#elegant restraint

[lovekia]

[masterkeynobi]

form ii......... is sexy, actually,

[kylejsugarman]

i keep getting very vivid splinters (like a few sentences or a particular Image) of a jesse in captivity fic, but i have no reason to write it because theres no plot coming with it, its literally just random scenes from the Experience. like obviously i think A Lot about it, but i dont want to put my guy through all that just for the sake of being like "wow isnt this fucked"

[alexandr-az]

Craft a captivating minimalist masterpiece that unveils the timeless allure of a brunette woman set against the tranquil backdrop of a serene forest. Against the pristine canvas of a white background, the composition intentionally distills itself to essential elements, placing the spotlight on the graceful contours of the female form. Within this visually enchanting artwork, the silhouette of the brunette woman emerges as a symbol of modern minimalism, embodying the essence of simplicity and refined beauty. Soft sunset tones delicately envelop her figure, creating a seamless fusion between the gentle warmth of the hues and the precise lines that define her silhouette. The minimalist ethos extends to a purposeful absence of intricate details, allowing the viewer's imagination to weave its own narrative. The emphasis on clean lines serves to heighten the sophistication of the composition, immersing the observer in a visual language that exudes both elegance and restraint. Engaging in a delicate dance between positive and negative space, the artwork strategically utilizes the latter to elevate the overall composition. The strategic use of empty space imparts a sense of airiness, prompting viewers to appreciate not just the woman's silhouette but also the harmonious equilibrium between form and emptiness. This piece beckons contemplation, unfolding as a serene visual narrative that seamlessly marries simplicity, elegance, and modern aesthetics. Through a meticulous play of negative space and a restrained color palette, the artist captures the viewer's attention, inviting them into a tranquil exploration where beauty resonates in the subtleties of minimalist expression., conceptual art, 3d render, photo

[pin-k-ink]

breaking point // hinata shoyo

tw ⇢ possessive!hinata, groping, obsessive behavior, semi-public fingering, cunnilingus, mating press, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentioned masturbation, rough sex, squirting, fingering

wc ⇢ 4.4k

a/n: not proofread

"And here we have the star of today's match, Hinata Shoyo!"

Your bright voice immediately commanded Hinata's attention, shattering his previous conversation into irrelevance. As his eyes landed on you, he felt the breath still in his lungs.

'Good god, she's beautiful.'

The thought blossomed before he could stop it. You looked so perfectly poised and professional with your microphone raised, camera ready. But all Hinata could focus on was the elegant line of your jaw, the flushed hue across your cheeks, and the way your lips seemed to glisten invitingly.

Swallowing hard, he wrestled to regain his composure as you launched into the standard post-game questions about his performance. Hinata responded automatically while his gaze drifted lower, hungrily taking in the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage exposed by your blouse's neckline.

Get it together! He gave himself a mental shake, panic rising at his inability to tear his eyes away from your body. This was just a damn interview - he'd done hundreds, for god's sake! So why was he reacting like a hormonal teenager catching his first glimpse of undressed skin?

Maybe it was the way your skirt caressed the gentle swell of your hips as you shifted...or the soft, floral scent of your perfume that seemed to wrap around his senses in the most maddening way...

Inhaling deeply, Hinata dragged his wandering focus back to your lovely face, only to feel his attention immediately ensnared by your lips. They looked so incredibly soft and inviting as you spoke, he could barely track the meaning of your questions.

Without realizing it, Hinata found himself slowly drifting closer, drawn to you by some inexplicable gravitational pull. By the time your brows knit in confusion at his distracted responses, he was near enough to see the slight iridescent shimmer of your lip gloss...near enough to catch the lightest whisper of your shampoo's fragrance...

Fuck, get a grip! Hinata cursed inwardly, finally registering the wildly inappropriate hunger blazing through him like a fever. This was meant to be a professional interview, not his own personal peepshow!

And yet, he found himself utterly powerless to pull away from your enticing presence. His gaze flicked down to the gentle swell of your chest again as you inhaled, and he swore he could detect the barest hint of cleavage peeking from beneath the fabric.

"Is...everything alright, Hinata-san?" you asked with a small frown, no doubt perplexed by the dark look of unveiled yearning that had overcome his features.

Hinata's tongue instinctively swiped across his suddenly dry lips as his eyes locked on yours once more. Every fiber of his being screamed to close what little distance remained between your bodies and capture those perfect lips with his own. To satiate this maddening, inexplicable thirst you had instantly awakened within him.

But somehow, some small shred of self-restraint stopped the words from spilling out.

"Perfect," he husked instead, the gravelly timbre of his voice dripping with the undisguised want smoldering in his eyes. "Everything is...perfect."

After that first unsettling interview, you found yourself assigned to cover Hinata with increasing frequency. His star power was rapidly rising, and your segments with him always drew impressive views and engagement.

But each time you sat down with him, the charged tension seemed to ratchet higher.

During one post-game interview, Hinata casually rested his hand over yours on the microphone, his calloused fingers stroking your skin as he leaned in close to answer.

"That last set was a real nail-biter," he murmured, his intense gaze never leaving your face. "I love keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats, never knowing what I'll do next..."

You had to fight down a shiver at the double meaning layered beneath his words. Hinata's eyes sparked with mischief, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

Another time, as you wrapped up a courtside interview, Hinata unexpectedly pulled you into a quick hug. The gesture would look friendly and spontaneous to any onlookers...

But as he drew you against his chest, you felt his hand dip low to squeeze your ass, lightning-quick but unmistakable. Your gasp was muffled against his shoulder before he released you with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks for the great interview," he chirped brightly, as if he hadn't just groped you in front of thousands. "Always a pleasure!"

Then there was the interview after his Sports Illustrated cover was announced. Hinata kept you close as you spoke, his arm slung casually across your shoulders in a gesture that skirted the line of professionalism.

"It's such an honor," he said earnestly. "I couldn't have done it without the support of my biggest fans."

At that, his hand drifted down to toy with the ends of your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers in an unmistakably possessive gesture. To any viewers, it would look like an absent fidget.

But the heat in Hinata's gaze as it locked with yours made it clear - he was staking a subtle claim, right there on live television. You had to fight to keep your composure, even as your skin tingled beneath his touch.

As the months passed, Hinata grew bolder and bolder in his flirtations, always toeing the line while maintaining plausible deniability. Lingering touches, weighted words, heated stares that felt almost tangible in their intensity...

It was a dangerous game you were playing, trapped under the watchful eyes of the cameras. And part of you wondered how far Hinata would push before the tension finally snapped.

After a grueling five-set match, you found yourself waiting outside the locker room to snag a final quote from Hinata. The hallway was deserted, the rest of the press having already dispersed to make their deadlines.

You leaned against the wall, reviewing your notes, when the door suddenly swung open. Hinata emerged, his hair damp from the shower and his gym bag slung over one shoulder. He stopped short when he spotted you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Well, well," he murmured, sauntering closer. "If it isn't my favorite reporter. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You straightened, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped at his proximity. "Just hoping to get a quick quote about that final spike. It was a pretty spectacular finish."

Hinata hummed, stepping fully into your personal space until your back hit the wall. "Is that so?" he mused, bracing a hand beside your head. "And here I thought maybe you just wanted to get me alone."

Your breath caught at the blatant suggestion, your eyes widening. "I...no, that's not-"

"Not what?" Hinata interrupted, his voice dropping to a low rasp. "Not incredibly tempting? Because I've got to say..."

His free hand came up to toy with the press badge dangling from your neck, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin above your collar.

"...the thought of getting you all to myself, away from the cameras? It's been driving me crazy for months."

You swallowed hard, your head swimming with his intoxicating nearness. This close, you could see the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes, could count each individual eyelash framing his heated gaze.

"Hinata-san," you managed weakly, "we can't. I'm supposed to be interviewing you."

His lips quirked up in a wicked grin. "Then interview me," he purred, ducking his head until his mouth hovered a hair's breadth from your own. "Ask me how badly I've wanted to taste your lips. Ask me how many times I've imagined peeling that prim little skirt off you and finding out what you're wearing underneath. Ask me how often I've had to jerk off in the shower, thinking about your mouth on my cock..."

A shaky exhale escaped you, and Hinata's eyes darkened with triumph. He knew he had you cornered, in every sense of the word. His body caged you in, his breath fanning across your parted lips in a maddening caress.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his nose brushing yours in a ghosting almost-touch, "how crazy you make me. How hard it's been to keep my hands to myself every time we're together."

To punctuate his point, his hand released your badge to trail slowly down your arm, calluses catching on your sleek skin and igniting sparks in their wake. Your breathing grew ragged as his fingers skimmed across your hip, circling to the small of your back.

Then he was hauling you flush against him, the hard planes of his body searing into your softer curves. A needy sound caught in your throat at the feel of him, firm and unyielding, against your frame.

"Hinata-san," you gasped, but whatever protest you'd intended died on your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes blazing with raw hunger.

"Tell me you want me," he commanded roughly, his voice gravelly with desire. "Tell me I'm not the only one losing my mind with how badly I need you."

You trembled in his hold, your heart hammering against your ribs as his words seemed to brand themselves into your skin. Every nerve ending felt electrified, raw and oversensitized where his body pressed against your own.

But even as your very soul cried out to give in, to surrender to the magnetic pull of him, your rational mind clung to the tattered shreds of reason.

"Hinata, we...we can't," you managed, your voice thin and thready to your own ears. "This is...it's not right."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the taut skin, but he didn't release you. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively.

"Not right?" he echoed, a humorless laugh escaping him. "God, if you only knew how many nights I've laid awake, fantasizing about all the 'not right' things I want to do to you..."

His head dipped, his nose skimming along the column of your throat in a barely-there touch that had you shivering. You swore you could feel the heat of his lips hovering just above your racing pulse.

"I could take you right here," he rasped against your skin, his breath searing you like a brand. "Against this wall, until you're shaking and begging for me. Would you like that?"

A broken whimper escaped your lips, and you felt them curve in a wicked smile. "Yeah, you would," he purred darkly. "I bet you'd fall apart so sweetly on my cock, squeezing me like a vice as you come..."

Your head thumped back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as his filthy words painted vivid pictures in your mind. It would be so easy to give in, to let him strip you bare and take you apart until you forgot your own name.

But the tattered remnants of your professionalism, already strained to the breaking point, wouldn't allow it.

"I can't," you whispered brokenly, hands fisting in his shirt as if to hold him at bay...or pull him closer, you weren't even sure anymore. "We can't do this, Hinata-san. Not...not like this."

For a long, endless moment, he remained motionless against you. You could practically hear the war raging within him, the primal need to claim you battling against the yoke of propriety.

Then, with a low, frustrated growl, he released you, stepping back just enough to sever the contact between your bodies. The sudden absence of his searing heat left you feeling bereft, unmoored, but you didn't dare reach for him again.

"This isn't over," he bit out, his tone dark with promise as his heated gaze raked over you. "Sooner or later, I'm going to have you. And when I do..."

He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from your ear. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll be mine, completely and utterly. Don't ever doubt that."

With those words searing into your very bones, he grabbed your jaw in a rough grip, capturing your lips in a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming, conquering, and you were powerless to stop the whimper of need that fell from your lips.

Then he was gone. Turning on his heel and stalking away, leaving you weak-kneed and trembling in his wake. As you watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner, one thing crystallized in your mind with startling certainty.

Hinata Shoyo was a man who worked hard to get what he wanted. And god help you, he wanted you.

The studio lights bore down on you as you sat beside Hinata, the camera crew adjusting the final settings before your joint interview. It was a big opportunity, a chance to discuss his recent accomplishments with a major sports network.

But all you could focus on was the heat of Hinata's thigh pressed against your own beneath the news desk.

"Thirty seconds!" the producer called out. You straightened your notes with hands that trembled imperceptibly, hyperaware of Hinata's solid presence mere inches away.

As the crew did their final checks, you felt a feather-light touch against your knee. Your breath hitched, gaze flying to Hinata's face, but he was staring straight ahead with an expression of perfect nonchalance.

Then his hand slid higher, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely suppressed a gasp, your entire body going rigid as he began to trace idle patterns against your flesh.

"Ten seconds!"

Hinata's touch grew bolder, his palm flattening against your thigh as it crept upward at a maddeningly slow pace. When his fingertips brushed the hem of your skirt, toying with the edge in a teasing caress, you thought you might combust on the spot.

"5, 4, 3, 2..."

You pasted on a bright smile as the camera light flashed red, signaling you were live. But even as you launched into your practiced introduction, you could feel Hinata's hand continuing its torturous exploration beneath the desk.

His fingers danced along the edge of your skirt, occasionally dipping just beneath the fabric to graze the lace edge of your panties. Each touch sent sparks of heat crackling through your veins, your focus splintering as you strained to maintain your composure.

Beside you, Hinata answered the questions smoothly, flashing his signature megawatt smile at the camera. But the hand on your thigh never ceased its maddening ministrations, slipping higher and higher until he was tracing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

You clenched your teeth as a shudder tried to rip through you, your hands white-knuckled. God, how were you supposed to concentrate with him touching you like this, live on national television?

But Hinata seemed utterly unaffected, bantering easily with the hosts even as his fingers crept to the apex of your thighs. When he boldly cupped your clothed pussy, barely stifling a groan at the damp heat he found there, you nearly bit through your lip trying to hold back a whimper.

"...wouldn't you agree?" the other host suddenly asked, turning to you with an expectant smile. Your heart lurched into your throat as you scrambled to recall what the question had even been.

"I...yes, absolutely," you managed, hoping your voice didn't sound as strained as it felt. "Hinata has certainly been a driving force behind the team's success this season."

Hinata's fingers pressed harder against your clit, the sudden friction nearly buckling your spine, and you had to disguise your choked gasp as a cough. Somehow, you maintained the semblance of poise, nodding as the host turned his attention back to the ace.

But beneath the table, the fingers between your thighs were a maddening pressure. He traced along the edge of your panties, then dipped below the lace to slide a thick digit along your folds.

"Shit," you breathed, barely above a whisper. You hoped the sound wouldn't pick up on camera.

Hinata smirked at you from the corner of his eye, clearly enjoying watching you come apart at his hand. With an agonizingly slow motion, he circled your entrance, spreading your slick wetness as you struggled not to squirm in your seat.

"Well, I couldn't do it without the support of my fans," Hinata interjected smoothly, shooting you a sly wink. "Especially my biggest fan right here."

You felt your cheeks flood with heat at the blatant innuendo, praying the camera would attribute your blush to the flattery. If only they knew just what Hinata was doing to you beneath the professional veneer...

The interview wrapped up shortly after, much to your relief. You maintained your smile as the hosts signed off, barely suppressing a shudder when Hinata gave your sensitive flesh a final, teasing squeeze before withdrawing his hand.

The second the camera light flicked off, you were shooting to your feet, your breath coming in shallow pants. Hinata rose more slowly, a knowing smirk playing about his lips as his dark eyes dragged over your disheveled form.

Heart pounding, you hurried into the dressing room, desperate to compose yourself after Hinata's bold touches during the interview. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve ending buzzing with barely suppressed need.

You braced your hands against the vanity, trying to slow your breathing. But then the click of the lock sounded behind you, and your pulse jumped into overdrive.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" Hinata's voice was a low, dark rasp that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

You met his gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching at the raw, undisguised hunger burning in his eyes. He stalked towards you with predatory intent, his movements fluid and purposeful.

"Hinata," you managed weakly, your voice thin and thready. "We can't...not here..."

But he was already crowding into your space, his chest pressing against your back as his hands settled on your hips, firm and possessive.

"I can't wait anymore," he rasped, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "I've held back for so long, but god, the way you respond to my touch..." His nose skimmed the column of your throat, making you shudder. "I need to feel you come apart for me."

Your eyes fluttered shut, a broken whimper escaping your lips. Every logical reason you shouldn't allow this, every professional boundary, seemed to evaporate like mist under the searing heat of his desire.

"Please," you whispered, the single word dripping with longing.

Hinata's hands tightened on your hips, a low groan rumbling through his chest. "Fuck, the things you do to me..."

Then his mouth was on your neck, your jaw, claiming each inch of skin with bruising intensity. One hand slid up your body to palm your breast through your blouse, calluses scraping your sensitive nipple and making you arch with a gasp.

"I'm going to take you apart," Hinata bit out against your skin, his voice tight with barely restrained need. "Gonna make you cum so hard you forget everything but my name."

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a moan spilling from your lips. You knew there would be no coming back from this, no way to pretend it never happened. But as Hinata turned you in his arms, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss, you found you didn't care.

All you wanted was him.

Hinata hoisted you onto the vanity, his palms blazing a trail up the bare skin of your thighs as his tongue delved deeper. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to earn a groan of approval, and a wave of dizzying power flooded your senses.

He yanked your panties down your legs with such urgency, you swore you heard the lace tear. But before you could process, his hands were urging your thighs apart and his fingers were slipping through your soaked folds.

"So wet," he groaned, his fingers sinking into your heat and eliciting a sharp cry. "Is this all for me, baby?"

You whimpered a strangled affirmation, grinding desperately against his hand as he curled his fingers inside you. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, struggling to find purchase against the hard planes of muscle as he pumped his digits in a torturous rhythm.

"Shoyo," you whined, the plea falling from your lips without a second thought.

He growled, his eyes flashing dangerously at the use of his first name. His thumb flicked over your clit, drawing a strangled gasp from your throat, and you writhed beneath his touch.

"Say it again," he ordered, his free hand snaking up to fist in your hair and drag your gaze to his. The molten fire of his stare set your very soul alight.

"Please," you begged, no longer caring how wanton and desperate you sounded. "Shoyo, please!"

Hinata's teeth flashed in a wicked grin. Then his fingers were gone, and before you could mourn their absence, his head was dipping between your thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue had your spine bowing, a cry ripping from your throat. His grip on your hips was almost bruising as he feasted on your cunt, his tongue and lips and teeth working you into a frenzy. Your thighs clenched around his head, the heels of your stilettos digging into his broad shoulders. Pleasure crashed over you like waves, threatening to drown you, and still you couldn't get enough.

"Fuck, I could eat this sweet little pussy all day," Hinata groaned, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. "So fucking good."

His tongue speared into your core, and you shattered. The climax tore through you with the force of a freight train, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it.

Your vision whited out, and for a moment, the only thing tethering you to earth was Hinata's hands. His tongue continued to work you through your orgasm, wringing every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking with overstimulation.

When the world finally came back into focus, you blinked blearily down at him. A fresh wave of heat washed through you as you took in the sight of him, lips glistening and pupils blown wide with desire.

"So pretty," he husked, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth in a gesture that should not have been so damn attractive.

But then he was hauling you closer to the edge of the vanity, and suddenly you were acutely aware of the hard length straining against the zipper of his dress pants. Your fingers itched to free him, to feel his bare cock heavy and thick in your hand.

Before you could act on the impulse, Hinata was shoving his pants down, his dick bobbing proudly against his stomach. You felt a fresh wave of wetness flood your core at the sight, anticipation and hunger thrumming in your veins.

"Tell me what you want," he rasped, the head of his cock teasing through your folds. You keened, your hips jerking up as you struggled to find the words.

"You," you managed, the desperation in your voice clear even to your own ears. "Shoyo, please..."

A groan ripped from his chest, the sound so feral, so animalistic, it should have frightened you. But instead, it sparked a fire low in your belly, a primal need to feel him buried deep inside you.

You kicked your heels off right as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide and pinning them back against your chest. He notched the thick head of his cock against your dripping cunt, and then he was plunging into you.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your hands scrambling for purchase against the vanity. God, the stretch was nearly overwhelming, but you were too far gone to care. Your walls clenched around him, your hips rising to meet his frantic thrusts.

"So tight," he bit out, his pace punishing as he pounded into you. "Shit, I'm not gonna last, baby. You feel too fucking good."

A sob fell from your lips, the pleasure bordering on painful as he drilled into you. The vanity slammed into the wall with each rough thrust, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about the racket. Not when you were so close to falling apart, his cock filling you so completely.

One hand left your thigh to rub furiously at your clit, the additional stimulation sending stars bursting behind your eyelids. Your cries grew louder, more urgent, and you distantly registered the possibility of someone overhearing. But the thought was gone as quickly as it appeared, lost in the haze of pleasure.

"Look at me," Hinata demanded, his voice rough with command. Your eyes snapped to his, and you nearly came on the spot at the unbridled hunger blazing in his dark gaze.

"You're mine," he rasped, the hand on your hip moving to squeeze your jaw. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the words a choked sob. "All yours, Shoyo!"

Hinata released your chin, his fingers returning to toy with your clit as he pounded into you. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building in your core until you were sure it would snap.

"Cum for me," he growled, his gaze locked with yours. "Wanna feel you fall apart around my cock."

Then his thumb and forefinger pinched your clit, and you shattered. White-hot pleasure ripped through your body, the shockwave sending aftershocks cascading through your limbs. Your walls clenched around him, the spasms almost violent as you squirted around his length.

"Holy fuck," Hinata groaned, his rhythm faltering as his own climax crested. He managed a handful of wild thrusts, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, coating your walls with his release.

He collapsed forward, bracing his forearms against the vanity. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, both of you gasping for air as you slowly drifted back down from the high.

Despite the fact that the vanity was now sticky with your combined releases, Hinata made no move to extricate himself from you. Instead, he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your flushed skin. His cock was surprisinglystill hard, the weight of him a grounding presence within you.

"Baby," he said after a moment, his lips quirking up in a smile against your collarbone, "think maybe I can convince you to leave work early today?"

A laugh bubbled up your throat, the joyful sound bright in the quiet room. "Why? So we can go home and continue this?"

"Mm, something like that," Hinata hummed, his grin widening. "And then you can help me celebrate my new Sports Illustrated cover by posing for me, naked, while I fuck you against every surface in my apartment."

[theetherealbloom]

YOU'RE THE RISK, I'M GONNA TAKE IT

Summary: You help your boss, Joel Miller, buy flowers for his date. Or so you thought.

Paring: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, Light Angst, Reader Dislikes Roses (i also dislike them :P), Kissing, Cheesy, Crush, Grumpy Single Dad, Office/Workplace Romance, Assistant!Reader, Billionaire!Joel, CEO!Joel, Boss!Joel, She Falls First and He Falls Harder Trope, Grumpy/Sunshine Trope, Idiots-In-Love, Confessions, PWP (wrap it up ya’ll), Fingering, Power Imbalance, Pet Names, ‘Good Girl’, ‘Darlin’,

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: SOOOO WE’VE ALL SEEN THAT PIC RIGHT???? FML, if I ever saw that man carrying flowers and gifting them to me, I would marry him right away. 

This is for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Writing Challenge for May! I was obviously inspired by the picture in the moodboard above and my love for Gracie Abram’s new song Risk! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated, thank you all for reading and supporting my deluluness tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Risk by Gracie Abrams

Main Masterlist

In the elegant floral shop, the scent of fresh blooms enveloped you as you stood beside your boss, Joel Miller, a man of many responsibilities and hidden depths. His piercing gaze fixed on a display of vibrant roses, seeking your opinion on a matter close to his heart - choosing the perfect flowers for a date.

Joel, a handsome billionaire with a company to run, a daughter to care for, and a brother to watch over, often sought your counsel on matters both personal and professional. Whether it was a crucial business decision or selecting a gift for Sarah's upcoming birthday, he valued your input more than he let on.

You studied the roses with a critical eye, your brows furrowing slightly as you considered the implications of his choice. "I think Lauren will love it," you finally offered, your voice tinged with a hint of reservation at the mention of Joel's recent romantic interest.

The name 'Lauren' left a bitter taste in your mouth, a woman who seemed more interested in Joel's wealth and status than in him as a person. You couldn't shake the feeling that she was using him for her own gain, and the thought of Joel falling for her facade made your stomach churn.

Joel's keen observation didn't miss the subtle shift in your demeanor. "Why are you makin' that face?" he questioned, his narrowed eyes fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Your heart raced at being caught off guard, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What face?" you attempted to deflect, but Joel saw through your facade with unnerving accuracy.

"The one you make when you don't like somethin'. You're scrunchin' your nose and everythin'," he pointed out, his gesture leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Caught in his perceptive gaze, you struggled to find the right words, knowing that you couldn't deceive him. There was an unspoken connection between you, a bond that transcended the boundaries of employer and assistant, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and unnerved by his proximity.

Joel's expectant gaze bore into you, his hand resting casually on his hip as he awaited your response, a subtle sign of his contemplation or frustration. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a silent understanding passing between you as you navigated the delicate dance of honesty and restraint in your shared space.

You settled for the truth, pinching your lips as if you were thinking how to phrase the next few words, eventually meeting his brown eyes and saying, "I don't like roses." The words hung in the air, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying.

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. Before he could respond, you cut him off, rambling on in a nervous attempt to clarify your thoughts. "I know, I know, it's just... my preference. It's not that I don't find them pretty... I do. It's just, sometimes it feels like there's no thought into getting someone roses."

You really should shut up, but you couldn't stop, your words tumbling out in a rush. "That's not to say you're not like putting in the effort to get Lauren... roses or something. It's just there's a whole language to flowers and their meaning, and there's definitely more options than just a whole bouquet of roses."

The silence that followed was oppressive, Joel's eyes roaming all over your figure as if taking in every detail. You felt like you were going to vomit, because there was no way you had just told your boss that he wasn't being thoughtful as he was getting the bitch flowers.

"What d'you like then?" Joel's deep voice asked, his tone low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You took a moment to formulate an answer, your heart racing with anticipation.

"Red Peonies," you swallowed, the words feeling like a revelation.

"Why?" Joel asked, his eyes never leaving yours, and you swear he took a small step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing.

"Besides it representing love, it also represents passion, honour and respect," you explained, trying to sound calm despite the turmoil inside. "There's just something more to it, I guess."

The air was tense, Joel's gaze burning into you like a brand. You felt like you were drowning in the depths of his eyes, the silence between you a palpable thing. You knew you should look away, but you couldn't, your gaze locked onto his as if drawn by an unseen force.

The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment of raw emotion. You knew that you had crossed a line, but you couldn't help the way you felt. The truth was out, and now you just had to face the consequences.

The sharp chime of a phone shattered the charged silence between you, pulling you both back to the reality of the moment. You reluctantly pulled out your phone, a sigh escaping your lips as you delivered the news. "Your 3 p.m. meeting with Bill and Frank is coming up. We should buy those roses and go—"

But before you could finish, Joel interjected, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of reluctance. "We can come back for them later."

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his sudden change of heart. Quickly regaining your composure, you slipped back into your assistant mode. "I could have them delivered and—"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," Joel cut you off, his deep Southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine. "Let's go to the damn meeting before Tess starts tellin' me off again."

Without another word, Joel strode towards the waiting car, the driver opening the door as you followed, slipping into the plush leather seat beside him. The tension in the air was palpable, the unspoken emotions between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

As the car pulled away from the curb, you found yourself acutely aware of Joel's presence, his warmth and the subtle scent of his cologne enveloping you. The silence stretched on, neither of you quite sure how to navigate the charged atmosphere that had settled over the two of you.

You stole a glance at Joel, his brow furrowed in thought, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the armrest. You longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had suddenly opened between you, but the weight of your professional relationship held you back.

The drive to the office was a blur, the familiar sights and sounds of the city passing by in a haze as your mind raced with a thousand unspoken thoughts. When the car finally pulled to a stop, you both exited in silence, the weight of the unresolved tension hanging heavy in the air.

As you made your way through the bustling lobby, Joel's hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You couldn't help but wonder if the touch was intentional, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that simmered beneath the surface.

But as you turned to leave, Joel's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Darlin'," he murmured, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "We need to talk."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, unsure of what could possibly be running through Joel's mind. The intensity of his gaze only added to the butterflies in your stomach, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and trepidation at what he might say.

"What is it, Joel?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

He took a step closer to you, his expression serious as he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you couldn't help but lean into it.

"I can't ignore this any longer," Joel began, his voice low and full of raw emotion. "I've been trying to fight it, but I can't deny how I feel about you any longer."

Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke those words, a rush of emotions flooding through you. Could it be possible that Joel felt the same way about you? Or was this all just some cruel joke?

"Joel..." You started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

"No, let me finish," he said firmly. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. And when we spent that night together at the charity event...I knew then that I had feelings for you."

You were speechless, unable to believe what was happening. You had harbored secret feelings for Joel for so long and never thought they would be reciprocated.

"I know there's the whole boss-assistant dynamic between us," Joel continued with a small self-deprecating smile. "But I can't let that hold me back from telling you how I feel."

A mix of emotions swirled inside you, and you couldn't help but feel torn. On one hand, you wanted to give into the feelings that had been building between you and Joel for so long. But on the other hand, the thought of risking your professional relationship and possibly even your job was a daunting prospect.

"Joel, I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to say anything right now," he said softly. "I just needed to tell you how I feel."

Silence fell between you as you both stood there, lost in your own thoughts. You were torn between what your heart wanted and what your head was telling you was logical.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you gathered the courage to speak again. "Joel, I care about you too," you admitted quietly. "But there are so many complications..."

"I know," he said with a sad smile. "But we can figure it out together."

His words filled you with hope and warmth, but at the same time fear also crept in. You knew that pursuing a romantic relationship with Joel would be risky and could potentially cause problems at work.

Before either of you could say more, there was a knock on Joel's office door. Startled out of your reverie, you both turned to see Chelsea peeking her head inside.

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt," she said apologetically. "But, Mr. Miller, we have that meeting with McKenna about the upcoming merger in 10 minutes."

After Chelsea left, Joel turned back to you, a hopeful expression on his face. "Can I see you later? Outside of work, I mean."

Your heart raced at the thought of spending more time with him outside of the office. You knew it was risky and could potentially cause problems, but the thrill of taking a chance with Joel was too enticing to resist.

"I'd like that...a lot," you replied, unable to stop a small smile from forming on your lips.

His face lit up at your response and he took a step closer towards you. "Can I kiss you?" he asked hesitantly.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

Without any hesitation, Joel leaned down and gently pressed his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss at first, but quickly became more passionate as the chemistry between you two intensified. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to pull away. You gazed into each other's eyes, both panting slightly from the intensity of the moment.

"I should go," you said reluctantly.

Joel nodded and gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go. "I'll see you later then? I’ll meet you at your place.”

You smiled and nodded before heading out of his office. As you walked back to your own desk, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and what this could all mean for your future.

Later that evening, as you heard a knock at your door, you couldn't help but feel excited and nervous. You had been thinking about Joel all day and now here he was, standing outside your door with a beautiful bouquet of peonies.

You quickly peeked through the door viewer, confirming that it was indeed Joel standing there. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi Sweetheart," he said with his perfect smile, his dimple making an appearance on the left corner of his cheek.

"Hey," you replied with a bashful smile. "Come in."

Joel stepped inside, holding out the vase of peonies towards you. "I brought these for you," he said, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You took them from him and breathed in their sweet scent. "Oh, Joel, you remembered.”

"Anythin’ for you," Joel said with a small grin.

You couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you for remembering. They're beautiful. Thank you."

He shrugged nonchalantly before turning to take off his shoes. "So what should we do tonight? I can cook us dinner or we could go out somewhere if you prefer."

The idea of Joel cooking for you sounded wonderful, but at the same time, going out together also seemed like an exciting adventure.

"How about we have dinner here tonight and then we can go out tomorrow?" You suggested.

"That sounds perfect," Joel agreed with a smile.

As he prepared dinner in your kitchen, the two of you chatted comfortably about work and other random topics. It felt easy to talk to Joel and be around him, like it was just natural for the two of you to be together.

After enjoying a delicious dinner cooked by Joel (who turned out to be quite the chef), the two of you sat on your couch watching a movie. As the movie played on, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, his eyes intense as they flicked between the screen and your face. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows that danced across his features.

Joel shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours and sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found yourself caught in his gaze. Without a word, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The world around you faded away as Joel's mouth finally met yours in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

You melted into each other, lost in a haze of passion and desire. Clothes were shed in a frenzy of need, skin meeting skin in a symphony of sensation. Joel's touch was electric, sending sparks throughout your body and setting every nerve on fire.

As you lay intertwined on the couch, your breathing heavy and your bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Joel's eyes searched yours intensely.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You couldn't form words as he began trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands explored every inch of your body, worshipping you with his touch.

"I want you," you finally managed to say, arching your back as he grazed his teeth along your collarbone.

With a growl, Joel lifted you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. 

He laid you down on the bed with a hunger in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and dip as if he was mapping out his favorite treasure. You moaned softly as his lips grazed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Joel's kisses grew more urgent, more demanding, igniting a primal need within you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered his name like a prayer. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with a fierce intensity that made your head spin.

He teased and tormented you with his touch, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breath hitched as he plunged into you, filling you completely and setting your senses ablaze.

The rhythm between you grew frantic, fueled by a hunger that could not be satisfied. Every thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body yearning for his touch, craving the sweet release that only he could bring.

He whispered filthy words into your ear, his voice gruff and raw with desire. "You want it," he growled, "You need it." His fingers gripped your hips, guiding you onto his shaft with deliberate precision. You groaned, lost in the ecstasy of his touch, your body begging for more.

He kissed you fiercely, his tongue dueling with yours, their movements synchronized with the wild rhythm of their bodies. His hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explored every inch of your body with a possessive possessiveness.

You moaned, writhing against him, your body trembling with need, your heart pounding in sync with the frantic beat of his, as he plunged deeper into you with each thrust. Your nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks that would later serve as a reminder of this night.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he nuzzled your collarbone, then your chest, and finally your nipples, which hardened under the gentle caress of his tongue. You arched your back, your body craving for more, as his hands cupped your breasts, kneading them with a ferocity that made you gasp.

As he continued to ravage your body, you could feel the heat building between your legs, a fiery ache that begged for relief. Your hips bucked against his, seeking that sweet release, the friction sending spears of pleasure through you. He groaned, his own arousal swelling, and he thrust harder, his hips meshing with yours.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your curves, leaving trails of electricity in their wake. You arched your back, your breasts thrusting forward, begging for his attention. He didn't disappoint, his mouth closing over one taut nipple, teeth gently scraping against the sensitive flesh, while his other hand trailed down your side, slipping between your legs.

Your breath hitched as his fingers found their mark, teasing your swollen folds, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. Your body trembled, desperate for his touch, for him to drown you in sensation. He obliged, his fingers delving deeper, slick with your arousal. 

The roughness of his touch against your sensitive skin became a symphony of pleasure, as he slid in and out, his rhythm perfect, his fingers working in unison with the movements of his hips. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

“Fuck, c’mon darlin, be a good girl, give it to me,” He groaned, as he sensed your impending release and increased the speed of his fingers, sending you over the edge in a wave of pure ecstasy. Your back arched off the bed, your nails digging into his skin as you cried out his name. He followed you over, spilling into you with a guttural moan.

You collapsed onto the bed, spent and breathless, but he wasn't done with you yet. He rolled you onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. You felt him smirk against your back before he slammed into you again, filling you up completely.

His pace was rougher now, more primal as he claimed your body as his own. You met each thrust eagerly, reveling in the raw passion that flowed between you.

He reached around to caress your clit, adding another layer of stimulation to the already mind-blowing experience. Your moans and cries filled the room as he drove you both to new heights of pleasure.

As you were both on the verge of climax once again, he flipped you over onto your back and plunged into you one final time. With one hand gripping your thigh and the other tangled in your hair, he pounded into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

When he finally let go and spilled inside of you for a second time, it was like a dam had burst within both of them. You clung to each other as waves of pleasure washed over you both until eventually subsiding.

You lay there tangled together in a sweaty mess, your limbs intertwined as you both fought to catch your breath. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the sheets clinging to your bodies in a sensual embrace. As the haze lifted from your minds and your heart rates slowly returned to normal, you looked up at him and smiled, your eyes shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

"That was incredible," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate moment.

His lips curved into a satisfied grin, his gaze burning into you with a intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're incredible," he replied, his voice husky with desire, the words caressing your skin like a lover's touch.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The sheets were tangled around the two of you, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling of being intertwined with him, your bodies still connected in an intimate embrace.

A part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension, a nagging voice in the back of your mind warning you that this was uncharted territory. You were jumping headfirst into the deep end, and the risk of drowning was ever-present. But as you gazed into his eyes, the warmth and affection you saw there quelled your fears, replacing them with a sense of exhilaration and anticipation.

"I can't believe this is happening," you murmured, your fingers tracing the contours of his face, as if to reassure yourself that this was real. "I never thought we'd end up here, but I'm so glad we did."

He chuckled, the deep rumble of his laughter sending a shiver of delight through you. "Darlin', you have no idea how long I've been waitin' for this," he confessed, his hand caressing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the passion that had just consumed them.

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mix of joy, trepidation, and a deep, abiding love that threatened to overwhelm you. "I'm scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm also so excited to see where this takes us."

His expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, reassuring kiss. "I'm here, darlin'," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "We'll figure it out, together."

As you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, you knew that no matter the challenges, you would face them side by side. The risk of drowning may have been ever-present, but with him by your side, you were ready to dive in, to explore the depths of this newfound love and see where it would take you.

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Omega Ours - Part 1 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader| Short Series 2.7k

After fighting your way out of every potential mating offered to you, your village sends you off with the High Lord. Rhysand, tired of dealing with the Alphas living in the House of Wind, gifts you to Cassian and Nesta in the hopes that it'll settle all three of you down.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, forced proximity, d/s themes, only one bed (and only one chaise), lots of tropey tropes! No use of YN but liberal use of pet names.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 5 faveourite tropes (Omegaverse, only one bed, forced proximity, sort of insta-love)

Part 2 will be posted on the 13 (Free day!) follow @illyrianlibrary for updates ❤️

Part 2 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

The only way to describe the couple stood before you was - handsome. 

The High Lord and Lady who’d brought you here were beautiful, elegant. But this couple could only be described as handsome, strong, Alpha. 

You knew them, of course. General Cassian of the Nightcourt and his mate, Lady Nesta. Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death, they’d called them in the camps that circled the Illyrian villages like pilot fish on a shark.  

“I’ve brought you a present,” Rhysand drawled, pointing at you. “Well, it’s a favour and a present. The last unmated omega of the season. She's  from the Western Isles, I thought it might help to tamp down your behaviour if you two had a project.” He grinned and you turned to look at Nesta and Cassian again. 

It was true, you’d rejected every mate offered to you, bitten some of them, in your desperation to get away, and that’s how you’d lost your freedom. Fighting the boys from the village was one thing, fighting an Illyrian was another. They’d hauled you into the camp in front of the High Lord on his last visit and demanded compensation. 

Rhysand, ever flush with jewels and gold, had paid them and then had a set of cuffs and leathers made for you. Nightcourt black velvet, red stitching and silver buckles. But restraints were still restraints, no matter how soft they felt against your wrists and ankles. He’d had new clothes made for you as well, traditional sheer panels of matching blood red that hung in gossamer curtains down your legs, pooling around you as you were forced to your knees in front of the Lady and General. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nesta studied her nails, her air bored but her eyes kept flickering towards you. 

“Come now, Nesta, we both know you and Cassian caused quite the stir the last time you were both in heat.” 

You were right then, you could smell it on them anyway, that raw power and strength that designated them as Alpha. 

“Still -  you want us to take care of your problems?” Nesta huffed. 

“Of course not, she’s a gift, for you and Cass, if you happen to tame her enough that she stops mauling my men then that’s a bonus.” 

You looked between them, it was undeniable how attractive they were. Better than the mud caked idiots from the village at least, but you still railed against the hand that dragged you back to your feet. 

Cassian kept his hand under your elbow, pinching your cheeks with his other hand. “Come on, Nes. She’s cute, isn’t she?” He angled your face up towards his mate. 

Nesta shrugged one shoulder and you snarled, snapping at Cassian’s fingers. 

“Feisty,” he gave a deep chuckle, “I like that, that’s how Nes and I got together.” He hauled you over his shoulder, your legs and arms dangling, the panels of your dress slipping dangerously. 

“Put me down!” You beat your fists on his back. 

“Should have thought of that before you tried to bite me,” he teased, jostling you. 

You scowled at Nesta, who followed, laughing, through the halls of the palace and then tried using the only knowledge you had about the Illyrians. You reached out and grabbed his wing, squeezing as tightly as you could. 

He growled back, the sound travelling up through his chest into yours, vibrating your very core. 

“You want to play rough? Good.” 

Cassian shouldered a heavy door open and suddenly the sweeping corridor was gone and a dark, warm room wrapped itself around you. 

The walls were an oxblood red with thick velvet curtains that lay heavily in front of the eternally open windows. The soft jasmine breeze that circulated through the house was mixed with the cleaner scent of mountain air and the crackling of a fire, rich and inviting. 

The general set you down, his gaze travelling slowly down your figure. He clenched his jaw and then instantly turned to his mate, cupping her cheeks in his large hands and kissing her roughly. She growled in response, leaning into his embrace and allowing him to lift her against his body. You watched as he carried her across the room to an open archway, almost hidden behind a large tapestry, and then they vanished again. 

Tentatively, as much as you could with the thin chain connecting your ankles, you crept across the room to the curtain, now brushed back and curling heavily on the polished floor. 

Nesta and Cassian were tangled on the bed, the heady scent of their arousal lay thick in the air, the bedsheets already rumpled as if they’d been interrupted before, the room in disarray. 

On both bedside tables there were stacks of books of various genres, a pitcher of water on one and dagger on the other. 

“Either come in or go,” Nesta groused from the bed, hair messy, one of Cassian’s hands still tangled in the long golden-brown strands. 

“Play nice, Nes.” The general laughed, biting at Nesta’s earlobe. “You can join us or you can sleep,” he said over his shoulder. 

Sure enough there was a small chaise made up with blankets at the end of the bed. You shuffled over, and fell heavily onto the soft cushions listening to the sound of their love making. Each grunt and moan made you press your thighs together harder. Each stifled sigh had your hands twitching, itching for something more. You may have rejected every attempt at a mating, but you weren’t completely without feeling, without desire and needs and lust. 

You lifted your hands to cover your ears, the chain between them digging into the bridge of your nose, and fell into a confused sleep. 

 You awoke to the sound of moving bodies and cloth dragging on the floor. 

“She’s asleep, let her rest, Cas.” 

“What if she’s cold?” The footsteps came closer and you tensed on instinct. The steps stopped, but a gentle weight floated down on you, a large cotton blanket, awash with their scent, settled. 

“I’m going to wash,” Nesta’s voice faded as she walked away but there was no other movement. 

“I know you’re awake.” His voice was loud in your ear, closer than you’d expected and you jumped again, almost sliding from the chaise. Cassian’s arm caught you, tight around your waist and his bareskin was so warm against your own. You cracked one eye open and looked around the room as best you could with his wings blocking out the faint candlelight.

His arm was speckled with tiny scars that twinkled against his tan skin, the hair that decorated his forearm was as dark as the long tendrils that brushed over his shoulders and this close, his chin almost resting on your own arm, he smelt heavenly. That mixture of his own scent and Nesta’s even stronger in his proximity and, no doubt, enhanced by their earlier activities. 

“If you want, you can borrow some clothes.” His voice was a sleepy rumble and you resisted the urge to let your omega instincts take over and push yourself back into his chest, seek out that warmth, that comfort - but you didn’t respond. 

The sound of running water in the other room stopped, replaced with the gentle pad of Nesta’s footsteps and then she was in front of you. Surrounded by them again you had to fight back every urge to give in to her wicked mouth, her lips plump and kiss bitten. 

“We’ve left you some things on the chair, choose what you will. If you want to join us on the bed, you can.” Nesta moved away taking Cassian with her and you assumed from the gentle rustle of sheets they were back in bed. 

The chair that sat opposite their grand fireplace was strewn with clothes, silky looking negligees and billowing linen shirts, some cotton leggings and a pair of woollen socks. 

Waiting a moment, hoping they weren’t looking, you rose from the chaise and rushed for the chair. The translucent dress the High Lord had had you wear left your skin cold and bare, exposed and vulnerable. Cassian’s shirt was a welcome relief, covering your body from view, although the two slits in the back for his wings did feel slightly odd. The socks were warm and fluffy, long enough to reach almost to your knees. Redressed, you turned to return to your chaise and tugged the blanket up to your chin. 

You didn’t really want to spend the entire night there, but you also refused to give in to the ridiculousness of the situation. No one chose your mate, or mates, for you and you’d rather sleep on the tiny chaise that allow anyone to take that choice from you. 

Thankfully, Nesta and Cassian had turned away, the Illyrian’s large wings spread over the bed,. Shielding his mate from view? Or stopping her from following you around the room with her silver stare? You weren’t sure, but you were grateful as you closed your eyes. 

It was only as you were falling asleep that you realised you were snuggled into the shirt, inhaling Cassian’s scent, and by then it was too late, you were tumbling into your dreams. 

The next morning Cassian and Nesta were gone, but someone had left a tray of food, a pot of tea and a stack of books on the table. The doors to the balcony were open and the jasmine wind blew the curtains back so invitingly you couldn’t resist. 

You were halfway through one of the books they’d left, something by Sellyn Drake that had far more smut in it than you were anticipating. A slice of buttered toast was stuck halfway to your mouth as you stared transfixed at the page, when the door opened. Cassian held the door for Nesta, taking a long sword from her hand and placing it on the table that was perpetually strewn with weapons. His own sword and daggers followed and the two of them began to strip out of their leathers. 

There had been a rumour that Nesta trained alongside the Lord of Bloodshed and the Shadowsinger, trained with other women as well, but you hadn’t thought to believe it until now. 

Her leathers were tight against skin, a sheen of sweat making her sparkle, her long hair was tied up in what was now a messy ponytail and, most surprising of all, she was smiling broadly at Cassian. He returned the smile, cupping her cheek and pulling her in for a kiss, his hands wandering down to the buckles and clasps that held her fighting leathers together. 

Cassian looked equally as powerful, his own armour dark against his tanned skin, his tattoos flowing under the leather before appearing again at his collar bone and trailing over his shoulders towards the vast wings at his back. You set the book down slowly, the lust filled scene already had you feeling hot under Cassian’s shirt even before they appeared. 

The movement caught his eye and he turned, taking Nesta with him and pinning her against his chest. They way they looked at you, like the most delicious prey, had you pressing your legs together. You wouldn’t give in to this, especially not when it was exactly what that smug prick of a High Lord wanted. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he cooed, “Would you like to join us?” 

It was Nesta who held her hand out, crooking her finger to coax you forward. “We’re going to bathe, the tub is large enough for three, come.” It was more a demand than a question and, though you longed to see how far down Cassian’s tattoos went and how Nesta would look covered in bubbles, you resisted again. 

With a shake of your head you went back to your book, trying to ignore the sound of them together through the wall. 

You fell into a rhythm, the three of you. Nesta and Cassian continued as they were, training, working in the library and attending meetings, and inviting you to join them whenever they were together. 

Your nights on the chaise were becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but you refused to be worn down by their requests, preferring to stay silent and read alone either on the balcony or by the fire. No amount of reading could drown out the sound of their love making, though. If you could call it that, judging by the bruises both of them sported proudly and the way their headboard banged against the stone wall. 

Despite your protests their allure was difficult to ignore, their playful banter, the care and attention they showed each other, even the way they whispered in bed, dissecting the day's events and, on a few occasions, discussing you. 

This only happened when you were pretending to sleep heavily, breathing slow and steady as you wished for dreams to take you. 

“Nes, did you see the way my shirt fit her today, rolling up her thighs-” Cassian had made a deep, guttural noise, only to be shushed by Nesta. 

“Yes, Cas, stop, she’s right over there.” Nesta hissed in return. 

“I know, God, she’s so fucking close, don’t you think she smells good?” 

“You know I do.” The sheets rustled and you heard Nesta whimper as a wave of arousal flooded you. They could smell you, you knew it and you couldn’t stop it. 

Sleeping in their room, bathed in their scent every day, surrounded by their things, it was like a huge nest and the longer you lingered here the more you wanted to give in and climb into their bed, to be between them and allow them to care for you.

You knew something had changed when you woke up drenched in sweat. As usual, Nesta and Cassian had already left the room, your breakfast arranged in its spot, clothes laid out for you. They’d started adding some new things, items that smelt like neither of them, clean linen and lavender, but you were still drawn to their items the most. Perhaps, it was the way they smiled when they saw you cuddling into one of Cassian’s shirts or standing on the balcony in one of Nesta’s dresses. But you refused to confront that feeling. 

Despite your long, cold, bath you still felt hot and uncomfortable. It was mid way through stripping off your linen trousers that Nesta reappeared. She moved with a preternatural grace that you were sure existed well before her sister’s ascent to High Lady. A smoothness to each turn of her hand, or extension of her arm, she made walking seem like a dance and you were transfixed.  

Nesta stopped as soon as she saw you, her nostrils flared, almost imperceptibly.

“Are you okay?” she asked in that cool, silvery voice. 

“Yes,” your voice felt hoarse. You barely spoke and had gone days without saying anything to either of them, merely existing in their presence. But now, locked by her gaze, there was no escaping. 

“You seem -” she weighed her words carefully, “unwell.” 

“I can assure you, I’m fine.” You took a half step towards the balcony doors, hoping the breeze would cool your skin. 

Nesta hummed, surveying you from head to toe. “I’d feel better if you got into bed.” 

You knew this was as persuasive as Nesta could be, a simple request made in the lowest of tones, an argument not worth having. 

“I-” 

“The bed.” She crossed the room swiftly and turned you towards the large, velvet draped bed that took up a large portion of the room. Since your first entrance into Nesta and Cassian’s suite, you’d done your best to avoid even looking at it. Now there was no escape.

Your hands were shaking, a tingling heat rising from your spine and coiling in your stomach. On this occasion, just once, you’d listen to her. “Fine.” With great difficulty, you pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor. You were so tired. When had you become so tired?

Nesta’s deft fingers grasped your chin, holding you still so she could look at your pupils, large and frightened. “Get in bed and go to sleep,” she insisted, and you obeyed. 

Part 2

[natsaffection]

Mafia's Mistress pt. 1 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x Civilian!YoungerReader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), kinda manipulative Nat, Oral and fingering (r receiving), restraints, begging, edging and normal stuff :v

Word Count: 4,8 K

A/N: First of many parts is here! I want to post about it every Sunday, so if you want to be tagged, let me know and have fun! 🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that you would be sitting in such a large penthouse, with hundreds of security guards around you who only have one order: to keep you safe.

Never would you have thought that you would no longer have to worry about money, or what you would do if you were running low at the end of the month. Never would you have thought that this one person would turn out to be the strongest and most feared woman in the world.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Six Month ago ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

In the heart of the bustling city, where neon lights painted the streets pink and blue, you hurriedly made your way through the crowded sidewalks, your heart pounding with excitement and fear as you clutched your books tightly to your chest.

The rhythmic hum of the city enveloped you, a symphony of car horns, distant chatter, and the occasional street performer's tune. As you rounded a corner, your hasty steps faltered, causing you to collide with a figure cloaked in shadow. A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled back, your books slipping from your grasp and scattering across the sidewalk like fallen leaves.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you looked up, your eyes widening in surprise as you met the piercing gaze of a woman in front of you. She stand tall and imposing, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall, framing a face that exuded an aura of mystery and danger. Your breath caught, a mixture of fear and curiosity swirling inside you like a tempestuous storm.

The woman bore into you with a piercing gaze, studying you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, the tension thickening like syrup as the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

"I-I'm so sorry," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The woman's expression remained invisible as she raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, her gaze still on you. The silence between you stretched, full of unspoken questions and unspoken emotions. “You don’t need to apologize,” her voice was a melodic blend of honey and ice, each word carefully weighed and imbued with a hidden depth that sent a chill down your spine once again. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of emerald green, had an enigmatic glow, as if they could see through your innermost being and unravel the layers of your soul with a single glance.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As you and the woman settled into a cozy corner of the bustling cafe, the scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you in a warm embrace. You couldn’t help but cast coy glances at the woman in front of you.

“So,” Natasha, how she introduced herself began with silky elegance as she took a sip of her coffee, “What made you offer me a coffee as an apology?” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of guilt once again weighing on your heart. "I just felt really bad about bumping into you," you admit, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "And I wanted to make it up to you somehow."

Natasha looked at you with a knowing look, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, you certainly know how to make a first impression," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I have to admit, I was a little surprised by your offer." You couldn't help but feel a wave of relief at Natasha's words, your fear melting away like snow under the warm spring sun.

"I'm glad you accepted," you say, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I was worried you'd find it weird." Natasha giggled softly, which was music to your ears. "Believe me, I've encountered far stranger things in my line of work," she said cryptically, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "But I have to admit, this is a first for me." As you both talked, Natasha's phone buzzed incessantly in her pocket, a constant reminder of the world outside her little bubble.

With practiced ease, she discreetly checked her messages, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the information being relayed to her. You can't help but notice the subtle change in Natasha's demeanor, the way her expression softened ever so slightly as she glanced at her phone.

Before you could think about it any further, Natasha pocketed her phone and turned her attention back to you, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, tell me more about yourself. What do you do when you're not bumping into mysterious strangers on the street?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the question, your fingers tightening around your coffee cup.

"Um, my name is Y/n, I'm a journalist.." When you told her, Natasha's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, her eyes widening with interest. "Journalist?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with curiosity. "That's.. fascinating. Why did you choose this profession?" Your heart skipped a beat at Natasha's genuine interest, a warmth spreading through you as she realized Natasha was genuinely interested in you. "I've always loved telling stories," you explain, your voice growing more confident with each word. "As a journalist, I can shed light on important issues and give a voice to those who need it most."

Natasha leaned closer to you, her eyes shining with admiration. "That's incredibly noble," she said seriously, her words making you tremble with excitement. "I have to admit, I've never met a journalist before. This must be quite an adventure." As they continued to chat, you felt her opening up to Natasha in a way she hadn't with anyone else. Natasha's genuine interest calmed you down and made you feel valued and appreciated.

You gathered up all your courage and decided to ask Natasha's question herself, "What do you do for a living?" Natasha's smile disappeared for a split second, a barely perceptible hint of hesitation crossing her face before she regained her composure. "Oh, I work in marketing," she answered smoothly, her voice betraying none of the uncertainty that lingered in her head.

"That sounds interesting too," you say in a polite tone, trying to hide your lingering curiosity. “What do you like most about it?” Natasha’s smile widened, relief flooding through her as you accepted her answer without further questioning, “I love the creative aspect of it,” Natasha replied, her words flowing effortlessly as she slipped into the role of the confident professional. “Coming up with new ideas and strategies to promote products and services is a challenge, but a rewarding one.”

As the two of you continued your conversation in the cozy corner of the busy cafe, Natasha couldn’t help but notice the genuine warmth and innocence you exuded. Despite the complexity of her own life and the secrets she kept, Natasha found herself drawn to the simplicity and sincerity of your interaction.

It was rare that she let her guard down and had a conversation without the weight of her past weighing on her, but with you, it felt effortless.

As your conversation reached its peak, however, Natasha’s phone buzzed with an urgent message. Her expression remained stoic as she looked at the screen, "Y/n, I'm sorry, but I have to go," Natasha said in an apologetic tone as she quickly packed up her things. "Something came up at work."

Your heart sank at the abrupt change of plans, but you nodded in understanding, hiding your disappointment behind a polite smile. "Of course, I hope everything is okay?"

Natasha smiled reassuringly at you, although there was something unreadable in her eyes. "Everything will be fine," she said with more conviction than you expected.

Before you could even offer to pay for her coffee, Natasha quickly reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

"Let me take care of this, as a thank you for the time," Natasha insisted, her voice firm but gentle as she approached the counter to settle the bill. Despite the haste in her movements, Natasha's demeanor remained calm, her actions swift and purposeful.

You watched in surprise as Natasha paid for both coffees, a small gesture that spoke volumes amidst the chaos of her abrupt departure.

"Thank you," you say quietly as you walk towards the door. Natasha smiled warmly at you, her eyes softening with genuine affection. "It was a pleasure, Y/n," she replied in a soft voice, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

And with that, Natasha disappeared into the busy streets of the city, leaving you standing alone in the entrance of the cafe.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Later this Day ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Dark clouds loomed over you as you moved stealthily through the deserted alleys of the city, your camera at the ready and your senses on high alert. You had received an anonymous tip about illegal dealings taking place in secret, and you were determined to gather evidence for your next story.

As you carefully snapped photos of the desolate surroundings, you didn't notice the figure lurking behind it until it was almost too late. With a startled gasp, you stumbled backwards, your heart racing as you turned to face the unexpected intruder.

To your surprise, Natasha stood before you, a shadowy figure in the dimly lit alley. Your breath caught as you met Natasha's piercing gaze, a feeling of unease settling over you like a thick fog.

"N-Natasha?" you greet carefully, your voice tinged with suspicion as you eye the woman in front of you.

Natasha's expression softened as she looked at you with amusement, a playful glint appearing in her eyes. "Well, what a surprise to see you again," Natasha remarked with a wry smile. "Are you following me by any chance?"

Your suspicion grew at Natasha's light-hearted remark, your head racing with questions about the woman's true intentions. "I could ask you the same," you reply, your tone tinged with skepticism as you watch Natasha's every move.

Natasha's smile vanished for a moment, a hint of uncertainty crossing her face before she regained her composure. "Touché," she replied with a giggle, although there was a hint of tension in her voice. "Maybe we're just two ships passing each other in the night."

As raindrops began to fall from the darkening sky, Natasha's demeanor changed and a mischievous glint came into her eyes. "Looks like it's about to pour," she remarked with a mischievous grin. "Why don't we leave this desolate alley and find somewhere more.. inviting?"

You nod, still stunned that you've met again. As you make your way to a slightly brighter area, you can't shake the feeling that Natasha is looking you up and down and you speak up again,

"So..." you begin, your voice laced with suspicion as you glance sideways at the enigmatic woman next to you. "What were you really doing back there? Looking for your next victim?"

You try to lighten the mood with a mischievous joke, although the tension between you was somehow palpable. Natasha chuckled softly, her eyes flickering with amusement as she considered your joke. "See through it..." she replied ironically, her voice laced with a hint of desire. "But I'm afraid the truth is far less exciting than you might think."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your mind racing to decipher Natasha's cryptic words. "Less exciting?" you repeat, your voice laced with uncertainty. Natasha nodded, her expression carefully neutral as she met your gaze. "Yes," she replied quietly, her mind preoccupied with the image of you in her bed. What?

"You know, I was... hoping to find someone and I seem to have gotten a little carried away and ended up in the right place at the right time." Natasha's excuse and lie took a completely different turn than she had originally intended. But better this way than that.

Your eyes widened as you realized what Natasha had said and your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I understand." Natasha's desire burned even hotter at your reaction, her head racing at the thought of having you all to herself. What is wrong with her?

"How about it?" Your breath caught in your throat as you fought to keep your composure. Your mind was clouded by Natasha's proximity. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean, I shouldn't have... um, whatever." But Natasha's desire burned too fiercely to be ignored, and she couldn't resist the temptation to take what she wanted. "You know what?" she said suddenly, her tone dripping with seduction. "Since you're already here, why don't you come to my place? I could make us something to eat and then we'll see where it takes us, what do you think?" Your eyes widened in surprise at Natasha's unexpected invitation, your heart racing with excitement and concern.

"Oh, I don't know..." you begin, your voice full of uncertainty. But Natasha's desire burned too fiercely to be suppressed, and she couldn't resist the urge to push you further. "We can just eat. Continue our conversation from the coffee shop.” she said now in a gentle tone so as not to push her away

And when you hesitated for a moment and uncertainty flickered in your eyes, Natasha's unwavering gaze and her energetic tone convinced you to take the leap into the unknown. “But you promise me not to kill me in secret, okay?” Natasha rolled her eyes inwardly, your sweet little manner does something to her. “Promise.”

You had imagined her area exactly like that. Natasha seems classy, ​​elegant to you and so does her apartment. Small, simple, modern. Her interior looks exactly like that. She goes into the kitchen, “Are you of legal age yet?” The question threw you off track a little, was that ironic? Did she mean it - “That was a joke... loosening up, you're stiff.” You smile nervously. Maybe it all happened too quickly for you. Natasha puts two wine glasses on the table and brings a bottle of water, "Take what you want," she leans across from you. You sit on the plush sofa and wait for something. Anything.

"You know, I'm not used to getting to know people." You were glad that she finally said something, so you could at least carry on a conversation now, "That's it. You're going to kill me." You answer sarcasm-wise. Natasha grinned again, "What makes you always think that?" You unconsciously bite your lip and scratch the rim of the glass in your hand with your nails. "I don't know...You...Please don't take this negatively, but you look like that sometimes.." As you continue to babble about your own words, Natasha only thinks one thing. That's how it should be.

Natasha laughed softly and put her glass on the table. "Well, maybe I just like to keep the people around me guessing. Am I a killer? Am I just a poor, lonely woman looking for her pleasure in the night? Or something else entirely? It's exciting to reveal who you really are, bit by bit. It's a dance of seduction...and I like to think I'm an artist in that regard."

You felt your pulse quicken and your gaze fell to Natasha's lips. "I wouldn't mind seeing you like this..." You put everything on the line. You want her.

Natasha shifted in her seat, a devilish glint in her eyes. "You say that like you're ready for a private performance," she teased. You met her gaze, the tension in the room running like a wire. "Maybe I am..." you admitted. Natasha's mouth twisted into a slow, knowing smile. With a quick movement, she drank the rest of her wine and raised her eyebrow. "Well, since this seems to be the premiere of a solo exhibition, maybe I should leave the stage and take a bow."

You felt your face turn red. "I-I'd love to," you said, your breath catching. Natasha rose, an aura of seductive confidence surrounding her like a second skin as she walked around the coffee table. You watched, heart pounding, as Natasha stood between your outstretched legs. Slowly, she reached for your water glass and placed it next to her own, her movements deliberate and graceful. "I want your full attention," she murmured, her minty breath blowing against your face.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat as Natasha lowered herself and your lips met in a feverish kiss. You felt Natasha's hands brush against your sides. Natasha chucked, her voice glowing with desire. "You're so nervous." She pulled back, her piercing green eyes meeting yours.

"Let me help you." Natasha's hands began to explore your body, her touch like fire on your skin. Slowly, she unbuttoned your blouse, her lips brushing against your neck with each button she unbuttoned. You arched your back and moaned softly as Natasha's lips touched your bare skin and her tongue found its way to the curve of your breast.

Natasha teased your nipples with her teeth, pulling and sucking until you were squirming in her lap and your fingers were clutching Natasha's red locks. Natasha's hands moved further down and reached for the zipper of your jeans. She pulled it down slowly, her fingers brushing against your inner thigh. You bit your lip and your hips jerked as Natasha's hand entered your panties and found them soaking wet and ready for her touch.

Natasha teased your opening, her fingers circling your clit in slow, deliberate movements that made you squirm with desire. "N-Natasha.." you gasped, your fingers clinging tighter to Natasha's hair. "Don't tease m-me.." Natasha groaned and her fingers continued to dance over your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "You wanted a private showing. I'll give it to you," Natasha purred, her fingers dipping into your wetness. She stroked you slowly and teasingly before sliding two fingers inside you.

You moaned and your head fell back as Natasha's fingers began to move in a steady rhythm. Natasha's thumb circled your clit, increasing the pressure inside you. "O-Oh.." you gasped, your hands grabbing Natasha's shoulders. Natasha grinned as she felt the walls of your pussy clench around her fingers. "You like that?" she taunted in a deep, sensual voice. "You like how I fuck you with my fingers and make you wetter than ever?"

You could only nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Natasha continued to stroke you. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body shaking with pleasure. Natasha's fingers were relentless, driving you higher and higher until you were a writhing mess on her lap. Suddenly Natasha pulled her fingers out, making you gasp in need.

"No, no, no," you whimper, your body begging for more. Natasha giggled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Patience, I'm not done with you yet." She stood up, took your hands and pulled you up with her. Natasha led you to the nearby wall, pressing your back against it as you lowered your head to hide your noises from her. She could feel your hands wandering over her body, Natasha's hips grinding against you, searching for friction.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Y/n?" You nodded, your breath catching as Natasha's teeth grazed your neck. "Yes, please..” you pleaded, your voice hoarse with desire. Natasha's lips curved into a smile against your skin and she reached for the button of her own jeans. With a wave of her hand, they opened, revealing matching lacy underwear that left little to the imagination. You couldn't help but stare, your mouth going dry as Natasha stepped closer, your bodies snuggled close together. "Do you like what you see?" Natasha purred, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Then let me show you more."

Natasha reached out a hand to you, "Excited?" Skeptically, you followed Natasha close on her heels as the red-haired woman led you through her sprawling home. You meandered through the luxurious interior, which was decorated with sleek, modern furniture. Some rooms were light and airy, while others were softly lit with lamps and strategically placed candles.

You reached a room door hidden in a dark, secluded hallway, different from the rest of the house. Your heart raced, and your anticipation grew. This had to be her bedroom.

Natasha turned, looked over her shoulder, and caught your eye. "One thing I want to make sure of. If you feel uncomfortable, we can always go back to the living room, okay?"

Her green eyes shone with dark passion. You swallowed hard and nodded. You were nervous and excited at the same time with the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha smiled, her mouth twisting into a mischievous grin as she opened the door. "Welcome to my playroom," Natasha purred, reaching for a dimmer switch that gently bathed the room in a soft, seductive light.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you. Leather-clad walls were adorned with provocative artwork depicting scenes of bondage and domination. A steel frame loomed menacingly in one corner, and the air was filled with an indefinable, dark eroticism. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Your breath caught as you took in the room, your body tingling with excitement and your stomach fluttering. Natasha stepped forward, her heels clicking imperiously on the stone floor. "What do you think?" You look at everything, let a few things slide through your hands and turn back to her, "I've always read about it...but never thought I'd...you know." Natasha smiled gently, "You don't have to be afraid. I promise you'd enjoy it." The voice was hypnotic, her words weaving a sensual spell. You nod, unable to find your voice as you surrendered to the moment.

Natasha moved closer to you, your bodies touching. Her hand reached out, gently caressing your cheek before moving down to her neck and resting gently on her pulse. "There's something about you. You're curious, exciting and open-minded. I want to show you what I like, what I love and what I desire. I want you to trust me and enjoy every moment. Surrender and I will guide you through an unforgettable experience."

Natasha's voice echoed through the room and you felt a surge of lust and adrenaline building in yours. You nodded again and whispered, "I trust you." With a mischievous grin, Natasha led you to the imposing steel bondage frame. She began to remove your clothing layer by layer, revealing your pale skin and the goosebumps that covered your body. Her fingers gently stroked your trembling body, increasing your anticipation.

You stood there, trembling with desire, as Natasha secured your wrists and ankles to a frame with soft, velvety shackles. Unyielding metal surrounded you, holding you captive, but instead of being afraid, you felt an incredible sense of freedom. Your body was at the mercy of this woman, this mysterious and sensual creature in front of you. Natasha moved around you, admiring you from every angle. "You're breathtaking," she murmured, running her fingertips over your torso.

You gasped at the touch, the warmth of Natasha's hand sending shivers down your spine. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding in your ears. Natasha's eyes locked on yours, and you knew that this woman had completely captivated you. "Do you trust me, Y/n?" Natasha asked in a deep and sensual voice.

"Yes," you whisper, unable to hide the desire etched on your face. Natasha's grin widened. "Good." And with that, she leaned forward, her lips pressed against yours with insatiable hunger. Their mouths moved in sync, exploring each other, their tongues dancing with each other like old lovers reuniting after a long separation. You moaned as Natasha's hand moved between your legs, parting your labia and finding your clit. She stroked it gently, sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body.

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut. Natasha continued to caress and tease you, moving her hand to gently thrust two fingers into your wet heat. Your hips bucked wildly, your body begging for more. Natasha grinned against your lips and thrust harder and faster, her fingertips grazing your G-spot.

You gasped, your whole body shaking as the familiar pressure of an orgasm built inside you. Natasha's lips found your ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't come yet. Not until I give you permission."

You continued to whimper and your eyes fluttered shut. "Please, Natasha," you begged, your voice hoarse and desperate, getting closer and closer to the edge of your climax. "No, not yet..." Natasha growled. "If you can't follow simple instructions, I'll have to punish you. And believe me, you don't want that." Natasha's voice was heavy with desire, her words silky and coated with promises.

Your body trembled, your breath caught as you shook your head. Natasha's hand moved away from your sex, making you tremble with anticipation. She stood behind you, her body pressed against yours from behind, her hands gripping your hips.

"Good girl," Natasha whispered in your ear, her lips brushing your earlobes. She trailed her lips down your neck, biting and sucking gently. "Please…" you begged, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. Natasha's hands moved from your hips, up your torso, tracing the curve of your breast before reaching up to gently grip your neck.

"Not yet," she said again, her voice a low rumble in your ear. Despite the pain between her legs, you breathed deeply and evenly, concentrating on the heady mix of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. Natasha's fingers on your neck sent shivers down your spine, the metal frame in your back a constant, comforting reminder of your vulnerability.

You were hoarse, desperate and full of longing. Natasha's lips curled into a wicked smile, her eyes shining with desire as she slowly sank to her knees. Her hands slid over your trembling thighs, gently pushing them apart and giving her unhindered access.

Your breath caught as Natasha's tongue darted out and circled your aching clitoris in slow, deliberate circles. You shuddered, the mixture of lust and anticipation driving you wild. With each stroke of Natasha's tongue, your hips bucked, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, the buildup of your orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. But Natasha didn't let you come yet.

"Beg for it," she commanded in a firm but hoarse voice. The command made you shudder. You were soaking wet and aching for release, but you held back, enjoying the delicious agony. "Please, Natasha, make me come. I'm begging you!!”

But Natasha was relentless, refusing to let you find your release. Instead, she teased you with slow, gentle flicks of her tongue, occasionally sucking your swollen clit into her mouth. Your toes curled, your fingers clenched into fists as Natasha continued her torture. "F-Fuck, Natasha, I'm so c-close.." you whimper, trying to push your hips against Natasha's mouth.

But Natasha's grip on your thighs tightened, holding you still and prolonging her torment. "Do you deserve to come?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled against your smooth skin. She felt like an agonizing tease on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. "Yes, yes I do.." you gasped, your head spinning with lust and desperation.

Natasha's giggle sent shivers down your spine. With one final agonizing flick of her tongue, she granted you a reprieve, sending you spinning over the edge with devastating precision. “You can let go, Malysh.”

"Yes, fuck YES!" you screamed, arching your back as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over your body. Natasha continued to tease and probe, prolonging every last tremor until you were left breathless and limp in your bonds. You stand there, panting and shaking, enjoying the euphoria coursing through your veins.

Natasha stands up, her eyes dark with desire, and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You know what I mean, Detka? That was just a taste," Natasha murmurs, her lips brushing your earlobes. "I want to give you more, so much more. Will you let me?" You nod exhaustedly, your breath catching with every word Natasha speaks in your ear. You were helpless, tied up and at the mercy of this woman. You couldn't resist the lure of what Natasha was offering you. "Good girl," Natasha praised, her voice heavy with desire.

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[diejager]

New Beginings

Pairing: dark!Krueger & König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, smut, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, mean!Krueger, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Your new body was… odd. Once, you didn’t need substinence, you could live without eating, or drinking, or breathing, but you now needed food, water, sleep and air to continue on. You didn’t understand how humans could live with such restraint, a body so easily broken and weak when all you did was sit and collect dust until you were cleaned by your caretaker. It was difficult to live this way, it was such a stark difference to your usual life. You were a fragile thing, spending most of your days limp and tiredly laying on your nest of blanket and softness in the golden cage Kruegerbought you.

Krueger was a distant relative of your father, he might’ve shared your father’s blood and pride, but he was nothing, if not vastly different from him. Sebastian Krueger was a crude and brash man, voice low and arrogant while he manhandled you with cruel and careless hands, pushing and pulling you around his broad figure. Unlike your thin and artistic father, Krueger was a firm and strong man, skin scarred from past battles, some won and some lost, but it added to his terrifying image as much as his veil did. 

After your rebirth, he moved you to an elegant, golden cage where you would live the rest of your life, completely at his mercy. He knew you would depend on him for nourishment, for relief and for company, locked away in the shadow of his bedroom to stare and admire like someone would do to a dove —you were his dove, an angel who’s wings he clipped to keep. He kept to a strict routine, he woke you up with a rough shake, his calloused fingers sinking into your softer skin to pull you out, whether or not you were used to using and feeling your legs didn’t matter, whatever he said goes. 

He fed you three times a day with snacks spread across the day, stuffing you round with food despite your complaints about not being hungry anymore, unused to having an body that necessitated food to work. Then he’d sit you on his lap as he worked, his hand sliding down your waist to grip your hip, sometimes staying put while he signed papers, and others straying to your thighs, kneading your oversensitive fat until you squirm and whine. 

He mostly kept his hands to himself when he was busy working, his mind cued sharply into finishing his work for the day to lounge and relax, but he liked - insisted on - touching you whenever he could, rucking up the edge of your dress and cupping the uncomfortable heat of your mound, curling his fingers through your slit and thumb your throbbing clit. He seemed to enjoy your high mewls and writhing, back arched forward and grinding your ass into a hard and painful bulge in his pants. 

Often times, you’d end up splayed over his desk, your clothes ripped in half from the top and left hanging under you while he rammed into you, his low grunts and cruel degrading left you in a wet and cock dumb mess of whining and crying. The red and swollen head of his cock battering your cervix, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until he had his fill, the tip spurting hot and heavy ropes of thick cum. When he was done, he sat you on his half-hard cock, the girth still wide enough to plug you without reaching for one, your tear-strained eyes blinking tiredly and head resting against his neck.

That was usually what he did: breakfast, work, fucking you, dinner, fucking you, relaxing, supper, relaxing and fucking you to sleep, rarely diverting from it if he could. Krueger was a creature of routines, familiarity and strict form, thriving off his military training to teach you how to walk and talk, building a rigid structure to teach you. He could be cruel with his words, rough with his hands and perverted with his eyes, but he was… loving in a sense, despite how mean he was, he cared for you and provided for you in your uselessness. 

But unlike Krueger, who was heartlessly taunting to you, his roommate - König - was gentle and careful with you, playing with you as if you were still the porcelain doll you used to be. König was the giant of the two, a tall and broad man who stood twice as tall and twice as big as you, a seemingly monster in his rights. His wide palms petting your mop of hair, thick fingers carding through the bothersome knots and dressing you up for the day. He was a second factor of your routine, if you weren’t with Krueger, you were with him. 

He wasn’t cruel like Krueger, dauntingly stern, yes, but he never degraded you and laughed when you teared up. He was surprisingly tender with you, handling you with a softness that reminded you of your late father, mumbling quietly to you and showering you in affection. König praised you and loved you in his own way, a sickening and possessive obsession, mumbling promises that he would protect you from all the world’s cruelty, but what about his roommate’s ruthlessness? He told you not to worry your pretty, little head about him, Krueger couldn’t be fixed, it was the effect of whatever he lived through in battle.

König might’ve been your favourite between the two for how he isn’t purposefully mean, he didn’t degrade you, he didn’t growl and hiss at you, and he didn’t break his word. But he was still your captor, a man with as much - if not more - needs and wants as Krueger, with how often he pawed at your shorts, pushing them down your thighs to rut his cock between the sweep of your ass, carving a space between your clefs. If he was feeling particularly merciful, he’d stretch you enough, a thick and long finger filling your tight cunt before another pushed in, drowning your pained mewls and pants with his scarred lips. He always made you come once or twice, stuffing three fingers in an effort to fit his monstrous size, his girth and length too much for you. Much to your dismay, he made it fit, it was hot and steely, ploughing through you like you were made to take it, your slick and his abundance of pre making his thrusts smooth and easy.

If he was feeling sadistic, he would spend hours preparing you, holding you against his chest by a firm grip on your throat, your ankles hooked under him as he took his time fingering you. He praised you, his deeper growl wonderfully soft while he pampered you with his unending insistence of wetting his sheets with your musk, for the smell of your cum and sweat to stick to his room. He held you down to thrust his fingers, the palm of his hand rubbing your swollen nub, landing sharp slaps on your wet thighs until you’re sobbing out in overstimulation, writhing and fighting him with every claw and hit. 

Only when you stared blankly ahead, drool rolling down your chin and limbs spasming, does he finally fuck you, bottoming out in a quick snap of his hips and pounding you into his bed. He moved you to his whims, sometimes face down and ass up, other times folded in, your legs swung over his shoulders and back curved almost uncomfortably. You’re lucky you were made flexible, seemingly outworldly with how easily König��and Krueger bent you over every surface of the house and folded you in half to watch their cocks break you in and your cunt gape, oozing their thick and bitter cum.

You hoped you’d get used to the workings of your body soon, your shaking limbs and painful cramps hindering you in your attempts to flee, to spread your wings and escape your golden cage.

“We just wants what’s best for you, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @rae-pottah @cassiecasluciluce

[pedroscowgirl]

Vigilante shit

Hugh jackman × actress!reader

Warnings: minors DNI!!! smut honestly not many things are happening it's just p in v and creampie (wrap it up)

Words: 1.1k

A/n: this is just a quick thing that I wrote and really randomly thought of it as I was watching this dance for the 400th time so this is for my swiftie friends cuz hugh and her are friends and I'm writing this at 4am as we speak

As the host playfully suggested you do the "Vigilante Shit" dance from Taylor Swift's Eras Tour, you agreed with a mischievous smile. You stood up, revealing your stunning outfit: a form-fitting, black leather bodysuit that accentuated every curve, paired with thigh-high stiletto boots. The ensemble was completed with a sheer, shimmering cape that flowed with your movements, adding an air of mystique and undeniable allure.

The music started, and you began to move with confidence, your body swaying in perfect rhythm. Each step and turn was executed with a grace that left the audience spellbound. Your hips rolled sensuously, drawing attention to your every movement. The lights highlighted the sleek lines of your outfit, casting an enticing glow over your form.

Hugh's eyes were glued to you, his usual composed demeanor slipping as he watched in fascination. His gaze roamed over your body, drinking in the sight of you with a mixture of admiration and desire. He shifted in his seat, clearly affected by the sight of you.

When you reached the part of the dance where Taylor famously places her foot on the chair and lowers her hand sensually, you did so with a captivating elegance. As you lifted your leg and placed your stiletto-clad foot on the chair, your eyes locked with Hugh's, sending a shiver of anticipation through him. You leaned forward, lowering your hand slowly, teasingly, your eyes never leaving his. Hugh's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he saw you in a new, more seductive light. He shifted uncomfortably, his pulse quickening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Transitioning into the next part of the routine, you sat on the chair with a slow, deliberate motion. Your movements were fluid and sensual, every detail meticulously executed to draw him further into your spell. As you settled onto the chair, you slightly bounced, your hips moving in a way that was both teasing and provocative.

Hugh's reaction was immediate and intense. His eyes darkened with desire, his lips parting slightly as he imagined the feel of your body moving like that on his lap. He could barely contain his thoughts, his mind racing with fantasies. The intensity of his gaze burned through you, heightening the connection between you two.

Your eyes locked with his again, and the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a charged, intimate moment. His jaw clenched, and his hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, knuckles white with the effort of restraint. The chemistry between you was insane,an electric current that neither of you could ignore.

As the dance came to an end, you rose gracefully, casting one last sexy look in Hugh's direction. The audience erupted into applause, but all you could focus on was the smoldering look in his eyes, promising that this moment was far from over.

The way he saw you bounce on the chair made him wonder how good it would feel on his dick. His mind raced with thoughts of your body moving just like that on him, igniting a fire that was hard to contain.

After the interview wrapped up, you both made your way backstage, the tension between you electrifying the air. Without warning, Hugh grabbed your waist firmly, pulling you close. His eyes burned with intensity as he leaned in and whispered, "I know what you were doing when you gave me that look."

Faking innocence, you blinked up at him, but he saw through the act. His grip tightened slightly, and he brought his lips closer to your ear. "You should do that on my dick," he growled, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

Before you could fully process his words, he captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands exploring your curves through the sleek fabric of your outfit. The desire between you was undeniable, an irresistible force drawing you together

In a blur of passion, he guided you to a nearby couch, his movements urgent yet controlled. You straddled him, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against you. The heat between you was overwhelming as you began to move, your hips undulating in a rhythm that matched the fantasies he'd harbored since watching you on stage.

Hugh's hands roamed your body, guiding your movements with a firm but gentle grip. His fingers traced the curves of your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts through the sleek fabric. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Watching you up there... I couldn't think straight."

Your breath hitched as you felt his hardness against you, the friction sending shivers down your spine. You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Tell me what you want."

He groaned, his hands moving to your waist, urging you to move faster. "I want you to ride me like you did that chair," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you bounce on my cock, just like that."

The intensity in his eyes matched the fire within you, each movement drawing you both deeper into a haze of pleasure. As you rode him, the room filled with the sounds of your shared desire, every gasp and moan echoing the passion ignited by that one dance. You could feel his muscles tensing beneath you, his hands gripping you tighter as he lost himself in the sensation.

"You feel so good," he panted, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking good. Don't stop."

His words spurred you on, driving you to move faster, harder, your bodies moving in perfect sync. Your climax built steadily, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Hugh's eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with raw, unfiltered desire. "Come for me," he commanded, his voice a husky whisper. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

His words sent you spiraling into ecstasy, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He followed soon after, his release triggering a powerful climax that left you both breathless and spent.

In the aftermath, you collapsed against him, your bodies still intertwined. Hugh's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch gentle and tender now. "You were incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the heat of the moment. "I think we make a pretty good team," you replied, your voice soft but sure.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the connection between you felt deeper, more profound. It was more than just a moment of passion; it was the beginning of something extraordinary.

[purpleph4se]

devotion

armand x reader

warnings | smut, afab!reader, dom armand, fingering, praise, possessiveness, one mention of cheating sorta kinda? (we all know louis and armand’s relationship i mean would u call it cheating if it was open idfk)

a/n | 70s armand save me, save me 70s armand. so i finished iwtv in the span of one week and i can say i forgive armand for all his crimes, he’s just a girl <3 there is such a devastating lack of fics for my botticelli angel im here to mend that !!! i know i made that little post a while ago and i finally finished the fic i hope yall enjoy <3 crossposted on my ao3

“show me,”

his voice was a purr loud enough just for you to hear. you sat between his legs, chest pressed against the handsome stranger you met at the bar who managed to lure you into his home. “please yourself for me..” he usually doesn’t play with his food but the sight of your lips hung open, and the sound of your moans, he couldn’t help himself.

mesmerized by his voice, you trail your hand over your clothed sex finding the fabric had been soaked through. you shift to slip them off, a twinge of embarrassment making your face burn. you forced your legs apart, your head lolling back onto armand’s shoulder as your hand glided through your slick cunt.

“just like that, my love, make yourself feel good for me,” he whispered as he traced the curves of your body, stopping right at the dip of your hips. his grip on you was firm, as his lips left warm kisses on your neck. his touch was so precise yet so desperate to feel as much as possible of you.

“pl-please, touch me” you begged between whimpers, your legs were trembling as you could feel pleasure starting to bubble up uncontrollably. it was so overwhelming to feel like he was devouring you with his eyes, and touch. his praises were like fire flowing throughout your body as he consumed every cell of your body.

he hummed at your words, the utter desperation that he could feel seeping out of you made him want to fuck you without restraint, but he denied himself just to torture you.

“just my fingers, nothing more..”armand offered, he felt you tremble in anticipation forcing his hard cock against your lower back. you craved to feel him inside you, and he knew. 

armands breath tickles your ear as he slides two of his fingers over your slit. you squirm a bit as he ghosts just over your clit, his voice mumbling something about you being dripping for him. 

“thank y-you,” whispered again as his fingers slowly traced your skin, until they reached your folds. you were pushed closer to him, so he could effortlessly reach your sopping cunt as he kissed the dip of your shoulder. he could devour you if he chose.

his skin was cold to touch as you laid against him. “so breathtaking” He murmured as his elegant fingers barely touched your clit, your hips buckled to meet him “so sensitive,”

when he finally dipped his finger in you, that’s when his facade cracked. the way your warmth enveloped his finger, swallowing it hungrily and clenching around it, made his breath hitch. if armand concentrated enough he could picture what you would feel around his cock.

your small whine of 'more' causes him to smile against the nape of your neck as he inserts a second finger. he drags them in and out of you, slowly and gently before increasing the power behind them.

his other hand kneaded your chest, he wanted to worship every inch of you. you, kind stranger, distracted him from the boredom that was his life, his partner once again enjoying a young vulnerable boy.

you gasp grabbing onto his forearm feeling your body bounce a little as he did so, he pulled his head back to look down at you— his golden eyes dilating in either love or something sinister, you couldn't tell. "that’s it beloved, taking me so well”, his fingers curling up to search for that particular spot you liked “like you were made for me..” you whined in agreement before letting out a sharp moan, there he thought, abusing that certain spot.

armand pumped his fingers into you relentlessly as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. for just moment he didn’t care about anything but the way you begged him for more, the way you would tremble in his arms as he added another finger, the way you desperately chased your orgasm. he could feel the desire rushing through your veins.

your hands dragged up his body until the settled hooked behind his hand, pulling him closer as you felt a third finger gently split you open. your back arched, your chest hitting his as you felt that coil, that certain feeling in your stomach rise, ready to break.

"'m gonna cum— don't, don't stop, please please." you babbled, to which he listened, telling you to cum that he was right here for you. he pressed his lips against your jaw, the sweet kisses and soft worship a distinct contrast from his onslaught on your poor cunt. and then you heard him, like he was inside your head “cum for me”, armand invited you to let go of everything, to allow the ecstasy to eat you alive, and you did. ‘cumming', you repeated— his name being slurred as you called out to him, eyes shut tightly.

you were hit by everything all at once, your senses blurred as you could barely control your body. armand’s name was the only thing you whine out through the overwhelming pleasure that took over you. he burned the sight into his brain, warm juices coated his hand as he slowed his movements, still overstimulating you just a bit.

you slumped against his chest, your blissed out state warming his abnormally cold one, he didn’t let go of you. you were out of breath, you stayed like that for a moment before he glanced at his fingers.

your pleasure dripped all over his pads, down to his palm, and he couldn’t help but take a taste of you. he took his time savoring each finger like it was ambrosia.

"messy little thing.. let me clean you up."

[cottoncandyswisherz]

we'll see

toxicbabydadd!chris x birthdaygirl!reader

warnings: toxicccccc, rough, unprotected sex (dont be dumb) biting, choking, the word 'then' a million times

-

ITS A REAL BITCHES BIRTHDAYYYY

your house is full and everyone's drunk. except you. 

you have to say sober, because you're breastfeeding your daughter aaliyah. 

but you don't have to be shitfaced to have fun, so when you hear your song come on, you tap your best friends shoulder. 

you've had a routine to freak hoe since high school so she knew what time it was. you move through the routine with no grace. throwing ass is not elegant but it's what you do best. 

"WE ATTTTEEE!" she yells over the music.

"AND DIDDDD!" you shout back. 

"IM NOT DRUNK ENOUGH!" and with that, she's gone. off to make herself another drink, leaving you to go to your room to call the sitter and pump. 

but as soon as you enter, you see chris standing in your room, on his phone. he looks up when he hears me. 

"what the fuck?"

"i just wanted to give you your gift and leave."

"so you went to my bedroom?"

"i saw you dancing with celine. i didn't wanna kill your vibe."

you scoff at this and sit on your bed, bringing out your phone. "you killed my vibe when you fucked someone else while i was 8 months pregnant with your baby."

"aight, bro, chill."

"fuck you."

chris walks around your bed and stops right in front of you. his waist dangerously close your face. he places his hand under your chin, gripping your jaw. 

"watch it, mama."

WOOOOOOOOOSHHHHH just like that. panties ruined.

but tina aint raise no bitch so you stand up, roll your eyes and walk over to your dresser to fix your lashes.

"or what, chris?"

"you know what."

"i really don't" you said bluntly. "you don't get to have the whole 'i'm sorry, please let me cum' thing anymore due to the fact that you're a cheating whore that i no longer love."

hearing that must have pissed him off because he was on you in an instant. his lips on yours, his left hand applying beautiful pressure to your throat, his right hand squeezing your ass.

your head grows fuzzy. its like he has crack on his tongue and is intoxicating you with each stroke of it. 

you don't have time to think of the hurt he caused as he moved from your lips, to your neck, then to your chest. 

then he's on his knees. pushing your dress up your hips and kissing down you waist sucking hickeys onto your thighs. 

"you think that shit's funny?" he growls, biting the meat of your inner thigh. "talking shit to me, after i've been trying to get you back for months?"

this made you laugh. "you'll never get me back chris."

he turned you around so your front was pressed against the wall. his fingers gripped the edges of your panties, guiding them down your legs, biting your ass and smiling when he saw the mark of his teeth in your cheek.

"we'll see."

and then he was standing up, your back to his front, and you felt him on your bare ass, his sweats doing  little to hide the effect you clearly had on him. 

you felt his hands grip your hips and move you from the wall to your dresser, so you could see yourself. 

"i want you to watch." he slid his bottoms down to knees, freeing him of his his restraints. "i want you to watch me ruin you." 

and then he was sliding in you with so much force, you jerked forward, throwing your hand up on the mirror to brace yourself. and in that moment you remembered why you'd let him get you pregnant. 

this man was a fucking beast. 

he was fucking you like it was all he could do to stay alive. hard, fast, and so, so, fucking good. he was so deep, hitting the same spot that made you taste purple. all your senses were out the window yet you felt everything he was doing. you felt his hand digging into your waist, you heard his grunts of pleasure, you saw his eyes trained on where you were joined. 

he looked so.... fuck. 

all you could do was grasp at the edges of your dresser and keen for him.

until you felt him move impossibly faster and his fingers reach under you and draw quick circles on your clit. then all you could do was tremble in his arms and reach behind you to push him away because it was beginning to be too much. 

he used his free hand to pin your arm to your back and use it as an anchor, digging deeper in you so you felt more of him than you thought there could be. 

"oh fuuuck-" you gasped. 

"you don't love me anymore mama?" he forced out. 

"chris- shit! please...." you cried out. "i'm gonna-"

"hold it."

"no! please no." you begged. 

"you wanna cum?"

"yes please, chris" you were a mess at this point. eyes rolling back as you tried to do what he'd asked. you knew that if you came before he'd allowed it, you'd never leave this room. 

"do you love me?"

as much as you wanted to say yes, you refused to let him win so easily. 

"no."

this only pissed him off because he shifted from fast and hard to slow, deep, torturous strokes that made your brain go blank. 

"jesus fucking..."

"you sure?"

"i don't know..."

"i think you do mama." his pace on your clit was the same demonic speed as before, confusing your mind. "all you gotta do is admit it and you can come all all over me. i want you to make a mess for me. i wanna feel you all over m-"

"FINE FUCK!" you cried. "i love you."

"that's my girl."

that's all it took for his pace to restart, pounding into you with ferocity. 

"cum, mama. cum for me." 

and you did. you sucked in a deep breath and slammed your eyes shut as you shook on the dresser. 

all you heard was the blood rushing in you ears as you let go of everything you'd been holding for the past 2 minutes. 

"shit, babe. i'm gonna-"

that snapped you back into reality. you did not want any more kids right now so you gathered all the strength you could and turned around, dropping to your knees and taking him in your mouth.

your head rested on the drawers of the dresser as you felt his load shoot down you throat with a moan that can only be described as godly. and when he pulled out of your mouth he pulled you up to your feet by your throat, kissing you with so much passion, you were ready to go again. 

but then he pulled away and gripped your face so you were looking into his eyes. 

"you'll always belong to me, y/n."

niyah speaks rushed as helllllll but hapy late birthday!!! @55sturn

taglist: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @thisisntmattsturniolo @chaossturns

[yandere-daydreams]

oh daydreams, please bless us with your opinion of what kind of Hybrid the JJK men would be

my takes are hot and controversial. y'all will never know how much self-restraint it took not to pull an 'oops all catboys' and actually give this list a little genome variety.

gojo satoru would be a gyrfalcon. he's an absolutely huge, constantly looming bird of prey with grey-speckled feathers and a wings so long, it only takes one to wrap around you entirely. most hybrids hybrids are at least a little stand-offish, but he's laid across your lap nearly every night, clicking happily while you preen him. if it wasn't for his wings, his piercing eyes, you'd think he was a canine-hybrid - just based on how unwilling he is to ever leave your side.

geto suguru would be a black panther. graceful, elegant, stronger than he has any right to be - ironically, the only things that don't add to his air of mystique are the rounded, twitching ears on top of his head and the sleek, black tail that's almost always brushing against your legs. he's not as clingy as gojo, but if you ask politely, he might let you comb your fingers through his hair (you're dead if you ever try to call it 'petting') as he purrs and kneads at your chest. there's a good chance you'll be left with more than a house-cat's worth of scratches after your informal grooming session, but don't worry, he'll be more than happy do run his rough tongue over your injuries and pretend he doesn't notice that his pointed teeth are just making the damage worse </3

fushiguro toji would be a grizzly bear. his coat is much darker than that of the standard bear hybrid, but once he stands to his full height and throws you over his shoulder with all the effort it would've taken to lift an empty cardboard box, your doubts are miraculously cleared away. he's got hands that can wrap around your head and a jaw that can bite through through steel and he's going to take every possible opportunity to drape himself over you and wonder allowed just how good you'd taste if he ever decided to take a bite. his bark is worse than his bite, though. scratch his adorable ears for a few seconds, and he'll be roughly five-hundred pounds of putty in your hands.

nanami kento would be a spotted jaguar. he'd prefer to be something plainer, like a panther or a cougar, but he wears his spots well. jaguars are largely solitary animals with little need for socialization or companionship, but with enough pestering, he might let you hover around him and fawn over his vibrant coat and extremely kissable pink nose. he's more reserved than most of the other hybrids on this lips, but he'll show his affection through the occasional grooming session and, if you're lucky, the occasional slab of (store bought, thankfully) meat left where he knows you'll find it. he says he prefers to be alone, and yet, he's stilled curled around you every night, purring happily and nuzzling into your neck. he's just a big softie, at heart.

sukuna would be a red fox. it's not enough for him to be a predator - he has to be the one predator known for its intelligence. he's got an ever-present kitsune's smile, his white-tipped tail constantly curling and swaying as he flaunts his strength, and he's got no shame when it comes to unabashedly proclaiming himself your superior while you comb out his thick fur for the nth time that day. he's cockier than gojo (somehow) and obsessed with the idea of proving himself as a mate (without ever admitting he'd want a worthless human as his mate, of course), which means you're going to have a very jealous, very smug fox at your side at all times, no matter how difficult that might make your daily, probably not extremely fox-centric life. try not to hold it against him, he's just trying to impress his future mate <3

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: August

"beautiful" words related to august for your next poem/story

August - marked by majestic dignity or grandeur

Baronial - stately, ample

Celestial - ethereal; eminently pleasing; delightful, heavenly

Colossus - a person or thing of immense size or power

Cosmical - characterized by greatness especially in extent, intensity, or comprehensiveness

Decorous - marked by propriety and good taste; correct

De Rigueur - prescribed or required by fashion, etiquette, or custom; proper

Distingué - distinguished especially in manner or bearing

Exalted - held in high estimation; glorified or praised

Formidable - tending to inspire awe or wonder; impressive

Genteel - elegant or graceful in manner, appearance, or shape

Heroical - exhibiting or marked by courage and daring

Homeric - of epic proportions; heroic

Imperial - of superior or unusual size or excellence

Luxuriance - grandeur; the quality or state of being abundantly and often extravagantly rich and varied; prolific

Magisterial - marked by an overbearingly dignified or assured manner or aspect

Monumental - highly significant; outstanding

Opulent - amply or plentifully provided or fashioned often to the point of ostentation

Palatine - suitable to a palace; magnificent

Pantheon - a group of illustrious or notable persons or things

Redoubtable - illustrious, eminent

Regal - of notable excellence or magnificence; splendid

Resplendent - shining brilliantly and attractive; characterized by a glowing splendor

Splendiferous - extraordinarily or showily impressive

Staid - marked by settled sedateness and often prim self-restraint; sober, grave

Titan - one that is gigantic in size or power; one that stands out for greatness of achievement

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

Writing Notes: August More: Word Lists

[skywalkerslvt]

Need a desperate sub Leon in public setting🙏🏻But please dont make us mean,I cant be mean to my baby but "No baby we're in public!"

a/n: tysm for the request! here's a very short fic i've been working on (it's a little bit rushed and not proofread so i might fix it up later). hope u like it!! <3

CW: 18+ smut, sub leon, teasing, semi public sex, pet names (reader calls leon baby and good boy), handjobs, 1.1k words

Leon Kennedy was always composed, always in control. At least, that's what everyone thought. But right now, at one of his coworker's dinner parties, he was anything but.

The evening had started off normally enough. You and Leon had arrived at the elegant townhouse, greeting his colleagues and their partners with polite smiles. The house was buzzing with conversation and laughter, the sound of clinking glasses and soft music creating a lively atmosphere.

You were both seated at a long dining table, surrounded by the chatter of his coworkers. But beneath the table, hidden from everyone else, your hand was slowly driving Leon to the brink of madness.

It had begun with a casual touch on his knee, a simple gesture that wouldn't raise any suspicion. But then your hand began to wander, tracing patterns on his thigh, inching closer and closer to the bulge straining against his slacks.

Leon tried to focus on the conversation, tried to keep his responses coherent, but it was getting harder with every passing second. He shifted in his seat, his breathing becoming shallow as he felt your fingers brush against him.

"Are you okay, Leon?" you asked innocently, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you pretended to be concerned.

He swallowed hard, nodding. "J-just a little distracted."

You bit back a smile, knowing full well what you were doing to him. Your fingers pressed a bit harder, rubbing him through the fabric, and Leon had to bite his lip to keep from making any noise.

"Are you sure?" you asked, leaning forward slightly, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. "You seem really tense."

Leon managed a weak smile. "Y-yeah, just... trying to keep it together."

You chuckled softly, your fingers giving him a teasing squeeze before leaving his aching cock, returning to tracing teasing circles up and down his thigh.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to compose himself, but it was no use.

He was too far gone, too desperate for your touch. His hand reached under the table, gripping your wrist in a silent plea for mercy. His hand guided yours up higher, where his cock was straining painfully against his pants. “Please,” he whined quietly, “I need it.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered back, "No, baby, we're in public. You can be a good boy and wait for me, can't you?"

Leon shuddered, his grip tightening. "I don't know if I can."

"You will" you said confidently, giving him one last squeeze before finally pulling your hand away. "Because you know I'll make it worth your while."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The promise of relief, of finally being able to let go, gave him the strength to endure the rest of the meal.

But it wasn't easy. Every look, every casual touch, was a reminder of what was waiting for him, just out of reach.

By the time the dinner was over and you made your way to a quiet corner of the house, Leon was practically trembling with need. He followed you silently, his mind focused on only one thing: getting to a place where he could finally let go, where he could give in to the overwhelming desire that had been building up inside him.

As soon as you were alone, his restraint crumbled. He pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate kiss, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that had been held back for far too long.

You smiled against his lips, knowing that you had him exactly where you wanted him. "Good boy," you whispered, your words sending a shiver down his spine, and Leon's eyes darkened with desire, his breath hitching as he prepared to show you just how much he needed you.

His eyes met yours, filled with a desperate need that made your heart race.

"Please," he whispered, his voice shaky. "Please, I need you."

You leaned into his neck, biting and sucking marks at his pulse point as your hand slid down his stomach, teasingly close to where he ached the most. You could feel his heart pounding, his breath quickening in anticipation as he let out a soft whimper.

You pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth before reminding him to keep quiet.

Leon whimpered, but he nodded again, his body trembling with the effort to remain still. You rewarded him with a soft kiss, your lips barely brushing his as your hand finally reached the waistband of his pants.

Your hand slipped inside his pants to wrap around his throbbing cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. "Just focus on me, Leon. I'll take care of you."

You stroked him slowly, your thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smearing the pre-cum that had gathered there. Leon's hips bucked involuntarily, a strangled moan escaping his lips before he could stop it. You tightened your grip slightly, reminding him to stay quiet.

"Shh," you soothed, kissing him deeply to muffle any further sounds. He kissed you back with a desperation that only fueled your desire, his hands gripping your hips as if to ground himself.

Your pace quickened, your hand moving faster over his length as his breathing became more erratic. You could feel him getting close, his body tensing as he struggled to hold back.

"That's it," you whispered against his lips. "Let go for me, Leon. Be a good boy and cum."

With a muffled cry, Leon obeyed, his body shaking as he came hard into your hand. You continued to stroke him through his orgasm, your other hand gently caressing his face as tears of relief and pleasure spilled from his eyes.

"Good boy," you murmured, kissing away his tears. "You did so well."

Leon slumped against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he basked in the afterglow. You held him close, your heart swelling with affection for the man in your arms.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. "I love you."

"I love you too, Leon," you replied, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Now, let's get back to the party before anyone notices we're gone."

He nodded, reluctantly pulling away to adjust his clothes. You did the same, both of you sharing a secret smile as you stepped out of the closet, ready to face Leon's coworkers once more.