, the success, the titles were enough. He thought they could fill the void. But now, looking at Y/n, he realized they never had. 

The king, the one who had always sworn to make others bow before him, now found himself bowing his head in defeat. It was a strange, painful irony. He had craved power, respect, adoration—but what he had never expected was that the one thing he truly wanted, the one thing that had eluded him all these years, was the one thing he had pushed away the hardest.

Kaiser felt the weight of his loss, the emptiness that followed the admission he had just made. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The trophies, the fame, the victories—it all seemed insignificant in the face of the one thing he couldn’t have. 

He had lost her. And no amount of titles, no number of wins, could ever bring her back.

Y/n, for her part, stood in stunned silence, her heart aching as she saw the pain in his eyes. There was nothing else to say. No words could fix this, not now, not after everything that had happened. They were both standing in the ruins of what could have been, and neither of them knew how to rebuild it. 

She took a step back, her own heart heavy with the realization that what they had could never be. Not like this. Not after all that had passed between them.

With one last look, she turned away. Kaiser stood there, watching her go, feeling the emptiness inside him grow. The silence between them was louder than any words could ever be. And in that silence, Kaiser finally understood.

༻♕༺

He watched her from a distance, his gaze following her every move as she conducted another interview with one of the players. The scene was familiar, yet it felt distant, like a memory from a past life. Despite the days that had slipped away since their last encounter, Kaiser remained a king in the eyes of the world. His crown still gleamed, his fame intact, and yet his heart carried a weight he couldn't shake. His eyes, once fierce with ambition, now lingered on Y/n with an aching mixture of regret and longing. The feelings he'd buried deep inside him seemed to claw their way to the surface every time she was near, and he couldn't escape the pull.

On the outside, no one could tell what had happened to him. The public continued to see the indomitable athlete, the ruthless champion whose titles and success overshadowed everything else. But beneath the polished exterior, a man was unraveling. The armor he wore so effortlessly could not shield him from the ache in his chest, nor could it conceal the truth he had tried to ignore. 

Y/n, on the other hand, moved through her days with a quiet determination, her heart guarded, but forever tethered to what had been. She kept the signed jersey he had given her, folded neatly in her closet, a relic of a time that felt both distant and close. It was a memory she couldn’t part with, no matter how much it pained her. She had always kept mementos—small reminders of things she wanted to hold onto—and this, despite everything, was one of them. A symbol of what had been, and what could have been. She would never throw it away. Not ever.

Though their paths had diverged, the space between them growing wider with each passing day, neither of them could escape the thoughts of the other. They remained in each other’s minds like an unspoken promise, a lingering memory of something beautiful yet broken. The past they shared hung between them, invisible yet palpable, a constant reminder of what they had and what they lost.

Kaiser remained on his throne in the stadium, ruling the field as he always had. But when it came to matters of the heart, he learned too late that even kings must face the consequences of their actions. His victories, his triumphs, came at a cost—a price he had never imagined paying. In the end, no title, no championship, could fill the emptiness left by what he had let slip through his fingers.

And Y/n? She moved forward, just as determined, just as focused—but her heart carried the weight of a loss that could never truly be healed. She had once believed in the possibility of something more, but now she knew better. Some victories come with too much sacrifice, and some battles are never meant to be won.

Both of them would carry the memory of what could have been, each in their own way, as they moved through the world. But deep down, they both knew—no matter how far apart they were, a part of them would always remain with the other.

a/n: AYGHHH HIS SEXY ASS FINALLY GOT ANIMATED FOR LIKE 10 SECONDS BUT THATS OKAY

This also took me longer than I expected. It was supposed to be published on the 25th (Kaisers bday‼️😫)

[spcherryygirl]

SO, KISS ME ! m. townsend x f!reader

𝓢ynopsis: exhausted. whiny. refusing to get up. your head hurts. your legs hurts. everything hurts. good thing michael’s got a cure▰kisses & absolutely no privacy.

𝓦arnings: not proofread. nicknames(sunshine, sweetheart, angel). the word, "dramatically" being overused(that's the theme./j).

𝓝ote

001. a littttlllee something for @bloodwrittenletters . i hope you feel much better than before!! please, please, please be sure to take medicine if your head still hurts. xoxo

002. the nickname sunshine is there because bella's a sunshine indisguise😝😝

003. vi uses the word "and" here. but it's "aaaaannndddddddd" soyeye

mornings where no bad shit happened weren't meant to be this draining.

you knew you should be awake by now. hell, you could already hear the others. lia's sharp teasing(targeted on dean), cassie laughing at something, sloane rambling random facts as usual, but the moment you attempted to move, your body betrayed you. your head pounded, your legs felt like you'd just sprinted a marathon, & every single muscle in your body sobbed at the mere thought of getting up.

so you didn't.

until michael.

his knock was almost a warning before your door creaked open. "morning, sunshine," he said, & oh, you could hear the smirk in his voice. "or should i say afternoon?"

you groaned, rolling over to hide your face in the pillow. "go away."

"wow, that's rude." you could hear him still standing by the door, but the gentleness in his voice made his words less sharp. "everyone's already up. you planning on sleeping all day?"

"yes."

"sweetheart▰"

"michael, no."

he laughed, & then▰unfairly▰he came over to you. the bed shifted beneath his weight as he sat at the edge, & you felt his hand lightly touch your arm. gods, he's beautiful. his stupid, handsome face makes you wanna throw up. "you okay?"

you whined back, tucking in on yourself. "no. i'm dying."

"oh no." his fingers stroked reassuring circles on your skin. "not dying, dying, though? because i feel like i would've gotten a warning sign if you were really on death's doorstep. like, beep! beep! kachow!”

your eyebrows furrowed, not that he can see it. ’this guy▰’

"i might be," you complained dramatically. "my head is hurting. my legs are hurting. i think i've been poisoned."

"huh," he hummed, as if he was actually mulling it over. "tragic. any last words?"

you peeked out from the blankets just to glare at him. he smiled.

“you’re annoying.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

his grin widened. “that’s my girl.” & then, tone much, much, softer, “you really don’t feel good?”

you shook your head, curling deeper into the covers. “just tired. so tired.”

michael sighed, rolling until he was lying next to you. he pulled you gently against him, & with no hesitation, you relaxed into his heat. his arms came around you, holding you firm but gentle, his fingers drawing slow, circles, triangles, diamond, hearts, butterflies, & flowers patterns on the small of your back.

"better?" he asked softly.

you hummed into his chest. "you're warm."

"i am kind of amazing, right?"

you huffed a tiny laugh. "you're full of yourself."

"& yet, you're cuddling me," he teased. then, softly, "you should've told me you weren't feeling well."

"didn't know how bad it was until i woke up."

he kissed the crown of your head, staying there for a moment before retreating just far enough to gaze at your face. "well, next time, tell me sooner. i'll carry you everywhere if i have to."

you snorted. "dramatic."

"hey, if you can claim you're dying, i can claim i'll carry you around like the princess you are."

before you had a chance to answer, he leaned in & pressed a slow, soft kiss to your mouth. it was gentle▰no teasing smirk here, no playfully sharp edge▰just… warm, comforting, michael. your michael.

when he drew back, he smiled. "see? kisses are scientifically proven to make people feel better."

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help grinning. "says who?"

"me. & i'm very smart, y'know."

you prodded his ribcage. "debatable."

he caught your hand as you tried to jerk it away, interweaving your fingers together. "you wanna stay here a little longer?"

you hesitated, fatigue still heavy in your body, but before you could respond, the two of you heard footsteps coming towards you.

michael groaned dramatically. "aaaand there goes our peace & quiet."

your door pushed open once more.

"oh my god, you're still sleeping?" lia spoke, crossing her arms & leaning against the doorframe. cassie was standing next to her, smiling obviously, while sloane popped in curiously. even dean was present, though he remained quiet, looking on from behind the others.

you groaned once more, dramatically flopping over onto your back. "why is everyone here in my room?"

"because you're the last one up," cassie replied with amusement.

"& because we thought you were dead," sloane completed. "but michael said you were sleeping. he was right. obviously."

"i can't believe you let him wake me up," you accused.

michael chuckled. "i volunteered. seemed like the best thing to do. well, for you, at least. lia would've splashed you with water."

"damn right i would've." lia grinned.

you groaned again. "i hate all of you."

"lies," lia stated smugly.

michael leaned in, laying another kiss on your temple. "you in the mood for brunch?"

you sighed, still tired but cozy under his caress. "…if you'll carry me."

he chuckled. "angel, i'd have done it anyway."

© minorlyatfault, 2025

[majinael]

Unspoken Agreement.

★Michael Kaiser x GN Reader

★738 words

I was a trained athlete, so it was only natural for me to frequent the best gym in the city—one renowned for attracting professional athletes. It was my sanctuary, a place where like-minded people pushed themselves to their limits. Yet, despite the familiarity of the crowd, I never expected a simple mishap to change my routine.

It happened on an unremarkable day. My water bottle slipped from my grip and rolled across the polished gym floor, stopping at the feet of someone I hadn’t noticed before. As I walked over to retrieve it, I glanced up—and my heart skipped a beat. His face was arresting, framed by sharp features and hair tipped with blue, yet it was his eyes that struck me most. They shimmered like the ocean, deep and endless. How had I missed someone like him in a place I came to daily?

“Thanks,” I said as he handed me the bottle. Desperate to prolong the encounter, I played my go-to card. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

A flicker of amusement passed over his face. “You must know me. I’m the best football player in the world.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his audacity. But then he launched into a confident monologue, listing his accolades and exploits as we wandered the gym floor. He was unapologetically self-assured, yet something about his tone had me hooked—like he wanted me to believe every word.

When my alarm buzzed, signaling the end of my workout window, I excused myself reluctantly. “It was nice finally talking to someone here,” I said, waving goodbye. His proud smirk lingered in my mind for the rest of the day.

The next day, he was there again, standing near the spot where my bottle had fallen. It was almost as if he was waiting. I seized the chance, greeting him with a teasing smile. “Well, isn’t that the best football player in the world?”

His grin widened, and for the next three hours, we trained and chatted, slipping into an easy rhythm that felt... effortless.

For a month, this pattern continued, a series of “coincidences” that became a fixture in my routine. Most of our conversations were light—surface-level musings that didn’t venture too deep—but there was an undercurrent to him I couldn’t ignore. His personality was a kaleidoscope, shifting between cocky bravado and moments of quiet introspection.

And those eyes—those mesmerizing blue eyes—told a story he refused to share. There was something heartbreakingly sad in them, a vulnerability he kept tightly guarded. I wanted to ask, but I never did. Instead, I spoke enough for the both of us, hoping to draw him out, even if only a little.

I’m not in love, I told myself. I can’t be.

But my heart wasn’t so easily convinced.

One day, I forgot my gym access card—a result of my pet’s antics with my bag. By the time I’d retrieved it and returned to the gym, I was fifteen minutes late, sweaty and annoyed with myself. As I scanned the room for him, the frustration melted away.

There he was, his tall, lean frame drenched in sweat, blue-tipped hair clinging to his forehead. He stood by a machine, staring at his watch with an expression that tugged at something deep inside me. Was that disappointment?

When I approached, his usual cocky grin softened into something genuine. It was small, almost imperceptible, but I saw it—and my heart betrayed me, twisting in ways I didn’t understand.

“You’re later than usual,” he teased, his voice lighter than his expression had been moments before.

“Forgot my card,” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.

He smirked, “If you wanted to use this machine, you could have just asked, instead of.. staring, you know.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, determined to prove myself and erase from his mind the idea I was just staring at him. But the truth betrayed me—I had no clue in the world on how to use the machine properly. He caught on instantly, of course, and his teasing was relentless.

“I knew you smarter than that,” he chuckled, shaking his head with that all-knowing look of his.

But even as he mocked me, I couldn’t stop watching him. His laughter, his confidence, even the way he leaned against the equipment—it all drew me in. And when he turned his head to meet my gaze, I realized I was no longer standing on the edge of those ocean eyes.

I was drowning.

HIIII! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU’VE SHOWN FOR MY PREVIOUS STORIES—IT TRULY MEANS THE WORLD TO ME AS I WRITE PURELY FOR FUN, SO I NEVER EXPECTED TO RECEIVE SO MUCH KINDNESS AND ENTHUSIASM FROM ALL OF YOU. IT’S THE HOLIDAYS NOW, SO I’LL DO MY BEST TO WRITE AS REGULARLY AS I CAN DURING THIS TIME. STAY TUNED FOR MORE STORIES, AND THANK YOU AGAIN! XOXO<333 (also animated Kaiser YAAAAAAY)

[mjwhisperer]

𝚃𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 & 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐

Smut

1986

New York City

Word Count: 10.7k

The hotel suite pulsed with the relentless beat of music, every throb reverberating through the walls as you lay on the bed, trying to focus on the movie flickering across the screen. But with the heavy bass pounding through the air and Michael's voice cutting through the chaos as he rehearsed for his upcoming short film, concentration was a lost cause. You knew better than to interrupt him when he was in his zone, especially with the tension that had been building over the last few days. He was becoming more withdrawn, his stress accumulating like storm clouds, and even the brief moments before sleep had become silent and strained.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.

With a sigh, you gripped the remote and turned the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise from the main room. The television blared, but it was barely a match for the music and the sharp edge in Michael's tone as he barked out instructions to the dancers. You could almost hear the frustration in his voice, the way it cracked like a whip through the air.

Suddenly, the music cut off, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. A knock on the bedroom door broke the quiet before Michael slipped inside. His usually well-kept curls were in disarray, his tie hung loose around his neck, and one of his sleeves was still buttoned as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on you.

"Can you turn that down, please?" His voice was strained, almost pleading, but it held a firmness that warned against defiance.

You didn't say anything, just reached for the remote and lowered the volume, the room now thick with unspoken tension.

"Thank you," Michael murmured before slipping back out, closing the door softly behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a reminder of the growing distance between you.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the way he'd been acting gnawing at you. You were done tiptoeing around him. Without hesitation, you clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside, throwing the covers back with a decisive flick. As you rose, your reflection caught your eye in the mirror, the black satin of your nightgown clinging to every curve, a silent testament to the power you still held over him.

You reached up, fingers brushing through your hair, letting it tumble down your shoulders in a soft cascade. With one last glance in the mirror, you crossed the room and opened the door, the music immediately assaulting your senses once more.

Your footsteps were muffled against the plush cream-colored carpet as you made your way down the hall. When you reached the main room, your bare feet met the cool surface of the hardwood floor, grounding you as you took in the scene before you. Michael was in the middle of the room, his movements sharp and precise as he demonstrated choreography to Jeffery and Gregg. But the moment you entered, their focus shifted, eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and something far less innocent.

"Damn, Mrs. J," Jeffery muttered, his voice dripping with appreciation.

Gregg let out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, instantly drawing Michael's attention.

His gaze snapped to you, narrowing as he took in your appearance. "Baby, what are you doing out here dressed like that? Go back to the room," he commanded, his tone a mix of protective concern and simmering irritation.

Ignoring his words, you sauntered across the room, feeling the weight of their stares on you. You sank into the plush sofa, crossing your legs slowly, the satin of your gown shifting with the movement. "I just came to watch," you teased, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's not like I'll be a distraction."

Michael's jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin as he fought to keep his composure. He looked away from you, a storm brewing in his dark eyes as he clapped his hands together sharply, drawing the others' attention back to him. "We don't have all night," he snapped, his voice a dangerous edge. "Let's get to work, and quit eyeing my wife."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, their tones subdued, though you could still feel their lingering gazes.

As the music surged back to life, you leaned deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa, savoring the heat that curled in your chest. The satisfaction of knowing you had his attention, the way his eyes flickered back to you despite his attempts to stay focused, sent a thrill through you. You weren't about to let that go—not tonight.

Your gaze followed his every move, mesmerized by the fluidity of his body. The way his hips swayed in time with the beat, the sharpness of his spins, the precise snap of his fingers—it all spoke of control, discipline, and a deep, simmering passion. But there was also a wildness to him tonight, the way his half-untucked shirt clung to his torso, how the damp air clung to his curls, making them even wilder. Despite the chill of a November night in New York, the heat in the room was palpable, a testament to the intensity with which he worked.

Michael turned to speak to the dancers, his voice authoritative, though his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary before he forced himself to look away.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that curled your lips as you slid your feet up onto the couch, reclining in a way that accentuated the curve of your body. With a slow, deliberate motion, you let one of the straps of your satin nightgown slip down your shoulder, your eyes never leaving his. The moment it fell, his attention snapped back to you, the frustration clear in the tight line of his mouth. You winked at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenched in response. He was trying to maintain his composure, especially in front of his colleagues, but you knew you were getting to him.

Determined to keep the game going, you called his name, your voice a sultry purr that sliced through the music. "Michael..."

He sighed deeply, a sound heavy with exasperation and something darker as he turned to face you. "Yes, doll?" he asked, his tone betraying a careful restraint.

"I'm thirsty," you said, your voice laced with innocent mischief. "Could you get me a glass of juice?"

Michael's eyes darkened, a silent warning that you were treading on thin ice. "You two keep working. I'll be back," he told the dancers, his voice clipped as he walked off toward the kitchenette. The sharp sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut punctuated the tension in the air.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine—a mix of anger and desire burning beneath the surface. He handed you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. "Here," he said, the word barely more than a growl.

You looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you accepted the juice. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, your tone sweet and saccharine.

Michael leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Keep going, and I won't be nice after I'm finished rehearsing." His hand cupped your chin, his grip firm but not painful, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You held his stare, your smile widening as you felt a delicious thrill run through you. "I'd like that," you replied with a soft chuckle, your voice thick with anticipation.

A shiver visibly ran through him, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he sighed deeply, releasing your chin and pulling back. Without another word, he returned to the dancers, his movements sharp and deliberate, though there was a new tension in his body. You could tell you were getting to him, unraveling that tight control he always prided himself on.

As you sipped your orange juice, your eyes locked onto Michael, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Every move he made was laced with tension, his body more charged, more deliberate, as if he was trying to shake off the effect you had on him. But you knew better. No amount of rehearsing could quell the fire you'd ignited tonight. The game was on, and it was clear you were winning.

When Michael finally wrapped up the rehearsal, he escorted the dancers to the door, his demeanor calm and composed, though you could sense the storm brewing beneath his cool exterior. He watched them walk down the hallway to the elevator, his eyes following them until the doors closed. The click of the lock echoed through the suite as he secured the door for the night.

He turned back to you, leaning casually against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. The tension in his posture was palpable, yet his voice was deceptively calm as he crooked a finger, beckoning you over. "Come here."

You took your time, savoring the last sip of your juice before setting the glass down on the side table, condensation pooling beneath it on the wood. You stood and walked over to him, your eyes never leaving his, the distance between you closing with each step until you were just a breath away.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice soft, almost innocent, though the challenge in your eyes was anything but.

Michael's gaze traveled slowly down your body, then back up to meet your eyes. "What were you trying to do?" he asked, his voice low, simmering with restrained frustration.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. "What do you mean? I just came in to watch."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of incredulity in his expression. "Dressed like this? In your nightgown?" His voice was sharp, each word edged with the accusation you knew he was holding back.

You met his gaze with a defiant tilt of your chin. "It's late at night, Michael. What do you expect? You should have rehearsed earlier instead of the ass-crack of midnight," you shot back, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Michael's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he fought to keep his temper in check. "Watch your damn mouth," he hissed, the words coming out harsher than he intended.

You shrugged again, your expression daring him to make good on his warning. "You gonna make me?" you challenged, your voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. "You've been doing all this talk, but where's the action? Saying you're going to do this to me, do that to me, but where's all the follow-through? Hmm?"

Michael's eyes darkened further, his frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface as he bit the inside of his cheek, a vain attempt to rein in the storm brewing within him. The fire in his gaze told you that you were pushing him, maybe even further than he could handle. The tension between you was almost unbearable, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment. His restraint was admirable, but you could see it fraying, and it was only a matter of time before it unraveled completely, releasing something far more intense.

"What?" you taunted, your voice cutting through the thick silence. "You're just going to stand there and look at me like that? Fine, I'll just go to bed then." You turned on your heel, making a move to leave, but Michael's hand shot out, his grip firm as he pulled you back, your body colliding with his. The heat of his frustration and desire radiated off him in waves, and for a moment, all you could feel was the intense thrum of his heartbeat against your own.

"What's your issue?" he demanded, his voice low, gravelly, tinged with the barely restrained anger that you'd stirred up in him.

You met his gaze, your expression unyielding, even as your pulse quickened under his touch. "What's your issue?" you countered, raising a brow, your tone defiant.

Michael's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your arm just enough to make you gasp. "Stop acting like this," he growled, his voice laced with a warning that you were all too eager to ignore.

"And what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, your eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to meet his gaze. The smirk on your lips was enough to push him even closer to the edge, and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes—the battle between his desire to maintain control and the overwhelming urge to give in.

For a moment, Michael just stared at you, his eyes raking over your form as if undressing you with his gaze alone. He licked his lips, his frustration giving way to something darker, something more primal. He released his grip on your arm, but before you could step back, his voice cut through the air, cold and commanding.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

A smile curled on your lips as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, the anticipation thrumming in your veins. Michael reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your face, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive tenderness. "Open your mouth," he whispered, his voice a dark promise of what was to come.

You obeyed, parting your lips for him, your gaze locked onto his as you looked up, awaiting his next move. Slowly, deliberately, he eased his four fingers into your mouth, his other hand cradling the back of your head as he pushed them deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure of his fingers making your eyes water as you fought to accommodate him.

"You're going to stop teasing me, right?" he murmured, his voice dark and laced with a dangerous edge. "Stop acting up when I'm working? Because that's what you seem to keep doing."

The weight of his fingers in your mouth made it difficult to respond, but you nodded as best you could, your eyes watering further as he pulled your head up slightly, forcing you to gag on his fingers. The involuntary reaction sent a shudder through your body, and you could see the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, his voice sharp as he applied just a bit more pressure.

You nodded again, the movement constrained by the tight grip he had on you.

"Will you stop?" he pressed, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You nodded once more, your eyes pleading, though the defiant spark hadn't entirely left them. Michael smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he watched you, the power dynamic between you crystal clear.

"I don't know if I believe you," he murmured, his voice thick with suspicion and a hint of amusement.

A whimper escaped your throat, your eyes wide and filled with pleading as you gazed up at him, desperate for some form of release, though you knew you were far from done playing this game. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, and you could feel the weight of your actions bearing down on you, the consequences of your teasing unfolding in real-time. The smirk on his lips only grew, and you knew that you were in for exactly what you had been provoking all night.

Michael's gaze darkened further, his breath catching as he felt the tension between you both mounting. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, every sound, every movement magnified in the charged atmosphere you'd both created. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips in a gentle caress that belied the intensity burning in his eyes. He tapped the side of your face lightly, and you obediently closed your mouth, the teasing smile still playing at the corners of your lips as you held his gaze.

"Get up," he ordered, his voice stern, commanding.

You rose to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared him down, the flames of desire flickering between you, growing hotter with each passing second. Michael advanced on you, his presence overwhelming, forcing you to retreat step by step until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. You fell back, your eyes never leaving his as he loomed over you, his expression unreadable, a mix of controlled fury and unspoken need.

"Take it off," he demanded, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated only for a moment, letting the tension stretch before you reached up and slowly pulled down the straps of your nightgown, your eyes locked on his as you revealed yourself to him. The fabric slid down your arms, pooling around your waist before you let it drop completely, leaving you bare before him. The warmth of the room caressed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Michael's gaze as he devoured every inch of you with his eyes.

Michael stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he loosened his tie, yanking it off and tossing it carelessly onto the sofa. But before it could settle, you grabbed it, wrapping it around your neck with a playful grin, holding the ends in your hands as you looked up at him through your lashes. "What are you going to do to me?" you asked, your voice a sultry whisper as you spread your legs, inviting him in.

Michael's eyes flicked down, taking in the sight of you before returning to your face. He moved in, standing between your legs, his large hand cupping your face, tilting your head back so that you had to look up at him. The raw power he held over you was palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he raised a brow, challenging you to push him further.

Your hand trailed up his thigh, brushing over his growing erection, feeling the heat radiating through his slacks. He groaned at your touch, his jaw tightening as you gave him a teasing squeeze. "You've been stressed," you murmured, your voice filled with a mix of sympathy and seduction, knowing full well the effect you were having on him.

Michael's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident in the way his breath hitched. "I know I have. I've been busy working," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control.

You leaned in closer, your voice a sultry whisper as you teased, "Lose the stress." Then, without warning, you turned around on the sofa, presenting yourself to him on all fours, your back arched provocatively. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

Michael's control snapped. He moved in, pressing his body against yours, his arousal grinding into you as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling you back into him. He started to dry thrust against you, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his other hand settled on the small of your back, holding you in place. "I will," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "But you've been teasing me, and I think it's time for me to tease back."

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, each one pushing you closer to the edge as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs, soaking through his slacks. The pressure of his bulge against your bare core was maddening, heightening your need with every movement, but he held back, refusing to give you the release you craved.

"You don't like when I tease you, do you?" he asked, his voice laced with a dark amusement, enjoying the power he held over you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of his touch, the heat of his fingers searing a path down your spine. "I do," you panted, the words coming out breathy, laced with the challenge you knew he couldn't resist. Glancing back at him, your eyes burned with a fiery determination, a silent dare that you knew would ignite something uncontrollable in him. The moment your words left your lips, you saw it—the final shred of restraint in his gaze snapping, his pupils darkening to pools of raw desire. His body, taut and coiled like a predator ready to strike, trembled with the need to claim you, to make you his in a way that left no room for doubt.

Michael's grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you back against his chest, the heat of his body searing into your skin. The press of his solid form against your back made your breath hitch, the raw power in his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm and teasing as it ghosted over the sensitive skin. "Keep playing with me," he growled low, the words a heated promise that made your knees weak, "and you'll get exactly what you're asking for." The threat in his voice was underscored by the flick of his tongue, tracing a tantalizing path up the side of your neck, leaving a trail of wet heat that made you whimper.

"Stop teasing..." you whimpered, the words slipping out involuntarily as you leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

His hand moved lower, the pads of his fingers brushing over the slick folds of your core, a featherlight touch that had your body arching into him, silently begging for more. "Payback, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver straight to your core. "Can't I have a little fun too? After all, you came out here dressed in something only I should see." His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, the fleeting contact making you gasp before he pulled away, leaving you trembling and aching for more.

"Michael, please..." The plea left your lips in a breathless rush, the need coursing through your veins becoming unbearable.

In response, Michael's mouth found your neck, his lips brushing against your skin before sinking in to leave a heated, wet trail that burned with every touch. His hand traveled back up your body, his touch deliberate, almost possessive, until he cupped your breast, his thumb circling your hardened nipple. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the roughness of his grip made your head spin, your body aching with the intensity of your desire.

His kisses grew more urgent, a mix of soft and rough that left your skin tingling, the wet spots he left behind a mark of his claim. You could feel his teeth graze against your flesh, adding to the delicious torment, each kiss fanning the flames of the fire he had ignited within you.

"Where do you want to do this?" Michael whispered against your ear, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to take you right here, on the floor, in the bedroom... or should we go out on the balcony?" His breath hitched as he nipped at your earlobe, "I'll have you screaming my name all over this city. Let them know just how good I can please my wife."

A needy moan escaped your lips, the thought of being at his mercy in the open air, the night sky above and the city below, sent a thrill through you. "I don't care," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I just want you."

Michael released his grip on your hair and breast, stepping back slightly as he commanded, "Stay here." The absence of his touch left you whimpering, your body yearning for more.

You watched as he strode over to the balcony door, the anticipation building in your chest. With a swift motion, he slid the door open, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the heat of the room. The wind blew through his hair as he stepped out, surveying the city below. He turned back to you, his eyes dark and filled with intent. "Come here," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You stood, your legs trembling as you walked over to him, the cool air brushing over your bare skin, sending another shiver down your spine. Michael's gaze lingered on you, his eyes drinking in every inch of your exposed body. He turned his head, glancing over to the piano, where your heels rested. With a calculated step, he walked over and grabbed them, bringing them back to you. "Put these on," he instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want your feet getting messed up."

You slipped on the heels, the cool leather contrasting with the heat of your skin, your body bare except for the tie still draped around your neck. "Michael, it's cold out there..." you said, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension as you looked out onto the balcony.

Michael shrugged, his eyes narrowing with a mix of challenge and desire. "I don't care," he said, his voice unwavering.

"But Michael, it's—" Your protest was cut off as his hand wrapped around your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you close, the sudden pressure sending a shock of arousal through your body. "I don't care," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "Either you let me fuck you on this balcony, or you're not getting anything."

You nodded quickly, your breath catching in your throat as you breathed out, "Yes, Michael..."

With a satisfied smirk, Michael released his hold on you, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you walk outside onto the balcony. The cool air nipped at your skin, but the heat of your desire burned hotter, pushing away any discomfort. You dropped to your knees before him, the hard surface of the balcony pressing into your skin as you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of need and anticipation.

Michael moved closer, his eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity that made the world around you seem to vanish. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a faint glow across the balcony, but all you could focus on was him—the way his body radiated heat, the way his breath hitched as you roamed your hands up his clothed thighs.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with anticipation as your fingers traced over the fabric of his slacks, feeling the heat of him beneath.

His response was silent, a slow, deliberate nod. His hand found the top of your head, fingers slipping through your hair in a tender, almost possessive caress. His eyes never left yours, dark and heavy with desire, as he watched you undo his slacks, the tension between you building with every second. You pulled the fabric down just enough to reveal the strained bulge behind his linen briefs, the outline of him achingly clear.

Your hand slipped inside, wrapping around his hard, throbbing length. The moment you touched him, you could feel the heat, the pulsing veins that ran along his shaft, each one a testament to the hunger coursing through him. His tip, swollen and slick with precum, glistened in the low light as you pulled him free, the thick skin taut over his aching need.

Michael's hand rested atop yours, guiding your movements as the two of you stroked him in unison. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, the tension in his body palpable as you flicked your tongue out, teasing the sensitive tip. The taste of him was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made your body hum with anticipation.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, savoring the taste as you ran your tongue over the bead of precum that lingered on his tip. "You taste good," you murmured, your lips curling into a playful smile as you bit your bottom lip, your gaze locked onto his.

Michael smirked in response, his thumb brushing gently over your lip before watching it fall back into place. "Pretty girl," he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

As you both continued to stroke him, his length grew harder, the tension in his body intensifying with each movement. You could feel him throb in your hands, the need in him rising as you lowered your head and flicked your tongue around his tip, tasting every bit of him. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, sucking lightly at first, teasing him with the soft press of your lips as your tongue swirled around his length.

His hand tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm pressure as he watched you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The lights from the city bathed his face in a warm glow, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the raw hunger in his eyes. "Just like that, baby," he praised, his voice husky, strained with the effort of keeping control. "You're doing so good."

His words sent a flush of warmth through you, spurring you on as you took him deeper, your mouth stretching around him as you began to bob your head, taking him further with each pass. The feeling of his hard length sliding over your tongue, the way he pulsed in your mouth, filled you with a heady sense of power.

Michael's hands slid to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he let you take control, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Your lips moved down, inch by inch, until you had taken him to the base, your mouth full of him as your tongue traced the thick vein that throbbed along the underside of his shaft. You could feel the way his body reacted, the way he shuddered with pleasure as you pulled back, sucking hard on his sensitive tip before plunging down again.

His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he watched you, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. "Fuck, just like that," he groaned, his voice thick with need. The raw power of his desire sent waves of heat through you, your own body aching for him as you continued to suck him, each movement drawing him closer to the edge.

You felt him throb in your mouth, his body tensing as he neared the brink, but he didn't let go—his hands guiding you, his hips thrusting ever so slightly as you worked him deeper and deeper, your mouth and tongue driving him wild with every flick and swirl. The balcony seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the rhythm of pleasure, the quiet sounds of the city nothing compared to the heat that crackled between you.

The taste of him, the way he filled your mouth, was overwhelming, pushing you to give him everything, to bring him to the peak and feel him unravel completely in your hands—and in your mouth.

Michael's grip tightened on your head, fingers threading through your hair as he thrust harder, the slick sound of your saliva filling the air as it dribbled down your chin and onto your chest. Each stroke of his hips was forceful, deliberate, pushing deeper into your mouth until you could feel his tip grazing the back of your throat with every movement. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you gagged lightly, the sensation sending shivers through your body as you held onto his thighs for balance.

"Good girl," Michael groaned, his voice low and thick with pleasure as he watched you take him, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva glistening on your skin. "This is what you wanted, right?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tightening around him as he thrust even harder, his pace quickening. The heat between you was unbearable, the tension building as he moved faster, his length driving deeper into your mouth, your body trembling from the intensity of it. You gagged again, the sound muffled around him as he pulled out slightly, only to ram himself back into your throat with even more force.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the pleasure. You let your jaw go slack, relaxing your throat as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely, letting him use you.

Tears welled in your eyes, the pressure building as he moved with a desperate urgency, his hips bucking against your face, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands. You gazed up at him, your eyes watery, cheeks flushed, feeling every pulse, every throb of his cock as he neared his climax.

A heavy groan ripped from his throat, his body trembling as his grip tightened on your hair. "I'm gonna cum," he gasped, thrusting deep one final time, his cock buried in your throat as he released, the warmth of his seed filling your mouth in thick, hot spurts.

"Just like that, baby. Take it all," he whispered, his voice ragged with pleasure. You swallowed, your throat working around him as you took every last drop, your body shuddering with the effort as you didn't waste a single bit.

As he slowly pulled out, his breathing still heavy, he reached down and wiped your lips, his thumb brushing over your chin. Without a word, he eased his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck the last remnants from his skin, the taste lingering on your tongue as you gazed up at him, your lips still parted.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slid it between his own lips, sucking it clean with a satisfied groan. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "Now get up," he said, his eyes flashing with renewed hunger. "I'm not done with you yet."

Michael pulled you to your feet with a fluid motion, pressing you tightly against him, your chest flush against his. His hands roamed down your waist, gripping you possessively as he gazed over your body. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm as his eyes devoured every inch of you before meeting your gaze, the heat between you palpable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need, as you reached up to gently brush a stray curl from his face.

A slow smile curled on his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek before he leaned in closer, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. "I love you more," he murmured, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "But bend over for me," he added, loosening his grip on your waist. "I told you I'm not done."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you walked to the edge of the balcony, your heels clicking against the cool concrete beneath you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing against your skin as you bent over, your chest pressing into the thick, stone railing. Michael's footsteps echoed behind you, and the warmth of his presence filled the space as he came to stand behind you.

You wiggled your hips, teasing him, feeling his gaze burn into you. "You're such a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

"I know," you replied, casting a coy glance over your shoulder. "I like what I do."

A low chuckle rumbled from him as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "I can't stand you," he murmured, though the affection in his voice betrayed his words.

"Neither can I," you teased back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Michael dropped to his knees behind you, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed over your folds, and you shivered in anticipation. "Wider," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You obediently spread your legs further, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands roamed over the back of your thighs, warm and rough, before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you. The sensation was electric, sending a wave of pleasure rolling through you.

"Oh, Michael," you moaned, your voice trembling as you arched against the railing. His tongue danced over your sensitive clit, teasing and flicking, before he wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly. The world outside seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation, his mouth working magic against you.

His hum of approval vibrated against you, and you gasped as his tongue slid inside you, sending a shock of pleasure through your core. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the railing, your head falling back as you moaned into the cool night air, the sound echoing into the darkness.

Michael's hands gripped your behind, kneading the flesh before bringing one hand down in a sharp smack that echoed through the night. "Fuck, Michael!" you cried out, the sting of his palm intensifying the pleasure.

Without warning, his fingers slid inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping slowly, each stroke deliberate as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, standing up behind you, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin.

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling under his touch. The lights from the city reflected off the balcony, casting a soft glow across your face as you felt him press closer, his presence overwhelming.

Michael leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, your moans vibrating against his mouth. The taste of him mixed with the remnants of your own essence, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin. His free hand roamed up your back, fingers curling around the tie still hanging loosely from your neck.

With a firm pull, he tightened the tie just enough to pull you back against him, the pressure making your breath hitch. "Fuck..." you breathed, the heat between your bodies reaching a fever pitch.

"You can take it, princess," he murmured against your ear, his fingers inside you now moving faster, thrusting with a relentless pace. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure built to an unbearable intensity.

"Michael, I'm close..." you moaned, your voice desperate, pleading as your body ached for release.

"Just a little longer, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm almost done."

You whined, your entire body shaking as you gripped the railing tighter, your legs quivering from the strain. The pressure was building, overwhelming, and you felt yourself on the edge, begging for that final push over. "Michael, please..."

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapped around your waist as you tossed an arm back, wrapping it around his neck, your body desperate for more contact. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, "This is what you wanted, right?"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and with a final thrust of his fingers, the tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body convulsing as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

Michael held you firmly in his grasp, his strong arms anchoring you to him as your legs gave out beneath you. Your trembling body shuddered violently in his embrace, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you struggled to remain standing. His grip was unyielding, his hands tight around your waist, ensuring you didn't fall apart completely as the overwhelming waves of pleasure continued to crash through you.

"Michael, please," you gasped, your voice cracking with the weight of your release. "I can't hold it any longer..."

His lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath making you weak all over again. "Let go," he whispered, his voice dark and filled with a hunger that sent another shiver down your spine.

At his command, the last bit of tension within you unraveled like a taut string finally snapping. Your release rushed forward with an intensity that felt almost magical—like a spell, impossible to resist, cast upon you by the one man who knew your body better than anyone else. You moaned loudly, your voice echoing into the night as your release dripped down your thighs and his hand, soaking his fingers.

"Just like that, baby," he whispered against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, the warmth of his breath adding to the fire that still burned inside you. His voice was a smooth murmur, soothing and encouraging. "Let it all out for me."

Your legs shook uncontrollably, your knees buckling as the overwhelming pleasure took control of every muscle in your body. "M-Michael," you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you gasped for breath. "I-I can't take it..."

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending vibrations through you. "You can," he murmured, pulling his fingers out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you aching and empty. "And you will."

Your body trembled as he lightly pushed you forward, guiding you to bend over the balcony railing. The cool air hit your flushed skin, contrasting with the burning heat between your legs. His hand moved to the back of your neck, gripping it with firm but gentle authority. You whimpered softly as he released your neck, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

Every touch, every caress, felt electric, and the anticipation that followed each gesture made your body ache with need. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, your body responding to his touch with a fire that only he could ignite—a fire that would only be quenched by him.

Michael leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, his voice a low whisper in your ear. "You want more, baby?" he asked, his words dripping with sensuality. "Because I can go all night... and you know this."

You nodded weakly, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to form words. "Y-Yes, Michael..." you whimpered, your body trembling with desire, desperate for him to fill the void he had created.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he stood back up, his eyes dark and filled with lust. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Whatever my baby wants, she gets."

His hand wrapped around his hardened length, and you couldn't help but watch over your shoulder as he brushed the swollen, glistening tip against your soaked folds. The teasing, the slight pressure of his tip pushing just inside before retreating again, drove you mad with need.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need you... Please."

His smirk widened as he teased you again, pushing just the tip in before pulling out, keeping you on the edge, building the tension inside you once more. "I know, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with control and desire. "And you're gonna get exactly what you need."

Michael's smirk deepened as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for more, for all of him. The teasing had driven you to the edge, and now the burn of anticipation was almost unbearable. His eyes were dark and intense, his gaze locked onto yours as he let a slow drop of saliva fall onto his shaft, the slickness adding to the heat between you. "Be patient," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, making your breath hitch.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling as you felt him slowly start to press into you. Inch by inch, his thickness stretched you, filling you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness making you gasp as your walls squeezed around him, struggling to accommodate his size. Your body responded instantly, your muscles tensing as you moaned out, the sound raw and desperate.

He pushed deeper, each inch filling you further, until he was buried to the hilt, his length pulsing inside of you. "Damn..." Michael breathed, his voice rough with arousal. The sight of your bodies connected, his thick shaft disappearing into your slick heat, sent a surge of possessive pride through him. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight grip of your walls around him, his breath coming in heavy pants.

You tried to reach back, your fingers brushing his skin in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him, but Michael quickly caught your hand. His grip was firm, his eyes narrowing as he placed your hand back on the railing. "Move your hand," he ordered, his tone firm but laced with heat. "I'll move when I know you're ready."

His words sent a shiver through you, the tension building again as your body adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Slowly, he began to move, pulling out just enough to make you feel the loss before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate thrust. His hands were everywhere—possessive, demanding, claiming every inch of your body as his. Each touch sent sparks of electricity down your spine, the sensation of his rough palms on your skin intoxicating.

Michael's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he adjusted your position, arching your back even further, opening you up for him completely. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice thick with lust as he looked down at where your bodies met. The sight of your slick arousal coating his length drove him wild, a primal need taking over as he watched your body respond to him so perfectly.

Every inch of your body drove him wild, but it wasn't just that—it was the entirety of who you were that unraveled him. The tenderness in your touch, how your fingers would skim over his skin as if you knew just where he needed to be soothed. The way your lips found his, so soft and searching in moments of quiet, whispered love. And the way you looked at him—like he was your world, like nothing else mattered. Those moments had stitched themselves into his heart, every tiny piece of you becoming a part of him, and now, as he moved within you, he poured all that he felt into each thrust, a rhythm woven with emotion.

"Michael..." you whined, your voice trembling with want, "I want it all, stop being so soft."

His grip tightened on your waist, rough hands securing your body as he slowly slid out, teasing you with a deliberate slowness before driving back in with a powerful, unrestrained thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, knuckles white as they gripped the railing. Each thrust was forceful, his body pushing deep inside you until it felt like he was touching the very core of your being. Your legs trembled, and you instinctively reached back to grasp him, needing that connection, but he was quicker. His hand clamped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, owning you in that moment.

"Michael, I—" you whimpered, but your words faltered, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Use your words, baby," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "I can't hear you."

"I can't take it," you managed to gasp, pleading, your breath hitching with every thrust.

His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his skin searing into yours as his thrusts grew more intense, each one a deep, visceral pulse. His breath was hot and heavy against your ear, lips grazing your neck as he whispered, "Yes, you can, baby. You can always take it."

His words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through you, and you moaned, needing more, craving the fullness of him. The wind had picked up, stirring the night air, and raindrops began to fall, light at first, a gentle mist that kissed your skin. But then the sky opened up, drenching you both as the storm unleashed itself, the cool water cascading down your bodies. The rain slicked your skin, making every touch, every thrust feel even more electric, the friction replaced with a primal urgency. But Michael didn't stop. He wasn't going to stop—not until he was done.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he groaned, his voice deep and raw. His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer as his hips slammed into you harder and deeper, the tip of him grazing against your cervix with every forceful motion. Your moans turned to desperate cries, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, your body shaking as his name ripped from your throat, the sound lost in the symphony of pouring rain.

The lights from the hotel and the city around you cast a shimmering glow through the rain, painting the night in streaks of gold and silver, the wet pavement gleaming beneath your feet. It was surreal, like the world had fallen away, and there was nothing but the two of you in that storm.

"Michael, don't stop," you begged, your voice barely audible over the pounding rain, reaching back to him, your hand tangling in his hair. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he kissed and sucked at the soft, tender flesh, his groans vibrating against you. His hands moved, exploring your body, fingers tracing your stomach before gripping your hips once again, pulling you back onto him with an almost desperate need.

His body, slick and hot against yours, felt like fire against your skin, grounding you in a moment that seemed to exist outside of time. The rain poured down relentlessly, drumming on the rooftop, mingling with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together. The cool rainwater was a stark contrast to the heat between you, soaking your clothes until they clung to your form, heavy and almost suffocating, making you feel raw and exposed. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of color through the sheets of rain, casting glimmers of neon pink, blue, and gold onto your slick skin, but none of it mattered. The only thing real was him—the way he touched you, how his body melded with yours in a primal, unyielding rhythm.

"I love you so much," Michael's voice was hoarse against your ear, a whispered confession as his hand slid slowly up your stomach, lingering over the curve of your ribs before settling around your neck. His fingers pressed lightly at first, just enough for you to feel the power behind them, the possessiveness in his grip.

Your moan was soft, barely audible over the storm, but the intensity behind it told him everything he needed to know. Rain fell on your lashes, blurring the city skyline before you, but Michael was crystal clear, his hair plastered to his face, strands falling into his eyes as he gazed at you with unrelenting focus. His clothes, soaked through, stuck to your bare skin, creating a friction that heightened the raw sensuality of the moment, every slick sound of your bodies coming together echoing through the rain-soaked air. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body on the brink, but something inside you held back, not ready to let go just yet.

"More, Michael, more," you begged, your voice strained, teetering on the edge of desperation as his grip around your throat tightened. You needed it—craved it.

"You beg so beautifully, princess," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. The low, teasing tone of his voice only fueled the fire building inside of you.

You matched his rhythm, your hips thrusting back against him, falling into perfect sync with each heavy movement. The thunder roared in the distance, splitting the sky with a flash of lightning that illuminated the dark terrace in a blinding burst of white. For a second, everything was bathed in light, and you both looked up, mesmerized by the storm's fury before your eyes met again, the tension between you more electric than the storm itself. Michael's grip tightened, pulling you closer, his lips wet from the rain as they crashed into yours, the kiss raw and hungry. You moaned into his mouth, the deep, throaty sound vibrating between your lips as your bodies moved together in perfect, frantic harmony. His tongue danced with yours, every brush sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body, as the storm outside raged on.

Your core burned with an unbearable need for release, and Michael, always in tune with you, knew exactly how close you were. His angle shifted just slightly, but it was enough. His length hit that perfect spot inside you, over and over again, until your legs trembled and your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. You kicked off your heels, your bare feet pressing into the slick, wet concrete as you finally let go, the release building inside you until it burst free like a wildfire.

Your moans were muffled against his lips as your body convulsed, trembling with the force of your orgasm, your release coating his length, warm and slick, down to the base. Michael wasn't far behind. You could feel him, his thighs twitching, his body tensing as he gripped your neck even tighter, pushing himself deeper, harder, with one final thrust that sent him over the edge. His release was hot, spilling deep inside you, filling you completely as he groaned into your neck. He continued thrusting through the aftershocks, his body shuddering as he milked every last drop of his release, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

As your bodies stilled, you pulled away from the kiss, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Rain drenched your faces, dripping from your hair and mingling with the sweat on your skin. "I love you..." you whimpered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to stop, Michael."

"I don't either, baby," he whispered back, his lips brushing against yours, his need for you still burning as he kissed you again. His hips moved faster, harder, sending you spiraling into a second climax. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hands gripping the railing so hard your nails dug into the metal, while the other hand clawed at his rain-soaked skin.

Michael pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto your lips as your moans caught in your throat. "Let it out, baby," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear you." His hand came down across your face, a sharp, stinging slap that sent your moans spilling out into the rain, echoing through the night as the storm roared around you.

He started to slow his pace, his thrusts becoming slower, deeper, savoring every last moment before he finally pulled out, watching as your combined essence dripped down your inner thighs, glistening in the faint glow of the city lights.

Michael stepped back, his chest heaving as he watched you lean heavily against the railing, your body spent, trembling with exhaustion. He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair, his clothes clinging to him as the rain fell harder, turning into tiny pellets that stung against his skin. Without a word, he moved closer, scooping you up with ease and tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Grabbing your heels with his free hand, he turned and sprinted back into the suite, away from the storm.

The door clicked shut behind you both, locking out the chaos of the night as he set your shoes aside and bolted the door. The world outside was a distant roar now, muffled by the thick glass, but the tension still lingered in the air, thick and heavy. He carried you down the hall, your bodies dripping rainwater onto the polished wooden floors as he made his way to the bathroom, turning on the soft, warm lights.

Without a word, Michael gently set you down on the cool marble counter, his eyes scanning your shivering, trembling body for a moment before he turned and walked over to the bathtub. He turned on the water, watching as steam rose from the tub before adding bubbles, the scent of lavender filling the air, calming and soothing. His wet clothes hit the floor in a heap as he stripped down, leaving him bare and beautiful, every muscle defined and gleaming under the light.

He moved back to you, his hands steady as he helped you off the counter and guided you into the warm, inviting water. You sank into the bubbles with a sigh, feeling the heat soothe your aching muscles as Michael slid in behind you, pulling your body against his chest. The water rose around you, covering you both up to your chests, the warmth wrapping around you like a protective blanket, shielding you from the storm still raging outside.

As Michael settled behind you in the bath, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest. His body was a fortress of warmth and strength, a stark contrast to the cool storm still raging outside the windows. The water lapped gently at your skin, the bubbles clinging to your damp hair as you let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but it held a trace of concern. His hands traced slow circles on your stomach, soothing the trembling that still lingered in your body.

"More than okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That was... I can't even describe it."

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your back. "Yeah? You took everything I gave you like the perfect little princess you are." His lips brushed against your temple, and you could feel the pride in his tone, mingled with a possessiveness that made your heart race all over again.

Your eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, the warmth of the bath, the way his voice sent shivers down your spine despite the heat. "I love it when you call me that," you murmured, turning your head slightly to press a soft kiss to his jawline. "Makes me feel like I'm yours."

He chuckled again, this time deeper, more primal. "You are mine, princess. You know that." His grip tightened around you, his hands moving slowly up your torso until one hand rested on your chest, the other trailing back to your neck. He held you there, not tightly, but with enough pressure to remind you who was in control. "I never want you to forget it."

"I won't," you promised, your voice a little breathless now as his fingers brushed over your skin, teasing you despite the calm of the bath.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the rain outside now distant, a faint backdrop to the quiet intimacy you shared. His hand dipped back down to your waist, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip under the water, making your breath hitch.

"Tell me," Michael said after a long pause, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want right now."

You bit your lip, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your eyes half-closed. The feel of his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin was driving you insane. "I just want more of you," you whispered. "I don't want tonight to end."

His lips grazed your ear, a teasing warmth that sent a wave of heat flooding your body again. "More of me?" he murmured, his voice dark with amusement. "Didn't I just give you all of me out there in the rain?"

You smiled lazily, your body relaxing more against his. "You know it's never enough with you, Michael. I could drown in you and still want more."

He let out a low growl, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Damn, baby, you're making it hard for me to keep my hands off you."

"Then don't," you teased, turning your head just enough so you could meet his gaze, your lips brushing his as you spoke. "I don't want you to hold back."

Michael's eyes darkened as he looked down at you, his hand sliding back up to your throat, this time gripping a little tighter. "Careful what you wish for, princess."

"I know exactly what I'm wishing for," you whispered, daring him with a playful smile.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, his breath heavy against your cheek. Then, without warning, he surged forward, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like he needed to claim you all over again.

You moaned into his mouth, the heat between you reigniting in an instant, the warmth of the bath doing little to quell the fire sparking between your bodies. His hand stayed firm on your throat, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse, while his other hand wandered under the water, teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

"Michael..." you gasped between kisses, your hands reaching behind you to grip his thighs as you arched against him. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to murmur the words against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside me again," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I can't get enough of you."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as he shifted beneath you, positioning himself so that you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you under the water. "You're so greedy, baby," he growled softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "But that's okay. I'll give you exactly what you need."

Before you could respond, Michael's hand slid between your thighs, the warmth of the water only intensifying the sudden jolt of pleasure. His touch was deliberate, confident, parting your legs as he pulled you into his lap. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him press against you, the anticipation building with every passing second. Slowly, almost teasingly, he pushed inside you, the water rippling in response to the agonizing slowness of his movements.

"Is this what you wanted, princess?" he whispered, his voice husky as his lips brushed your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His words hung heavy in the steamy air, a dark promise wrapped in desire. "Is this what you've been begging for?"

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your head falling back to rest against his broad shoulder. The world seemed to melt away as your body trembled beneath his touch, completely at his mercy. "More... don't stop..."

His hands tightened around your waist, a possessive grip as he began to move within you. The pace was deliberate, slow, but unyielding—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The soft splash of water echoed in the quiet, mingling with your breathless gasps, creating a rhythm only the two of you shared. Outside, the storm raged, lightning flashing through the windows, but it felt distant, as if nothing else existed except this—the closeness, the intensity, the moment.

Michael's lips found your temple, brushing softly against your skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words like a vow sealed between you. "I'll never stop loving you. Never."

Your moan was a soft, involuntary response, your fingers digging into his thighs, grounding you as you surrendered to him completely. The steady, unrelenting rhythm of his body against yours filled your senses, each movement an intoxicating blend of pleasure and intimacy. "I love you too," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

The night stretched on, the storm outside now a faint hum in the background as you and Michael moved together like two wild creatures, lost in your own world. His touch was insistent, his need palpable, and you gave in to every moment, every sensation, as he released his pent-up stress and you reveled in the pleasure that consumed you both. Time blurred, and all that mattered was the way he made you feel—wanted, loved, and utterly alive.

[vacate-et-scire]

Heyo! Could I get a matchup for Blue Lock? ( ≧∀≦)ノ💙

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

MBTI: ISFP

Appearance: Long wavy brown hair, fair skin, amber eyes. 1,68 m (5,6) - Average height tend to tall (Curvy).

Personality: Optimistic realist, Nightowl, Ambiviert, friendly and polite, a go with the flow person, i'm usually pretty chill, lazy bean who is a sleepyhead, i may be nice

and be good with all kinda of people but when someone gets over my boundaries/insults my family/acts disrespectful towards me I tend to get mean and say rude words, so don't mess with me :3. I'm trustworthy, keep secrets, and keep my emotions and feelings to myself. I'm very observant and read people well, so they can't manipulate me easily. Stubborn, Chaotic. Dark and sarcastic humour is my kinda humour. I'm also extremely sarcastic towards what I care about and will call them weird, adorable nickname as a sort of love language, whether it be platonic or romantic. People often call my smile pretty and call me very adorable. I'm always a happy girl, but they don't know my inside at all. Cheerful, mysterious girl. I tease the people I like and give them nicknames. I only open up easily when I vibe with someone, but if not, I'm distant and friendly.

Likes: Music, food, books, manga, anime, mythology, history, art, astronomy, my favourite animal is the red panda, stuffed animals, cats, and seafood.

Dislikes: Spiders, bugs, people that are obnoxious, dirt, coffee, math, being interrupted.

Hobbies: Dancing, Drawing, writing, Art, Gaming, watching anime, films and shows, going to the cinema, museum, shopping, Reading and collecting my favorite characters (usually husbandos from anime/ mangas) Nendoroids, acryl figure etc. I'm lying in bed at night and scrolling through Instagram reels, reading Wikipedia articles over historical stuff (always researching stuff I don't know).

I like smart, strong, witty, and funny guys who stimulate my intellect. As well teasing, somehow it's adorable and cute when you banter around together. Someone who i can be myself, be like besties who play together but also keep me stable. Someone who has a sharp tongue and doesn't hesitate to tell how he views things/his opinion.

Take your time, and thank you for doing that. Have a lovely day/night/ afternoon

( ﾟ∀ﾟ)人(ﾟ∀ﾟ )

Your Blue Lock Matchup: Michael Kaiser

Okay, hear me out here, Michael is obnoxious, and cocky, we see it all the time, but I think it would be different with his partner. If he is to love someone he would have to love them so so deeply for him to trust and get past his walls that he's put up, and you'd kinda have to teach him how to love and be kind, but he'd be listening eagerly because he wants to make you happy, only you, he values you and everything you hold dear. When considering your layered personality, Michael Kaiser stands out as your perfect-ish match. He's charismatic and sharp, which aligns seamlessly with your need for a smart, witty partner who can match your energy in playful banter and intellectual discussions.

Things would probably be very distant at the start, but as things settle, he will open up to you at the same pace you do. He loves a challenge, and your observant nature and strong boundaries would make him respect you deeply. Your ability to read people and stand firm when pushed would be very needed in your relationship with him, he tends to not always be completely truthful even to himself so to have a partner who might understand how he's feeling even when he's trying to push it all down it would absolutely make him melt.

Your teasing and sarcastic humour? It’s a language Kaiser speaks fluently. He likes to be... rude when talking to people but when it comes to his partner he tones it down, he loves to tease and pick small fun, it keeps the tone light and easy for him, comfortable. And while the more intimate moments are slightly uncomfortable for him since he doesn't completely understand love, yet he can't get enough of it from you.

Your artistic side and love for mythology, history, and astronomy would fascinate Kaiser. He’d love listening to you talk about your latest research rabbit hole or admiring your drawings, even if he doesn’t entirely get the nuances of art. He’d probably joke that your talent should be used to paint his portrait—but deep down, he’d be genuinely impressed and would see if you could sketch tattoo ideas for him.

Kaiser is the type who would absolutely spoil you. Whether it’s indulging your love of shopping, taking you to museums, he’d make sure you feel cherished. He's loaded, I mean the ace of his world-class team? He can afford to spoil you and really does like gift giving, although he prefers receiving since he's never gotten gifts for anyone before, but he's trying his best.

[angelmichelangelo]

i’d be curious to see your take on #7 with the rise b-team after the whole tank incident in the movie

#7 trapped in room/closet/elevator

x

read on ao3!

Donnie’s mind has seemingly decided on giving up trying to rationalize this whole situation.

Maybe it’s the feel of his own heartbeat racing hard against his temples or the pitchy, panicked voice of the little brother he’s got trapped in here with him, but all his usual tricks to temper his rising anxiety doesn’t seem to be working because he’s fairly certain he doesn’t have a fix for this.

Mikey is, he’s sure, starting to hyperventilate from beside him, bringing his knees up to his chest, eyes wide and so blown out the blue-y greens are swallowed up by the darks of his pupils and each breath that comes seems to be shorter and sharper than the last.

It’s Mikey’s panic that shifts his rationalization into gear, even if it’s clunky and awkward and not at all smooth, he stands on wobbling legs to get to his brother.

“Hey.” He speaks loud over the sound of metal starting to bend and warp. Something groans and hisses, like the vehicle itself was starting to cry out in agony under the pressure it was being subjected to. He taps Mikey’s arm with just one finger when he gets no immediate response. “Michael. Hey.”

Mikey takes a small, aborted gasp, eyes slowly sliding from across the room to meet his. His mouth is taut in a tight frown and his hands are trembling where they’re locked in around his legs, keeping himself tucked into a small ball.

“In and out, through the nose and then the mouth.” He makes himself comfortable on the floor beside him. “And I need you to tell me the exact historical timeline of Michelangelo's work pieces.”

His brother manages a frown, top of his mask wrinkling under the expression. “The what?” He rasps. Donnie shuffles closer, knees pressing against the bottoms of his feet, like if he were to scoot any closer, they might just merge into one being. “Give me the timeline,” he asks of him again, keeping his voice steady. “I know you know it.” Mikey blinks, and there’s a tell flashing across his face that he knows what Donnie is up to with this – any maybe it should be enough to break the spell he was trying to cast here, but he just sits up a little straight and takes a sharp breath through his teeth. “Well. He, uh. He was born in 1475,” he starts. “Just 530 years before you. Nice.” Donnie comments dryly before letting his brother continue. “And, er, he, um. He became an apprentice in 1487–” The tank jolts sideways, leering both turtles to the left before they’re both flailing their arms to steady themselves. Mikey makes a wounded, scared sound, head ducking downwards like he was about to draw himself entirely into his shell before Don can stop him with a hand closed around his forearm. Don’t leave me is what he wants to say, out of sheer fear and worry. But he’s supposed to be the big brother here. He’s supposed to be the braver one. “And how old would he have been then?” Is what he says instead, managing to iron out the wobble to his voice. “Do the math for me.” Mikey gulps, eyes brimming with tears as he starts to work out the numbers on his head and on his fingers. “Um. Twelve?” Is his answer. Donnie nods. “Uh huh. He was twelve.” The tank groans and something outside pops and bursts and Donnie’s hold on his brother grows a little tighter. “Can you remember what art style you were working on at twelve?” And Mikey being just twelve years old wasn’t a great deal of time ago, really. Just before they met Draxum. Just before they unlocked their mystic powers. It makes his gut sink to think of all the things they’d face in that time when Mikey could have just been a normal kid working on his art projects. “I just got into… into spray paints,” he answers him meekly. He’s wormed his arm out of Donnie’s iron grip to slip his hand into his instead, linking their fingers together wordlessly. Donnie nods. “Yup. You did.” The tank moves again and Donnie can’t hear Leo, or Casey and… and–

“What was your big invention at twelve?”

Mikey’s inquisitive voice grounds him, like it always has done, always so curious and wistful as his big, round look up to him. Like a little brother would. “Atom splitting,” Donnie rasps, feeling all the air rush out of his lungs at once and he squeezes his brother's hand tighter. “Made out of toaster scraps and bits of an old Prius.” Mikey laughs, all wet and wobbly. “Uh huh. And did it work?” Donnie shakes his head. “Nope.”   They go back and forth for a bit, reciting what they’d achieved at the ages where the original Michelangelo had succeeded, desperately trying to ignore how the inside of the Turtle Tank was slowly starting to grow smaller and smaller when April’s voice suddenly bursts through the intercom with a boatload of confidence and assurance that had all the nervous energy sitting in Donnie’s chest expelling out with a shaky laugh.

And later when they weren’t currently being crushed, or pulling reckless brothers out of Prison Dimensions, Mikey would find his older brother, link their hands together again and thank him for what he’d done back in the Tank to keep him calm. Little would Mikey know, it went both, equal ways back there.

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 10.

I know I’m not the only one who is desperate to see an “Aziraphale saves Crowley” moment in season 3. Seasons 1 and 2 showed Crowley coming to Aziraphale’s rescue on multiple occasions, so a grand reversal of this for season 3 is one of my very hot desires. I put forth my imagined scenario below:

The ultimate battle between heaven and hell has begun. Aziraphale and Crowley have chosen their side. The side of “Us”. They fight together, completely in sync with one another. Powerful angelic and demonic miracles blast from their hands. They fight in the heavens, their wings outspread, both glittering in the blazing sunlight. Aziraphale once again holds his flaming sword. Crowley turns to him during a rare pause in the battle and admires his angel. “Look at you!” Aziraphale looks over at Crowley, who moves back slightly hovering in the air to admire him further in all his glowing glory. “You’re gorgeous”. Both their smiles are radiant. They know exactly what they are fighting for.

Suddenly Crowley gasps, his body tenses. Aziraphale looks down at first in confusion at the sight of a sharp bloodied point protruding from Crowley’s chest. Icy cold realisation hits him just as the evil grinning face of Michael comes into view from behind Crowley’s shoulder. She pulls the spear from his back, her face triumphant. Crowley’s beautiful golden eyes holds Aziraphale’s gaze for a moment, then roll to the back of his head as his wings go limp, and he plummets from the air.

“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale screams, as he hurls his flaming sword directly at Michael. The sword rotates end over end hitting its mark square in Michael’s chest catching her completely off guard.

Aziraphale not waiting around to witness the result of his throw dives down after Crowley. He gains on the plummeting figure of his love but the demon is falling too fast. Aziraphale chokes back the panic rising in his throat along with the unbidden thoughts that he might be too late. He stretches out his hands, beating his wings faster and harder, willing himself to close the distance and grasp Crowley before it’s too late. To his horror he can see the ocean below fast rising to meet them. Down, down Crowley falls. Aziraphale grits his teeth and stretches out that little bit further. “Almost there, almost there” he thinks to himself.

Too late. Crowley plunges into the water. The impact retracts his wings back into the ethereal plane where they usually reside. As he sinks into the depths Aziraphale enters the water like a torpedo. Thankfully the surface tension of the water has slowed Crowley’s decent measurably and Aziraphale is finally able to catch up to him. But not before he notices the terrifying cluster of air bubbles releasing from Crowley’s mouth. They don’t need to breathe, obviously, but in his weakened state Crowley’s corporation seems to have forgotten this. At last reaching his strong arms firmly around Crowley, Aziraphale miracles them back to the only place of sanctuary and safety he can think of; the bookshop.

Collapsing onto the floor in a shower of spray, Aziraphale gasps Crowley’s name, his hands shooting to cradle his head, then immediately begins to give him mouth to mouth, before realising that isn’t necessary. Chiding himself for his panicked stupidity he instead extends his hands over Crowley’s chest and calling upon his powers as supreme arch angel heels the wound made by the spear, at the same time as drawing the sea water from his lungs. Crowley finally gasps then, with back arching off the ground screams in pain from the angelic healing. As quick as it started however the pain dissipates, and taking deep shuddering breaths Crowley opens his eyes and stares into the concerned face of his rescuer. His angel.

“Hey Angel” he whispers, still breathing heavy. “Um…watch out?”

Aziraphale, with relief flooding through him, pulls Crowley up off the floor into a tight embrace. His wings still out, wraps them protectively around the soaked demon. Choking back tears and a small laugh he playfully replies, “Don’t pretend you did something noble. Neither of us saw Michael coming and you know it”. Crowley hugging Aziraphale back just as tightly mumbles into his shoulder, “Thanks. I guess I owe you one”.

As he breaks their embrace, Aziraphale gently places his hands either side of Crowley’s face, tenderly stroking his cheeks. “You don’t owe me anything dearest, except to promise to stay eternally by my side.”

Crowley, overcome with emotion pulls his angel into a long, spine tingling kiss, bringing out his own wings once more to mingle with Aziraphale’s.

After what feels like an eternity, yet nearly not long enough, Crowley breaks their kiss and presses his forehead to Aziraphale’s sighing, “We should probably get back to the fray”.

“Oh please, five minutes? Can we please just have five minutes?” The deep and desperate longing in Aziraphale’s voice matches the tired ache in Crowley’s own chest, an ache that was there long before a spear ever pierced it.

“Oh course Angel” he whispers back. “Anything you want”.