#in a game every choice is revelant!

[archesa]

Forever Tree

So, Anwen and Meryw were doing some events in Echovald earlier, and I noticed something, so... I have a theory.

Because the Forever Tree, in its design seems terribly familiar.

Just... terribly familiar...

(featuring my Anwen and @lilypixy​ ‘s Meryw!)

[incognit0slut]

A SPECIAL SHOW

Part 3 of kinktober | main masterlist

virgin!spencer x fem!reader; Lingerie, Exhibitionist/voyeur, overstimulation, squirting

No one would’ve guessed you liked to touch yourself in front of billions of people online, except for your roommate, who you thought would be a great addition to your next late-night session.

Words: 6,213

a/n: my kinktober is running late. Oopsss

THERE WAS SOMETHING EXHILARATING ABOUT BEING WATCHED. You reveled in the sensation of being the center of attention. You weren't sure how it started, nor when it started, all you knew was that every Friday night you were always seated—or sometimes laid—in front of your computer. Webcam on, chatroom on, and most importantly, your alter ego was on.

Princess_Pink is online.

It wasn't the most creative name, but it was your initial thought when you made your account. You had always taken a certain liking for the color pink. As for princess... well, there was nothing else to it, you just liked being called that.

Princess.no1.fan: i've been waiting for you!! Adam_4432: hey princess Keaton-bigdick: ready to jerk off to you baby Hardcock69: turn on your cam!

If you told your younger self that you'd be touching yourself in front of horny strangers online, you would've scoffed in disgust. Your past innocent self would definitely look down on your choices, which honestly, something you once had questioned too at one point. But the amount of money increasing in your bank account always stops you from doubting yourself.

It was partly the reason why you were still doing this. Your nine-to-five job wasn't going to cut out the expenses you needed, providing yourself in other ways was the only option. The reason was, yes, you needed the money, that was true. But deep down you were aware of how much you actually enjoyed doing this. If you once thought that these men watching you were disgusting, horny people, then maybe you were just as disgusting as they were.

And somehow you were okay with that.

Horny_BBC: turn your fucking cam on you slut JadenCums: don't talk to her like that JadenCums: she's not going to give us anything if we don't behave Princess.no1.fan: princess pretty please show us your sexy body

You turned your camera on. There it was, your reflection on the screen. Your baby pink lingerie, a silky second skin, clung to every curve, accentuating the elegant contours of your body with its deep neckline plunging gracefully. Your hair cascaded in loose waves, catching the soft lights in your bedroom, and illuminating your smooth skin. A coy, knowing smile played on your lips, revealing a self-assured confidence that was impossible to ignore.

"Hello, boys," you greeted, your voice deep and sultry. "Did you miss me?"

A chorus of replies filled the chatroom and you smiled. You loved the attention they gave you. It was something you never gained in your normal, mundane daily life, and you actually didn't mind it. You liked being the invisible quiet girl sitting at her own desk, minding her own business. But now you were exactly the opposite of that girl and you thrived on the desires that lingered in those who watched you.

But there was still some privacy that you needed to keep because honestly, you didn't want your coworker to know this secret life of yours. You used to wear a fancy mask that looked like it came out from a masquerade ball, but with how technology has developed, you now opted to use a filter that animated your features. It was perfect.

"I had a very rough week," you continued, playing with your hair. "But now that everyone is here..." You leaned forward, showing the soft curves of your cleavage. "...I feel so much better."

Adam_4432: fucking hot Keaton-bigdick: love the dress Keaton-bigdick: love it better on the floor

You giggled. "Patience, boys. You know how this goes. We play a little game along the way." You ran a hand through your hair. "So what game do you think we should play?"

Your eyes traveled along the comments. "Twister? How are we supposed to play that? Oh—Strip poker? That does sound good—wait! Yes! We should do a classic." A smile curled on your lips. "Truth or dare."

Fatcock_777: ok truth or dare princess?

You rolled your eyes. "Truth, duh. We're starting this slow."

You scanned through the comments and picked a question that seemed easy for you to answer.

Pussylicker: have you ever masturbated in public

"I have masturbated in public," you responded, biting your bottom lip teasingly as you looked straight into the camera. "I once touched myself at work because... well, I was desperate. Locked myself inside the bathroom and fucked myself with my fingers, it was so hard keeping quiet."

You then laughed at yourself. "Alright, next question. I'm still choosing truth, by the way."

JadenCums: will you ever bring a guest here? JadenCums: would love to see you getting fucked

This time you wiped your tongue along your lip. The mere thought of having someone else please you who was not yourself, right in front of these strangers online, aroused you in a way you never thought possible. You clenched your thighs together as you imagined yourself in front of the camera while somebody else was here to touch you, to tease you—to fuck you.

"Bringing somebody else here? Sounds amazing, to be honest," you answered. "But you see, I don't think I know anyone willing to do what I do—"

Bang! Clink. Clink.

You stopped yourself and frowned. A sudden sound vibrated through your room, a jarring clash of clanging and clattering emanated from what seemed to be the kitchen. Your eyes darted toward the noise, curiosity, and concern merging on your face as you attempted to discern its source.

Another clatter followed through, louder than before.

"Wait a minute, boys," you mindlessly said to your audience, your eyes still narrowing on your bedroom door. "I'll be right back."

You quickly turned off your camera and muted your microphone, ignoring the protests thrown in the chat, and rose from your bed. With measured steps, you left the sanctity of your room and ventured into the adjacent kitchen. Your steps halted right at the moment you found your roommate stooping down to retrieve a fallen pan. The metallic clang resonated briefly, then subsided, replaced by the soft rustling of clothes and the muted glow of ambient lighting.

"Spencer?" You called out softly, your voice carrying a note of concern.

He straightened up, holding the pan in his hand. His response was apologetic, a musing note in his voice, "Sorry if I woke you. I couldn't sleep, and I thought drinking something warm could help me relax."

Your eyes wandered to the carton of milk that sat on the counter. "So you decided to make warm milk?"

"Apparently we ran out of tea..."

His voice trailed off as he looked up from the fallen pan, and as he met your gaze, time seemed to slow. His apology hung in the air, a mere whisper, as his eyes found your figure in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. The lingerie you wore, delicate and pretty, cast your curves in a subtle, alluring way.

There was one word to describe your roommate. Cute. He was really cute. If he wasn't so oblivious to your little, innocent crush, you'd already be worshiping the ground he walked on. Maybe you should've told him how you found his habit of dumping facts endearing, but then again, you felt as if he had been avoiding you ever since he found out about your late-night rendezvous with your computer.

Keeping it a secret from your friends, family, and colleagues was easy, you didn't see them often. But keeping it a secret from Spencer, your roommate who you see every day, who bluntly asked why you were whining every Friday night at the exact same time, was hard.

Surprisingly, you thought you'd be appalled by telling him the truth, but something about him made you spill out what you had been doing behind your bedroom door. He seemed like the type of person who never judged, and he obviously didn't when you told him you were doing it for the money. But even though he accepted your secret without pressing any further, you realized, he had been avoiding you ever since.

For a heartbeat, silence enveloped the room, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator. Then he finally tore his gaze away, clearing his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "It's Friday, huh?"

You stepped closer, your bare feet making a soft padding sound on the kitchen floor. "Yeah."

"Well, uh, you can go back to what you were doing. Don't mind me."

You couldn't help but study him with a sense of quiet fascination. There was something utterly captivating about the way he appeared in this unguarded moment, and you couldn't resist your curiosity as you observed his relaxed, almost nonchalant demeanor.

Your eyes trailed over him. The lower half of his body was swathed in loose-fitting pajama pants, their fabric patterned with a subdued design. The shirt he wore was equally unpretentious, and its well-worn, soft texture cradled his upper body loosely. His hair seized your attention next. It was disheveled and slightly tousled, its tips barely touching his shoulders.

Yet, it was his hands that captivated you the most. His hands were notably broad, his fingers long and deft. The veins that traced along the back of his hands were what had you staring further, and as you caught the way they flexed whenever he moved between the narrowed space, you wondered what it would feel like to have them on you.

And now the question from earlier kept on repeating in your head. Will you ever bring a guest here? If you had to choose someone else to please you, your answer would definitely be him.

"Hey, Spence?" He looked at you, and under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, your nerves tightened their grip on you. You quickly shook your head. "Never mind."

"No—wait. What is it?"

"It's nothing, just forget it."

He took a step forward, closing the gap between you. "Tell me what you were about to say."

It was now or never, at least, that was what you kept convincing yourself. You then braced for the question that had been lingering on the tip of your tongue. "How do you feel about joining me?"

You noticed the frown forming on his face. "Joining you?"

"Yes, for my stream." The baffled look he gave you made you explain yourself further. "You don't have to be naked! And if you must know, I use this cute filter to hide my face in a way, but if you don't like that, you can be completely anonymous. I'll make sure your face is out of the frame."

You wanted to kick yourself. The silence that came after your proposition was gnawing at you, almost as if it was mocking your brassness. This was Spencer Reid, the hot-shot FBI agent you lived with who had been avoiding you for the exact reason, and you were now inviting him to join you? What on earth were you thinking?

"See? This is stupid. Forget I said anything—"

"What do I have to do? If... if I don't have to be naked."

You blinked, caught by surprise for a moment, and then your lips curved into a coy smile. He was interested.

"You can play with me."

You took a step forward.

"Touch me."

You took satisfaction in the way his eyes lowered down your body.

"Please me." Your eyes bore into him, liking the way they turned a shade darker as he kept staring at your cleavage. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be able to sleep after this."

His eyes swept along the expansion of your neck before they met your gaze. "Just... touch you? That's it?"

"That's it," you confirmed. You wanted to ease the tension, so you joked  with a playful grin, "I'll split the money with you from this stream."

Spencer softly chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "No, keep it. People pay to watch you, not me."

"So is that a yes?"

He exhaled a deep breath. "...yeah?"

It was really happening. Before he could regret his decision, you quickly reached for his hand and guided him to your room. He followed you quietly, and when you pulled him in, his eyes swept across your personal space, taking in the predominant color palette of pink that seemed to envelop the space with a cozy, feminine charm.

The heart of your room was undoubtedly your computer setup, strategically placed directly in front of your bed. There was a small camera perched on top of the screen and a professional mic placed to the side, and to be completely honest, the sight of everything was starting to intimidate him.

"I need to tell you something," he softly began. "This is my first time doing this."

You gently squeezed his hand. "I'd be surprised if you've ever done this before. You're not even on social media."

"No, I mean—" He turned you around to face him. "I've never touched someone... intimately."

"Really?" Your eyes shot up as you noticed the way he emphasized the word. "Wait, Spencer... are you a virgin?"

There was a pause as he searched your eyes hesitantly. "Does it make me weird if I told you I am?"

Somehow that didn't surprise you, since you never actually saw him taking an interest in relationships, so your response was swift. "No. You're always weird regardless," you quipped, dissipating the tension with a teasing grin. "I'm kidding."

He smiled, although his question still lingered in the air, and he shifted the focus back to you again. "Do you still want me here?"

"I should be asking you that question, silly. Are you fine with all this?"

To your surprise, his response was affirmative. "Surprisingly, yes, I am."

"Then there's nothing to worry about."

He still looked nervous though, and without putting much thought into it, you closed the distance and stood on your tiptoes. Your hands softly held his jaw, and the moment you pressed your lips onto his, a sound of satisfaction erupted from his chest.

You sighed in contentment as you felt his hands sliding around your waist, holding you closer as you moved your lips against his. The kiss was slow and lazy, yet the sensation of it traveled along your body, leaving you almost breathless as you felt his tongue teasing your entrance. A moan slipped out of you as you buried your hands in his hair, tugging onto the strands desperately as your tongues collided with one another in a delicate trance.

Your lips on his were hot, soft, settling, and wet, pulling onto each other for more and when you finally stopped, his eyes were closed, heavily exhaling, his hair ruffled, and he looked like the prettiest mess ever.

"W- What was that for?" He whispered, still in his dazed state.

"Setting the mood." You slowly pulled away and walked over to your bed, sitting at the edge of it, positioning yourself back in front of your computer. "For someone who has never had sex, you sure know how to kiss."

He collected himself and looked at you as if you had offended him. "I've kissed other people before."

"I can tell." You then narrowed your eyes at him. "Alright, you ready?"

"I..." He took a tentative step forward. "I think so."

With practiced efficiency, you started up the stream again. The moment you turned on your microphone and camera, almost immediately, comments began flooding in. The chat scrolled rapidly. You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicked to the monitor.

"Hey, everyone, sorry for leaving you so suddenly. But I guess this is your lucky day... because I have someone joining me tonight!" A chorus of excited responses flooded the chatroom and you giggled at the enthusiasm they were giving you. "Oh my, didn't know you guys really wanted a guest over here."

Pussylicker: fuck yeah Princess.no1.fan: don't know if I should be excited or jealous Adam_4432: gonna fuck my cock watching you Fatcock_777 sent a $100 gift

Easy money, you thought to yourself, and by the way Spencer's eyes went wide, he also caught the amount of money sent to you when you were barely doing anything. "They give you that much for saying that?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his innocence. "Spe—" You stopped as his name almost slipped out your mouth. You cleared your throat and quickly corrected yourself. "Babe, they can hear you."

The pale complexion of his skin accentuated the subtle blush that tinged his cheeks, a result of either your affectionate tone or his embarrassment over his unfamiliarity with the situation. "Oh." He stared at your computer screen with uncertainty, his gaze filled with hesitation. "Right."

You urged him to come closer with your hand. "Come here, pretty boy."

He cast a fleeting glance in your direction, prompting an eye-roll as you observed his clumsy approach towards you. You eyed the camera and addressed your audience, "He's a little shy, please be nice to him."

As soon as he entered the camera frame, the comments section buzzed with curiosity. Many viewers wondered about the identity of this mysterious man, who happened to appear just as someone questioned a potential guest on the stream. Most of the other comments were positive, stating how excited they were, but a few of them disturbed you when they mentioned Spencer's physical appearance and how 'this fucking twig' didn't deserve to touch you.

You quickly guided your mouse to block them.

"I told you to be nice," you emphasized, your voice carrying a subtle edge. "I don't tolerate any form of harassment."

Spencer, seemingly oblivious, frowned at you. "What did you do?"

"Kicking disrespectful people out," you answered for him. Then, directing your attention towards him, you rose from your bed and gestured to the empty space. "Sit here."

He followed your instructions, settling onto the soft mattress as you adjusted your camera at a lower angle, making sure his face remained hidden from view. When you were satisfied, you instructed him to scoot back, which he happily obliged, because how couldn't he? He was captivated by what was happening.

Spencer never thought he would have his lower half on display—albeit still fully clothed—in front of thousands of people online. Yet here he was, sitting right in front of a camera, watching you as you slipped your knee between his thighs, urging him to part his legs. Nervous energy pulsed through him as he found himself in such close proximity to you, especially when you started to kneel right between him, clutching his shoulders as you steadied yourself.

"Someone dared me to show my cute panties," you mused, and even when you were addressing yourself to the stream, your eyes were locked with his. "Help me show them, babe."

His heart quickened as he looked up at you. "W-what do I do?"

You smiled at him and leaned down, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear, making sure he was the only one to hear you as you whispered, "Play with my ass, Spencer."

His breathing became shallow and erratic. He slowly reached out and put his wide hands on your hips before sliding them along your ass cheeks. He gently kneaded them, squeezing them with the utmost delicacy as if he was holding himself back.

Spencer had always been a gentle person, it was a fundamental aspect of his character, something he had known from the depths of his being. You liked that about him, it differentiated him from all the men you had ever been with. But right now you needed him to touch you with the same urgency you craved. You needed him to let go.

"You can do better than that, pretty boy," you pressed on, brushing your lips along his jawline. "Show the audience what they want."

Something in him switched at that moment. Maybe it was the way you were kissing down his neck. Or maybe it was the way you were pressed against him. Whatever it was, he suddenly felt less inclined to be gentle and, instead, he gripped onto your cheeks with more power. He squeezed them, holding your flesh with so much vigor that you had to hold onto him, burying your face in his neck.

He glanced past your shoulder and caught your reflection. He couldn't believe those were his hands on the screen; touching you, teasing you, pleasing you. You were definitely pleased with the way you kept on squirming against him. It mesmerized him how much you were responding to his simple touch, and now when he knew he could make you sigh in pleasure, he wondered how much more you could react the more he touched you.

Spencer pressed his hands at the back of your thighs before trailing them up your legs. He paused for a moment, hearing the way your breath quickened with anticipation, and smiled to himself when you let out a whimper as he squeezed your flesh again. The hem of your lingerie rode up your hips every time he moved, and your laced panties, with their fabric barely covering your already wet sex, were on display for the audience to see.

Hardcock69 sent you a $100 gift

He cocked an eyebrow, fascinated by how showing a little skin could earn you money. Curiosity took over him, and he let his fingers trail between your flesh before spreading them apart, showing off your wet patch to the camera. You arched your back, pressing your lips into his neck again as your arousal shot through your veins before it pooled right in your center.

Princess.no1.fan sent you a $100 gift

Interesting, Spencer thought, and slipped his fingers between the soft material of your panties before sliding it to the side, exposing your wet skin. His eyes shot up when someone gifted you another hundred dollars, and without much thinking, he brushed the pad of his fingers along your folds, loving the way you whined out a desperate moan right into his ear.

"You're doing great, baby," you told him breathlessly. Hearing your encouragement only made him want to please you even more. He let his middle finger glide along your dripping pussy, mesmerized at how wet you were, and braved himself as he slowly pushed his finger inside you.

He couldn't stop the sound of pleasure erupting from his chest when you squeezed around him. You were so wet, so warm, so incredibly tight. He thrust his finger in and out of you and you mewled, arching your back, grinding your hips toward his touch. And just as you were about to relish the sensation, he abruptly pulled his finger out of you and held you by the hips, gently pushing you off of him.

"Somebody dared you to turn around," he said, licking his lips as his eyes trailed along the front of your body, stopping right at your cleavage.

You smiled, amused that he was actually reading along the comments while touching you. Without saying a word, you got off the bed, your back still facing the camera. Your hands gently slid up your lingerie and you tugged on your panties down your legs, not forgetting to arch your back while doing so, making sure the camera captured the soft curves of your ass.

Spencer watched you intently. He watched the way your body swayed from each movement, appraising the swell of your breasts and the way your nipples pressed against the thin material of your lingerie, slightly teasing him behind the see-through lace. His eyes skimmed along your neck, stopping at your face, taking in the way you were looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

You were so beautiful. His fingers moved almost of their own accord, reaching out as if guided by some unseen force, wanting to touch you further. He rested a hand on your hip while his other hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you closer as he slightly reached out, meeting you halfway in a soft, enchanting kiss.

You melted right into him. His unexpected kiss threw you off as you weren't prepared for how passionate he was exploring your mouth; nipping your bottom lip, softly sucking the flesh as he pushed his tongue into you. He was kissing you as if he couldn't get enough of you, as if the first time he tasted you ignited the passion within him, forcing yourself to surrender to his touch.

As much as you wanted it to last, you pulled away, pressing your forehead against his, completely breathless as if the sheer magnitude of his kiss had stolen the very air from your lungs. "We should... we should keep the show going."

Your words reminded him that you were still being watched. "...Right."

Finally pulling away from him, you turned around and faced your monitor, reading along the comments on the screen. Although the camera didn't capture your kiss, the intimate atmosphere was unmistakable, and many of your followers began speculating about the identity of this mysterious man. They raised questions, even going so far as to wonder if he was your boyfriend.

How you wished that was true.

You shook your head and focused on the other comments, picking up the ones where they were throwing you some dares. One of them insisted for you to spread your legs in front of the camera which was honestly something you plan to do anyway.

So you sat between his legs, pressing your backside against his crotch, and stifled a moan when you felt his cock pressing into you. You could tell how hard he was, how aroused he seemed just by touching you. It was undeniably satisfying to be the one who had evoked such a response from him.

You leaned on his chest, placing your head right in the crook of his neck, and slowly spread your legs apart, finally exposing your flesh. Spencer could feel his slacks tightening, feeling himself going hard at the sight of you. The soft, ambient light in the room played a delicate dance upon your wet skin, accentuating its flawless smoothness. He also realized he wasn't the only one mesmerized by you, the chatroom also seemed to be buzzing with excitement.

Horny_BBC: sweet fucking pussy Horny_BBC: dripping wet JadenCums: holy shit I need to fuck you Pussylicker sent a $100 gift Prince_Casper: I dare you to finger her tight little pussy pretty boy

"I think they dared you to do something, baby," you mentioned, arching your back and spreading your legs wider. But Spencer's attention was somewhere else, most precisely, on your chest. Your nipples were begging for attention and he couldn't help but reach out his hands over the swell of your breasts. He gave them both a gentle, appreciative squeeze, admiring the way they looked in his hands.

"Babe," you whispered, your voice almost coming out as a whimper. "T- That's not what they want."

"But it's what I want," he said absentmindedly, too focused on watching the way his large hands covered your breasts. "They can wait a little longer."

His hands then moved to tug down the straps of your lingerie, your breasts spilling out from the sheer lace material and he groaned at the sight. "You're beautiful," he praised you, earning a soft blush along your cheeks. He palmed them again, watching the fleshy, supple skin contort around his touch. "No wonder everyone loves seeing your body."

Your breath quickened as you felt the sensations intensify, pleasure coursing through your body. "Are you sure you've never touched anyone before?"

He hummed a reply as he pinched your nipples between the calloused pads of his fingers, tugging them from your body as he cherished the gasp that left your lips. Letting go as he watched your breast bounce at the motion before repeating the action, wanting to pull more of those noises from your pretty lips. His eyes glanced over to the screen and smiled in satisfaction when your subscribers gifted you again.

"See? They like these as much as I do," he mentioned, giving your breasts a final squeeze before down your stomach, across the dip of your navel, up and down the thickness of your thighs until he stopped between your legs. Fingers lathered down your slit, feathering at your folds and experimentally teasing around your entrance. He watched himself as he pressed onto your pussy lips, spreading them apart for your viewers to see.

This position wasn't unfamiliar to you, you had spread your legs for the camera countless times, but to have another person touching you overwhelmed you in a way you didn't know possible. And when you thought you couldn't take more of the pleasure building up in your body, he proved you wrong by pressing a finger right onto your clit, making circular motions right on top of it.

You couldn't help but let out a moan louder than you intended to. "Babe..."

You gave into the sensation, watching as his fingers continued their exploration. You could already feel him harden with each steady, rhythmic beat of his heart while his fingers explored you, collecting the slick of your arousal before spreading it along your folds.

Hardcock69: fuck her with your fingers Hardcock69: ruin that sweet little pussy

Spencer didn't have to be asked twice, sliding his middle finger into you. You let out a gasp. "Fuck, baby..." Your eyes were transfixed on the screen as you watched the way his hand flexed, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you before adding another one, stretching your inner walls.

You whimpered as he began to thrust into you and your body jerked involuntarily. Your room was quickly filled with the lewd sound of his fingers plunging in and out of you as he kept a steady pace, fingers rutting into your tight hole, your slick inner walls clenching around him with each thrust. He watched your reflection on screen with curious eyes, catching the way your breath hitched and the way your lips fell split.

His fingers were long and thick, dragging along your walls. The moment of gentleness was suddenly gone when he picked up the pace. The speed turned into a ferocious one as if he was trying to reach deep inside of you and force something out. A reaction. He wanted to force another reaction out of you, more than you were giving to him now.

"That's it—fuck." You gasped, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

He curled his fingers inside of you, making your body jolt. He pressed the palm of his hand on your clit, and with every thrust, his skin rubbed against it. Your hips jerked against him again as a tiny moan escaped your lips, your head slumping against his shoulder.

"Faster," you managed to squeak. "I-I'm close."

Who was he to disobey your wishes? He obliged to your needs and pumped his fingers in a mind-numbing speed. The intensity made it hard for you to think, your body trembling as you felt the coil inside you tighten desperately.

A guttural whine left your lips as he began to pump his digits in and out of your sloppy pussy, focusing on the same spot inside of you with each flick of his wrist. Your mouth parted in a squeal as your toes curled, the soles of your feet digging into your mattress as he continued to thrust his fingers inside you, helping you to ride out your release.

Maybe it was the inexperience of sex, the way he had never seen a woman come undone right before him, that piqued his curiosity. It was his first time, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to the unknown, his eagerness to explore and understand the human body, especially your body. Every sensation, every moment, was tinged with the exhilaration of discovery, which led him to continue rocking his fingers into you, not slowing down even when you were a whining mess.

"Baby..." you whimpered. "W-What are you doing?"

Adam_4432: fuck her again Pussylicker: keep going pretty boy Pussylicker: don't stop even if she begs you to Pussylicker sent you a $200 gift

A new surge of pleasure engulfed you, a sensation unlike before. It coursed through your veins like a sweet, intoxicating elixir, so utterly consuming. Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, kneading them between your fingers as you felt this unusual sensation creep up on your lower half. It became so overwhelming your body was trying to ignore it, your eyes clenching shut as his fingers continued to pump into you.

"Oh, shit," You gasped. "I-I can't—"

Spencer's eyes flickered between the comments telling him not to stop and the way your body trembled in his arms. His free arm slid around your waist, pulling him into his chest as he gently whispered, "Do you want me to stop?"

Your lack of an answer was enough for him to keep going, digging his fingers deeper inside you, pressing onto that same spot repeatedly. He felt you shaking again, noticing the way your mouth fell apart as you gasped for air.

"I got you," he said softly, his eyes trailing down your body and his fingers between your legs. "Breathe," he instructed, slightly pausing when you clenched around him.

"N-No, don't stop," you begged him. "I can take it."

He curled his fingers again and you arched your back, hips bucking against his hand. "Oh god," you cried out, your voice sounding a little raw. "That's it—fuck, I'm gonna cum again."

He started to speed up, a sound of pleasure leaving his lips when your pussy started to squelch. It didn't take long for you to reach your second high as he doubled his movement, thrusting into you faster. You were shaking uncontrollably, and as you were about to calm your breathing from the overwhelming pleasure, another sensation burned between your legs.

You tipped your head back as it traveled along your body, clamping your thighs together only for him to push them apart again with his other hand. Every touch from him sent shockwaves of ecstasy, making your limbs quiver and your breath hitch. The sensation was so consuming that it turned your thoughts into a mushy, incoherent whirlwind, rendering your mind of rational thoughts.

"F-fuck, fuck, fuck," you cried out. The intensity of it overwhelmed you to the point your tears began to flow. "R-right there—"

JadenCums: HOLY FUCK Prince_Casper: SHE'S GONNA SQUIRT Prince_Casper: FUCK HER FASTER!!!!!  Pussylicker sent you a $100 gift Adam_4432 sent you a $200 gift

Your body trembled uncontrollably, each shiver echoing the overpowering sensations that consumed you, and you couldn't hold it anymore. A harsh whine was torn from your lips as your release rippled through you. You gasped as your cunt began to convulse, a clear stream of liquid gushing from between your thighs as you cried out, "Spe—"

Spencer grunted as he clamped your mouth with his free hand, stopping you from calling out his name. He quickly pulled his hand and rubbed your clit furiously as he tried to coax more of the liquid from your convulsing body. Your body quivered as his meticulous touch kept you teetering on your high, the pleasure flowing through you as you continued to come undone.

He watched as your chest rose up and down, your perky breasts moving every time you tried to calm your breathing. Your body was still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you didn't want your viewers to see you in your most vulnerable state, at least not now when you were still trying to comprehend what just happened. So you sat up and quickly turned off your stream before you glanced at your drenched sheets and the mess you splattered across your desk.

“I- I’ve never—” You were shocked, the sensation completely new to you. "That... that never happened to me before."

You could hear the triumph in his voice as he replied, "Really?"

You were torn between amusement at his gloating and embarrassment at your own overwhelming experience. You turned your head to see him sitting there, grinning sheepishly at you. Your eyes flickered between his legs, noticing the outline of his cock pressing against his pants, and even by the shadow of it, you could tell his size was bigger than you anticipated. 

It didn't take long for you to make a move, really, because he was staring at you with doe eyes filled with lust and you couldn't stop yourself from climbing onto his lap, earning a moan from his lips as you settled right on top of his cock. Your wetness covered him and it took a lot of self-control for him not to pounce at you right at this moment.

"Hey, Spence?" Your voice was sweet, the tone of it reminded him of the way you had asked him to join you when you both stood in the kitchen. His ears perked up as he held you by your waist.

"Yeah?"

You smiled down at him. 

"What do you think about losing your virginity?"

He had never agreed to anything so fast in his life.

[thebarontheabyss]

This tale starts with your death.

Read WIP here

(Current wordcount: 240k!)

You remember only the moth, carrying you through the cosmos.

And so, the Abyss beckons you.

Now, you are a spirit, immortal. After a meeting with the Grim Reaper, Death, you were gifted with a peculiar inheritance: a bar.

This mysterious establishment and the Abyss around it serve as a nexus, connected to every realm in existence. It's a haven where spirits and deities, devils and angels, converge to drink and revel.

Yet, beneath the surface, an unease stirs. A voice calls out in your dreams—a loneliness that echoes through the Abyss. Why does it seek you?

A motley crew of spirits and immortals, each hailing from distant corners of the realms, stands with you. Bonds are waiting to be formed, or even love that transcends death itself—perhaps even with Death themself.

Manage your bar, where serving a drink to a god or an eldritch entity is just another day's work. Unravel a cosmic mystery, go on a date in infernal Hell, witness the universe's creation, or unlock the arcane secrets of magic.

Your new afterlife awaits.

A narrative-driven experience focused on character development and storytelling.

Play as any gender or none.

Shape your personality through meaningful choices.

Engage in deep and complex relationships with a diverse cast of characters.

Romance mortals and immortals alike - if you want poly, purely physical, or asexual - they will respond in kind.

Explore the afterlife, visit realms of immortals and gods, and uncover the dark secrets of the bar.

M\F\NB (Poly or Monogamous paths) Death reveals a surprising warmth beneath their eternal duty.

Is there room for love within their everlasting embrace? Read more >>>

M\F (Poly or Monogamous paths) This devilish being, a powerful magnet of desire, seeks more than power in the bar’s shadows.

Who dares to pursue the heart behind the flame?

Read more >>>

M\F (Poly or Monogamous paths) The Witch, with their feline companion, seeks a lost soul, their magic stirring trouble and passion alike.

Can a mortal love thrive in the spirit realm?

Read more >>>

M (Monogamous path)

A mercenary turned security guard, Hastur carries an immortal burden, guilt born of past battles and sacrifices.

Will your love heal his wounds?

Read more >>>

NB (Monogamous path) The spectral diva enchants with their voice, their performance a dance of beauty tinged with the sorrow of eternal life.

Can your love find a new song for them?

Read more >>>

M\F\NB (Monogamous path) A shade keeps the bar’s order, and his silence holds the weight of cosmic secrets and the tapestry of existence.

Will your heart fall for the being behind the shadow?

Read more >>>

With feathers dark and wit sharp, The Raven’s history is as rich as the bar itself. He offers piercing insight beneath a layer of humor.

Read more >>>

The stern soothsayer-turned-accountant Yaga guards the bar’s fortune while wrestling with her own spectral regrets and wisdom.

Read more >>>

Shelly, the bar’s assistant, brings life-affirming warmth but seeks a new family to fill the void of her lost one.

Read more >>>

Welcome to the cosmos: the tapestry of existence, a complex weave of ever-changing realms. Each domain is a thread in the grand design.

Read more >>>

Feedback on any typos, grammatical errors, or other textual issues.

Notes on any continuity errors to ensure a smooth and logical progression.

Thoughts and opinions on the plot, characters, and overall narrative experience.

Don't be shy about sending your feedback - as small as it may be. I'll be answering and taking each into consideration. You are very welcome to post your reviews here!

The game explores themes of Death in various forms, including suicide.

Alcohol indulgence and its various side effects (hangovers, vomiting, etc.)

Sexual themes (currently only non-explicit)

[shewolfofvilnius]

I feel sorry for Orin

repurposed from an old Reddit post of mine

Edit: Wrote an epilogue fic where my Durge, Sofija, seeks redemption for her sister with the Gods

Raised from birth in the Bhaal cult and has never known ANYTHING else. Literally the result of incest between her mom and Sarevok (her father AND grandfather) - and for her entire life is actively manipulated and groomed to worship her "Grandfather" second only to Bhaal (leaving a disgusting implication that Sarevok might eventually try again). Literally every single day of her life spent in a murder cult, never knowing anything else.

Her mother is actively manipulated when Orin is seven to try to kill her daughter, only for Orin to reflexively kill her first, at which point Orin was briefly possessed by Bhaal himself (per some Sarevok dialogue). AT AGE SEVEN. And even from a young age, Orin's true gift is her artistry, a talent that outside the Bhaal cult probably could have been nurtured into something phenominal, but inside the cult is twisted into a sinisterness in the kill that, when she's out of earshot is decried as wasteful.

She eventually rises through the ranks (never have had any choice), having never felt a meaningful moment of compassion or kindness and, desperate to be cared about, sees the power and fear and respect her bloodkin (The Dark Urge) has gained and uses their hubris to take them out.

Ironically, in the timeline where Durge lives, they get a gift Orin couldn't even dream of - a 2nd chance. With their brain scrambled and the tadpole present but being interfered with, the Dark Urge got a chance to be someone new. (Whether they accept or reject that 2nd chance, they at least got a choice this time).

What did Orin get for her troubles? Her (grand)father openly coveted to either take her out, or worse, take her out - when the time was right, her own allies both detested her (Gortash openly revels at the idea of working with the Dark Urge again)

and most brutally, if you manage to confront her with the truth, any of it? About Sarevok, about her mother, etc? She immediately believes you. And for one (1) moment, maybe there's hope for her.

Hope that Bhaal immediately rips away; an Orin confronted with the truth and showing even the slightest hesitation is immediately forcibly transformed into the Slayer by Bhaal himself, with a strong implication that the core of the old Orin is gone forever win, lose, or draw. "No more doubts, no more fears, no more Orin. Become murder.". Seeing what Bhaal's reaction was the moment Orin had one (1) instant of hesitation also confirms that she'd likely have never had the chance to choose differently, either Bhaal would always step in or else she'd eventually meet her end.

Imagine the AU where Orin takes her CLEAR flair and artistic talent to become a truly great artist. Where she gets the same second chance that Durge got - If she'd been able to use her talent for impersonation and desire to great to do something powerful instead of being forced by her family from childhood into the family business of murder.

She literally never had a chance. Even Bane and Myrkul and their respective cults were never so unfathomably cruel, and she never knew anything else.

At least for my own first game, though, my Durge recognized that without her "sister," she'd have never gotten the chance to save the world, never met Shadowheart, never stopped a century worth of Ketheric's torture on Dame Aylin, never set in motion the liberation of the Githyanki...In the right world states, Orin unwittingly saved the world, but it's a world she'll never get to see or know, and probably never could have.

That's tragic as hell.

[wileys-russo]

a deals a deal II l.williamson

"where'd you find this place?" you smiled in awe as you followed leah into the arcade, the blonde not missing the ways your eyes had lit up the moment the two of you had even parked outside, exactly the reaction she'd hoped for.

it having been your girlfriends turn to organize date night leah reveled in the fact that it was already seeming to be a success before it officially started, and you had to admit the older girl knew you like the back of her hand with this choice.

with both of you working full time, leah as a footballer and you as a primary teacher you both made a commitment early on, the moment things started getting serious, that despite your hectic schedules you'd still make every effort to keep consistent with spending quality time outside of work together.

and so the weekly date nights came into effect.

they weren't always big significant events nor did they always mean the two of you left your shared home, the key takeaway was quality time and so long as the two of you were focused on one another then that was guaranteed.

"lotte put me onto it, tao brought her here on one of their first dates." leah admitted as you gasped sarcastically. "and you're not even taking the credit? oh baby i'm so proud of you!" you cooed mockingly, pinching her cheeks as the taller girl shoved you playfully, the two of you making your way to the counter.

"i'll be taking credit for all the games i'm about to smash you at my girl, don't you worry your pretty little head about that." leah smiled smugly as you rolled your eyes and she hooked you both up with a large bag of tokens, even further fueling your excitement at the fact they still ran their games the old school way, physical tickets printed and all.

"oh my love me and my pretty little head cannot wait to watch you eat your words!" you grinned in response to her call out, and given neither of you liked to lose and were incredibly competitive, it was sure to be an interesting night.

there was a reason the two of you stopped getting invites to game night with leahs family, both of you banned until you learned how to behave like well mannered young women and not hotheaded impatient numpties, in the words of her grandmother.

"well either way you can consider tonight endless tokens, if you can spend them then i will buy them gorgeous." leah promised, pecking your lips sweetly with a charming smile and offering for you to pick the first game.

"mm good question babe. what do i want to beat you at first?" you pondered, stroking your chin as leah sighed dramatically at the time you were taking, tapping her foot and shoving her hands into the pocket of her jacket with a bored look written into her features.

"oh come on!" leah groaned impatiently as you pivoted away from yet another game, amused smirk on your features as you finally stopped and nodded happily.

"basketball. lets start off simple!" you decided, grabbing your girlfriends hand and dragging her over toward the game, the blonde hurrying to yank you back as a gang of young boys sprinted past almost smashing into you, leah looking after them with a deep seeded scowl.

"hey lee, need i remind you this place is actually designed for kids baby, relax." you smiled poking at her cheeks as she huffed air out of her nose but focused her attention back on you, both of you slipping tokens into your sides as the game lit up and a strong american accent yelled out the rules.

"ready...set....go!" leah counted down as the buzzer sounded, both of you scrambling to grab the balls, zoned in on your own rings as the points started to rack up for both of you.

leah snuck a quick glance to your side, bright eyes widening in shock seeing you were in the lead and by quite a significant amount. and just as you said neither of you liked to lose, which is what lead to her next move.

"oi!" you gasped as the defender leaned over and knocked the ball out of your hand, shooting with her other, doing it again and again as you reached for the basketballs.

"leah!" you laughed at her blunt competitiveness, shoving her as the final buzzer for the game sounded and the blonde cheered victoriously, pumping her fist and doing a victory wiggle having just beat you by two points.

"you are such a cheat and a shit loser." you shook your head as leah continued her victory dance, snatching her tickets from the machine and shoving them into her pocket.

"nah i'm not, cause i didn't lose." she booped you on the nose with a token as you smacked her shoulder. "right well if you want to carry on like that. would you care to make this interesting then williamson?" you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest.

"mm perhaps, what do you have in mind for a wager pretty girl?" leah raised an eyebrow curiously, cocky smirk still curled into her features.

"if i win, you do all the dishes and the laundry for a month." you stated, leahs jaw dropping and your smile widening knowing she detested the two tasks and would often offer you anything in return for not having to do them.

"a month!? nah two weeks mate max." "aw, are you that scared you'll lose baby?" "i am not! fine, a month then."

"but if i win... then you have to do that thing i've been asking you to since christmas, with my special gift." leah cocked her head to the side, storm blue eyes roaming over your body hungrily as you frowned a little in confusion before it clicked just exactly what she was after.

both half jokingly and half seriously the blonde had gifted you a very ill fitting maids costume for christmas, stating as part of your gift to her you should spend the day wearing it, claiming it would be great motivation for her to join you in doing the housework.

you only laughed and put it away, teasing that not even that would get her to pick up a dirty dish.

but every now and then leah would find it in the back of the wardrobe and the begging would start for you to live out what was clearly a fantasy for the taller girl, and each time you'd just teasingly shake your head in amusement and depart the room with a kiss, leaving her without a real answer.

"fine, a deal's a deal." you shrugged in agreement which was clearly to your girlfriends surprise as her eyebrows shot up in shock and you extended your hand, wiggling your fingers eagerly.

"brilliant. a deals a deal." the blonde echoed as she shook your hand but not before using it to pull your body into hers, stealing a kiss and nipping at your bottom lip, pulling away with a cheeky grin as your head spun and your cheeks flushed pink.

"right, my turn to pick then. and unlike some i won't take an hour to decide!"

~

"how in the hell do you even do this? its got no bloody control!" leah huffed, the two of you sat on motorbikes as you raced around the track on the screens in front of you, the girl beside you far from getting the hang of it despite it being the second time you'd raced, leah demanding a rematch after crashing her bike and earning a loss.

"like this, winner!" you cheered loudly, pumping your fists in the air as you zoomed across the finish line sitting back smugly as leahs eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown and she smacked at the handle bars in annoyance.

"loser." you pointed to her now with a wink as she flipped you off, rings glinting in the bright neon lights above.

"maybe i should get a motorbike." you teased, turning your body as leah jumped off the bike, appearing instantly in between your legs as you stayed sitting side sadle. "over my dead body, maybe focus on learning how to drive a car first babe." leah teased making you roll your eyes, her hands settling on your thighs and squeezing them with a grin.

"i'm a great driver thank you very much." "mmm but those handful of fines in your glovebox say differently baby girl." "those are parking fines leah, not driving offences." "oh i'm so sorry. correction then not only are you a shit driver but you're an appalling parker as well, can't even be trusted when the car is stationary!" leah tutted with a dissapointed shake of her head as you punched her in the shoulder and scoffed.

"sorry let me just get a score check, whose winning?" you asked, cupping a hand over your ear and leaning toward leah whose smile dropped.

"shut up." she mumbled with a small pout as you slid off the motorbike, the two of you wandering around for a moment as leah took her time choosing.

"perfect!" the taller girl grinned spotting a football shootout game in the back corner. "and how many goals do defenders normally score?" you hummed, pretending to be lost in thought as leah slotted in some tokens and rolled her eyes.

"don't be bitter that they don't have a teaching game babe, times tables aren't exactly something kids do in their time off for fun!" leah pouted sarcastically at your chosen career, you now the one to flip her off and gesture for her to start.

"right go on then superstar, dazzle me."

you had to hide your smile behind your hand as leah missed more kicks than she scored, the game clearly designed for a child with much less leg power as every ball sailed up and over the goal.

you watched as her shots became sloppier the more wound up and angry she got, only fueling her to continue to miss time and time again. "nah this is bullshit that's rigged!" leah scowled, kicking at the machine once her turn was over and grumbling under her breath.

"leah!" you scolded, moving her away from causing actual damage as she wound up for another kick.

"hey. breathe for me please, it's just a stupid arcade game, you're still a champion of europe baby. nothing takes that away!" you grabbed at her face, placing a soft kiss to her lips and feeling her body relax somewhat.

"...its just a good thing they didn't need you for any penalties because those attempts? massive yikes." "oi thats a red card for you my girl, absolutely uncalled for!"

~

"right, this ones the final game." leah glanced at the time and announced with a clap, the two of you so caught up you'd not even realized the time and how long you'd been here.

"oh how convenient, we're tied." you rolled your eyes, not believing that the 'score card' leah had been in charge of was really all that accurate, having been typed up in notes on her phone.

"and what is that supposed to mean?" "i'm accusing you of score tampering, williamson." "no idea what on earth you're on about love, i'll even be so kind as to forfeit my turn so that you choose our last game." "wow, and they say chivalry is dead?"

"mmm that one." you nodded to a shooting game in the corner you'd not yet tried, leah humming in agreement as you made your way over. "was that your stomach?" you asked in disbelief hearing a loud gurgle.

"yes! i'm fucking starving." leah moped with a huff, earning herself an unimpressed look from a mother standing at the next game with her two young kids, you smacking leah lightly and mumbling about her language.

"sorry miss." your girlfriend teased with a cocky smile as you rolled your eyes and gestured for her to take her turn. the gunner shot down 8 tin ducks out of 12 and shrugged, seemingly happy with her efforts.

"beat that, four eyes." leah smirked, flicking at your ear as you smacked away her hands and shot her a dirty look.

you only wore your glasses when you were using your laptop, reading or occasionally when teaching, and as much as leah found you utterly adorable in them the english captain also would never miss an opportunity to rib you about your poor eyesight.

"happily, noodle legs." you quipped back with a smile, grabbing the gun as leah mocked you under her breath and ordered for you to hurry up as her stomach rumbled again.

closing one eye you balanced the toy gun on your arm as the game commenced, shooting down six ducks with ease, a few more to go and you'd win still with plenty of time left to do so.

however as you placed your finger on the trigger, the timer counting down from ten, a set of hands wrapped themselves around your waist, one hand in particular slipping up the inside of your top and harshly squeezing at one of your boobs.

in shock at the unexpected touch you squeezed the trigger and dropped the toy gun, missing the ducks by a mile as the timer went off and leah's hands suddenly disappeared, your skin burning where they'd once been.

"oh that is so not fair! you. are. a. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. dirty. little cheat." you protested with a growl, turning on your heel to glare towards a smug looking leah, poking at her chest angrily with each word.

"i simply do not know what you're talking about gorgeous, i guess your aim was just off. and that is not my fault!" the blonde simply smiled cockily, knowing she'd now won.

though sensing your rapidly growing annoyance leah reached for your hand, pulling your body into hers and stepping the two of you in between two pinball machines, briefly tucked away from sight.

"leah catherine williamson you are an unbearably bad loser, a big child, bad mannered, short tempered and-" not even giving you the time to finish your sentence the taller girl cut you off by bringing your lips together, pressing your body against the arcade wall.

leahs hands settled themselves on your hips tucked away under her jacket you'd stolen from her earlier in the night, the defender slowly swiping her tongue against your bottom lip, taking control of the kiss as your arms wrapped around the back of her neck, tangling themselves in her recently chopped short blonde locks.

though before the two of you got any further carried away someone winning a game meant a loud siren went off behind you, the two of you jumping away from one another in shock at the abrupt noise of the machines, sharing a look before breaking out into soft laughter.

"come on hangry, lets go get you some food then." you smiled with a sigh as leahs stomach rumbled yet again, previous annoyance melting away as it always did when it came to the mischievous footballer you were head over heels for.

"no i think we should head home, i'm hungry for something else now." leah murmered quietly, thumb stroking your jaw, lips curling into a smug smile at how your cheeks flushed scarlet at her suggestive tone.

"plus i think you're due for a little outfit change baby girl. a deal's a deal and you're nothing short of a woman of your word, right?"

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Blood of My Blood

Summary: Stuck between duty and passion, she is given no choice but to yield to the game Aemond wishes to play | Words: 4.1k~ | Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, incest (character is implied to have strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping, forced marriage

Can be read as a stand-alone or as a part two for The Blood is Rare!

His fingers tightened around her arm, the pressure a mix of anger and possessiveness. He forcefully ushered her across the threshold of the chambers she once called home, back when she resided there alongside the Hightower children. The worn flagstones caused her feet to stumble, while her forearm throbbed with bruises from his grip. She shot him a glance filled with both hurt and fury.

“You cannot treat me like this,” she spat viciously. 

Aemond merely stepped back, his expression unyielding. "You are to be my wife. I'll treat you as I please."

Before she could reach the double doors, they slammed shut, brass fixtures rattling as Aemond hastened to secure her inside. Despite her feeble attempts to push back against the doors, her fists bruised from the effort, he locked her in without hesitation.

“They will come for me!” she screamed in protest, “unlock this, at once!”

Locked within the confines of the chamber, her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and defiance. She paced the room, her mind racing with thoughts of escape and retribution. Outside, the distant echoes of footsteps and murmured voices hinted at the presence of guards or servants, but she knew she couldn't rely on them for help.

King Viserys was dead. And Alicent Hightower planted her son on her mother’s throne.

As the hours dragged on, her frustration grew with each passing moment. She tried every possible means of escape, but the sturdy oak doors remained firmly shut, sealing her fate within the chamber. Her mind raced with thoughts of her family, of the kingdom thrown into turmoil by the sudden death of King Viserys. And now, with Aemond's revelation of his family's plan to anoint Aegon on the morrow, she realised the true extent of the danger she faced.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing outside her prison. The door creaked open, and Aemond stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. She studied his face, and saw he looked slightly withered and tired, covered with a mask of coldness.

"We have much to discuss," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But first, you must understand the gravity of the situation."

She eyed him warily, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"Aegon will be crowned tomorrow," he explained, his tone solemn. "And my family has plans for us as well."

Her stomach churned with dread as she listened to his words. "What plans?"

"A marriage," he said simply, his gaze unwavering. "In the traditions of our ancestors, to solidify our alliance and secure our place in the new realm."

Her mind reeled at the thought of marrying the man who had imprisoned her against her will. But she knew that in the game of thrones, alliances were forged with marriages as much as with swords.

A tension-laden silence filled the chamber, thick with unspoken words and unyielding resolve. her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed her options, acutely aware of the consequences of her decision. The memory of their clandestine tryst, a moment of forbidden passion she dared not admit she had enjoyed, lingered in the recesses of her mind, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the situation.

"I will not be your pawn," she said, her voice trembling with defiance. 

A flicker of anger flashed across Aemond's face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold mask of indifference.

"You have no choice," he said icily. "You will marry me, for the good of our families and the realm. Just as Daeron will wed a Baratheon girl, to secure-"

She shook her head stubbornly, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I will not be forced into a marriage I do not want."

Aemond's gaze narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not be foolish, mandianna. You have a duty to your family, to the legacy of House Targaryen. You will marry me, and you will bear me heirs to secure our place in history."

But she refused to be swayed by his empty words. "I will not be your broodmare, and I will not be shackled to you for the rest of my days," she declared, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Not when you have already taken so much from me."

Aemond's expression darkened, his features contorted with anger. "Do not speak to me of what I have taken," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You gave yourself to me willingly, and now you will suffer the consequences."

She swallowed thickly, her pride blurring the edges of what she knew was the truth.

“He is no King of mine.”

A heavy silence settled over the chamber, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a shroud of defiance. Aemond's eye blazed with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed as if he might shatter his teeth with the force of his anger. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them palpable. The threat of declaring treason hung heavy.

Finally, Aemond broke the silence, his voice cold and menacing. "You dare to defy me," he hissed, his words dripping with contempt. "You would betray your own blood, your own family, for the sake of your misguided principles?"

She met his gaze head-on, her chin lifted defiantly despite the tremble in her limbs. "I will not betray my mother," she declared, her voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at her insides. "You speak of blood after years of declaring me and my brothers alike your sole distaste.”

Aemond's nostrils flared with barely contained rage at her words, his eye narrowing into a slit as he took a step closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. "Do not presume to lecture me on matters of blood," he seethed, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You may share the blood of House Targaryen, but you lack the fire that defines our lineage."

“Careful, Uncle,” she whispered, her voice tinged with fury, “I am as much Targaryen as you.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Aemond's features, his gaze faltering for a moment before hardening once more into a mask of disdain. "You may share the name, but you lack the strength and resolve to wield it," he sneered, his words like a lash that cut through the air between them. "You are nothing but a weak, insignificant girl who fancies herself a dragon."

Her jaw tightened at Aemond's cutting words, her resolve hardening as she refused to let his insults diminish her spirit. "Strength is not defined by the size of one's flames, Uncle," she retorted, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.

Aemond's lip curled in a mixture of anger and begrudging admiration. Despite himself, he couldn't deny the fire that burned within her, the same fire that had characterised the Targaryen bloodline for generations. "You have spirit, I'll give you that," he conceded, his voice low and grudgingly impressed. "But spirit alone will not save you from the realities of this world."

She held his gaze, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she felt the tension between them crackle like lightning in the air. Despite their antagonistic exchange, there was an undeniable chemistry that simmered just beneath the surface, a primal attraction that neither of them could ignore.

As if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Aemond took another step closer, his eye darkening with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "You may defy me, niece," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "But deep down, you know that we are bound together by more than just blood and duty."

She felt her throat close up, her body betraying what she wanted him to believe about her. That she recoiled at the mere sight of him. That she could not bear to be within the same quarters. That she hated him.

And all of it was a lie.

She would not have given herself so freely to him in that darkened alcove if she truly loathed him. And yet her pride marred the truth.

“You will be my wife,” Aemond stated, his voice devoid of negotiation. It was a command, wrapped in the certainty of his position, a reflection of the harsh realities of their lineage and the role they played in the ongoing struggle for power.

Her reaction was a mix of defiance and disbelief. This was not the offer of a partner, but the demand of a prince used to being obeyed. Yet, even as the words hung in the air between them, she could not ignore the complex web of emotions that tied her to this man. There was no love in this arrangement, but there was something else—something harder to define.

“You speak of marriage as though it were another battle to be won. I am not spoils of war to be claimed.”

Aemond’s eye, ever so piercing, momentarily hardened, hinting at the turmoil beneath his princely facade. His hand flew out, gripping her jaw as he had done that steamy evening, clutching her skin in his long fingers - a warning.

“Come with me, willingly or not. It is your choice, niece.”

Her eyes locked onto his with a fierceness that could rival any dragon's gaze, attempting to sear his very soul with her stare. Yet, in defiance of the forceful hand upon her jaw, she wrenched herself free, her breathing heavy with indignation. The so-called choice he presented felt like a cruel jest, highlighting the absence of any real agency she possessed.

The machinations of the Greens had cornered her into this union with Aemond, rendering any thought of escape futile from the outset.

Their wedding was a somber affair, marked more by the exchange of solemn vows and cold, resentful looks than any semblance of joy or union. Throughout the ceremony, her thoughts wandered, detached from the grim proceedings. And when the final blessings were about to be pronounced, she turned abruptly, her last vestiges of defiance carrying her away to the solitude of her quarters.

The sense of betrayal that churned within her was overwhelming, a treachery not only to her mother's cause but to herself. The disappointment her family would feel loomed over her, a burden more oppressive than the iron crown could ever be.

Moreover, the realisation that this marriage was orchestrated merely to secure an heir, to bind her bloodline to Aemond's as a political safeguard against total war, was revolting.

Standing alone, she tried to steady her trembling hands by focusing on the wine cup she held, just as Aemond's footsteps halted behind her. She braced herself for an encounter she dreaded, yet his next words took her by surprise.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” he said simply.

She spun around, half-expecting to confront a man prepared to enforce his will regardless of her consent. Instead, she met his gaze and found something unexpected—a reflection of restraint and perhaps a hint of understanding.

In that moment, a complex array of emotions coursed through her, challenging her perceptions and forcing her to acknowledge the intricate layers of their predicament.

“I will not lay with you tonight. You do not wish it.”

Her guard, so meticulously maintained, began to falter at the honesty in his words. "And what of tomorrow?" she asked, a tinge of cynicism threading her question. "When the sun rises, will your sense of duty not dictate our interactions?”

"It likely will," he conceded, the corners of his mouth turning down in a grimace. "But tonight, you've had enough battles to face. I won't add to them."

The silence that fell between them was filled with a tentative understanding, a fragile thread connecting two individuals caught in the crossfire of political machinations and familial obligations.

Yet, she was acutely aware that Aemond was not a mere bystander in the unfolding of these events. And it would be a mistake for him to assume she would quietly acquiesce to their circumstances.

Throughout the following day, Aemond's absence hung over her like a shadow, his presence felt more in his lack than in actuality. The dread of uncertainty twisted in her stomach, her mind conjuring scenarios that left her restless and wide-eyed, staring at the chamber doors until the early hours. The knowledge of her new status as his wife did nothing to ease her apprehension. It only highlighted her vulnerability, the potential for him to assert his marital rights in a way that robbed her of any semblance of control.

Yet, despite her fears, Aemond remained absent, his intentions opaque, leaving her to grapple with the anxiety of anticipation alone. The silence of the night was broken only by the distant, powerful beats of Vhagar's wings, a sound that resonated with ominous foreboding. She watched from her window as the great dragon, with Aemond upon her back, vanished into the stormy clouds that brooded overhead.

When Aemond returned to their chambers, it was not the composed prince who entered but a man storming in, soaked to the bone, his demeanor radiating tight, barely controlled anger. The storm outside mirrored his internal tempest, the rain that clung to him a testament to the chaos that seemed to follow in his wake.

His sudden appearance in the dead of night, the way he moved with a predatory grace, charged the air with a palpable tension. She could see in his expression the fracture of a man who had lost control, his ego bruised by the events that had transpired, a dangerous edge to his anger that made her heart race.

In that moment, the dynamics of their relationship stood on a knife's edge, the events of the night poised to define the course of their future interactions. It was a test of wills, a confrontation between power and vulnerability, where the choices they made could either bridge the gap between them or widen it into an insurmountable chasm.

"Aemond," she began, her voice steady despite the fear that threatened to choke her words. "What has happened?"

He halted mid-pace, turning towards her. The flicker of the candles reflected off his wet face, casting shadows that made his expression all the more inscrutable. "The game has changed," he said through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.

Her eyes traced his movements, every nerve alight.

“What game?” She dared to ask.

Aemond's gaze was steel, the kind that cut deeper than swords. "The game we're all pawns in—the game for the Iron Throne." His words were heavy, laden with a darkness that seemed to suck the warmth from the room. 

“Aemond, tell me plainly. What have you done.”

Her voice was terse, but it trembled.

There was a hardness in his gaze, a glint of something fierce and unyielding.

"Luke," he finally uttered, his tone laden with a severity that chilled her to the bone.

In that instant, clarity and horror crashed over her like a wave. Luke was gone, his life extinguished in the brutal game of thrones that spared no one, not even the innocent. A gnawing question arose within her: Had her mother been informed, or was she, too, left in the dark until now?

The realisation that Aemond, now her husband, had been responsible for her brother's death sent a shiver of fear down her spine. The man standing before her, cloaked in shadows and rain, was no longer just the prince she had been bound to in a marriage of convenience. He was a killer, capable of extinguishing a life—a life she had cherished. Luke's laughter, his teasing smile, the memories they shared, all extinguished in a moment's violence. And if Luke, then why not her? 

Aemond's demeanour shifted, perhaps sensing the change in her perception. "You fear me now," he stated, not a question but a flat acknowledgement.

She took a cautious step back, her mind racing. The man before her, powerful enough to command dragons and armies, had shown he did not shy away from kinslaying. "I believe I ought to" she countered, her voice a whisper of defiance.

He paused, and in that silence, the harsh reality of their situation seemed to settle around them like a cloak. As Aemond moved closer, intending to assert himself, she couldn't suppress the instinctual urge to retreat. The space between them, filled with the unsaid and the undone, seemed insurmountable.

She could not help the stark whimper that escaped her when his fingers formed a fist in her hair at the back of her head, pulling her unyielding face up to meet his, his angered breath spilling over her face.

“You believe I would harm you.”

How could she not? She thought. He had so often shown a calm, quiet anger. And unleashed it all within a short afternoon, with Luke's body somewhere at the bottom of the sea surrounding Storm’s End.

“You dare to question this when you have murdered my brother,” she spat back at him.

Jaw clenched, Aemond raised his other hand to his eye patch, quickly ripping it off to reveal to her what was beneath it. The angry red scar extended from his forehead to his cheek, jagged, clumsy. And where his eye would have been was raw, a bright sapphire sitting firmly within the socket, forboding.

Of course, she knew what Luke had done, but she had never seen him like this. Fear gripped at her skin, and a strange throbbing between her thighs at the way he looked over her like this. Thought she attempted to now show that on her face.

Her expression must have mirrored poor Luke's mere hours before, as her new husband gazed down at her, his demeanour terrifyingly calm.

“You defend your little bastard brother after how he has maimed me?”

“Aemond, please-” she pleaded, only moving away an inch before her husband tugged her back, tighter.

“Your brother was of no use to this realm. But you,” he spat, one hand tucking up her skirts and then meanly digging at her hips, “I need your sweet little cunt for my heirs, mandianna.”

She felt her mouth go dry, unable to say a thing. She whimpered again when he used his grip on her hair to turn her body around, keeping her back towards his chest, his fingers slipped along her jaw, as if to communicate that he could wrap them around her throat at any moment.

Aemond was sitting on a knife’s edge. And she dare not tilt him in any particular direction. Equally though, she dare not admit to herself that it was exciting in a most forbidden way.

“You are my wife,” he murmured quietly, sliding her small clothes down her thigh, flourishing with gooseflesh, “and who am I to deny her her duty?”

She suppressed a yelp when her hands lay flat on the table, her breasts pressed hard against the oak as she felt Aemond's rapidly growing harness at her backside where he was rucking up her skirts. 

Though she tried to wriggle free of him, one hand at the nape of her neck with undeniable strength was all it took to remind her how much smaller she was than him. How difficult it would be to resist. Does she just go through with it? Let her Uncle, her brother's murderer, take her like a common whore whenever he wishes?

She could envisage no escape, and as ashamed as she was to admit it to herself, she could do nothing but submit. At least there would be some pleasure.

She jolted as his slender fingers parted her folds with a click of her essence coated his digits, dragging his touch from her opening to her overly-sensitive bud.

“See how wet you become for me still,” he murmured, pressing his chest against her back, broad body caging her in, “though I am the greatest sinner in the realm, your body still begs for it, sweet niece. What does that make you?”

“Kepus, please-” 

“A traitor to your own kin?” He whispered, exhaling shakily when he nudged her legs apart an inch and slipped the fat head of his cock between her arousal-glistened folds, disappearing into her without effort.

Her lips parted, a quiet moan slipping past at being split onto his length. And though little time had passed since their first tryst, she still felt the sting and girth of him as if it were.

Aemond groaned deeply, at the feeling of her sucking him in so willingly, her walls greedily tightening around his length.

“Or loyal to your kinslaying husband?” He added huskily.

How was she to respond when the air was incessantly pushed right from her lungs at every snap of his hips? The table legs creaked against the floor and her breasts ached from being pressed down to the oak by the tight grip of his fingers around her nape.

She wanted to say that he was brutalising her, taking what he wanted with no care for her pleasure, but even that wouldn't be true. Aemond's rhythmic grunts came hot against her ear as he rutted into her, his hand kneading the flesh of her buttock in one hand, grasping tightly to allow himself deeper access to her.

She felt as if she was betraying herself, moaning the way she was. And Aemond certainly did not miss a thing.

“Stubborn little cunt - saying you don't want it but I can feel you begging for my seed -”

The mocking tone of his voice had her clench around him, humiliation clawing at her skin the more Aemond speared her onto his length in quick rhythmic movements. Her moisture coated his shaft, his pelvis painting the inside of her thighs with it in the heat of their passion. 

Aemond looked down between them, his fingers leaving red marks on her buttock the more he gripped. Both hands drifted either side, pulling at her supple flesh to watch the way her cunt took him, his lips parted in appreciation of how he disappeared into her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling so boneless that she did not attempt to wiggle away when he was no longer holding her down. Instead her fingers curled over the table for stability in a desperate plea to ground herself from the hot, tight feeling building every time his cock hit her fleshy, wet end.

And just when she was getting used to the feeling, Aemond pulled her hips back to him, elevating her hips and slamming into her at an angle which brushed against that deep, sweet place inside her. 

A tingly, warm sensation fluttered up her spine, “kepus-”

“-fucking say you want it-” he murmured between breaths, pulling her onto him quicker the close the became to completion.

She bit her lip, if anything, using the last bit of her power to not give him the satisfaction of thinking she did in fact want it. So she remained silent, which only made his thrusts more aggressive and assertive.

“-I’ll give you my seed, watch you grow fat with child - and just when you think it's over, I'll fuck another one into you-”

Her nails dug into the oak, scraping painfully, lips parted in a soundless scream as she felt that wave of warmth and bliss crest, unable to control the way she fluttered around him.

Aemond strained, words caught tightly in his throat as he spilled inside of her, pulling her hips flush to him as if to mold himself to her irreparably. She shamefully felt herself tremble, her release still sending dull shockwaves through her blood as Aemond remained seated firmly within her.

She thought of her family. And how they would come to hate her for what she had become, allowing the man who had killed her brother to take her like this. She surely thought they would no longer see her the same with Aemond's child in her belly and tied to him by marriage. 

Tears threatened at her eyes, two feelings at war with one another, shame and pleasure.

She whimpered when Aemond pulled his softening cock from her, a rush of warm spend spilling down her thigh in a way that only exacerbated her humiliation.

“You will write to your mother and tell her of your loyalties.”

Aemond spoke so coldly in between soft pants, it was as if he was hardly the man she had known a few moments ago. It has always been like this. But in a way, it is what made him exciting. Unpredictability was as much exhilarating as it was terrifying.

A notion she held to as she glanced at him, his good eye hooded and blown wide and black with lust and the sapphire glinting in the orange glow of the room as if bloodthirsty.

The game had to be played. And if this was the way Aemond wanted to do it, then so be it.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[coriphallus]

The Dark Urge thoughts (and prayers)

anyone whos been following me knows im absolutely not normal about durge and i wanna share some tidbits that are implied, but not necessarily canonised, from their story;

I already made a post about it but it seems like bhaal has a degree of control over whether they live or die. he can deny them death, if they fail the duel with orin.

bhaal can command the slayer. he forces orin to transform if you talk to her about sarevok and the scene makes it clear that its against her will.

bhaal manipulates his kin in a subtler way. in the colony you can find a letter from old durge thats apologising to his father for 'liking' gortash. you can interpret their relationship as something deeper but even if it wasnt, this reads to me as terrified and desperate.

the reason being, if you have a LI in act 2 you get the famous bondage scene. coupled up with the letter above makes me think this is a pattern. bhaal can use their feelings against them. he did it with sarevok and orin's mother, orin's mother and orin, etc... it's not as straightforward as 'if you disobey ill kill the one you love'. you will. durge will.

bhaal is testing them in act 2, he revels in chaos, sure, but in the grand scheme of things he doesn't care about isobel. even if you tell scel that you'll kill her you're told that youre too late, you ignored your urges. from durge, bhaal doesn't expect calm calculated murder, he expects blind obedience. failing to receive that his first punishment is to take away something they cherish. there are no half measures, theres no bargaining with a god.

we get so many snippets of information that this has happened before, their foster family being their first victims. theyre made to kill their support system with their own hands, with no one to blame but themselves. they are actually apologising to their father for being fond of gortash because (in my humble opinion) theyre genuinely afraid.

how many times could this have happened, how many nights durge couldve woken up covered in the blood of someone they love until they gave in, became daddys obedient puppet?

durge is groomed for murder. scel says 'you always failed to conduct yourself without me' and given who he is i dont think hes talking about table manners when he says 'conduct'. durge needs 24/7 oversight to set themselves right lest they get tempted by softer things. lest they dare to step away from bhaals grand plan.

durge do have a choice. just as shadowheart had a choice, just as wyll or astarion had a choice. its a choice only in name.

theres no ending besides refusing bhaal that their friends and LI wont die by their hands. the entire lore of bhaalspawn is that theyre meant to conquer the world in his name and slit their own throat a top the mountain of corpses. as cazador aptly put, 'theyre made to be consumed.'

you can pray to bhaal and the narrator says he won't accept [any offering] but the entire world.

durge (and bhaalspawn) do get some sort of euphoria from murder. they crave it like an addict, but bhaalspawn (on prev games) don't constantly have to grapple with these urges as durge does.

now durge is a slightly special case but not in a good way. its implied that theyre not like a regular bhaalspawn, that theyre made by bhaal directly -so to speak-. which is to say, if youre playing a drow, they are bhaals closest approximation of a drow rather than a drow flesh and blood.

thats why theyre fighting tooth and nail against these urges every step of the way, they are literally bhaal himself(in essence). the personality they develop, the person who calls themselves 'tainted' and 'wretched', the character thats making choices throughout the game, theyre the tumour.

theirs is the story of cycle of abuse cranked up to 1000 and it is in parallel to all other origin companions.

[pin-k-ink]

brand // nakahara chuuya

tw ⇢ chuuya is absolutely down bad, possessive!chuuya, body worship, obsession, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names, mild exhibitionism

wc ⇢ 7k

The scent of coffee and crisp paperwork hung heavy in the stillness of the office, broken only by the occasional shuffle of files or tapping of computer keys. To most, it was the mundane backdrop of another workday morning. But for Chuuya Nakahara, it provided the perfect vantage point to quietly observe his favorite distraction.

You sat across the room, seemingly oblivious to the weight of his stare as you chatted animatedly with a cluster of admiring interns. A husky peal of laughter spilled from your lips, prompting a familiar twisting in Chuuya's gut. Like depressing the soul from a silk bag, your natural charm effortlessly drew others into your radiant orbit.

Yet you remained utterly blind to your own allure.

With each dulcet giggle and casually artless brush of fingers over an arm, Chuuya's jaw clenched tighter. He watched, jaw muscle twitching, as one particularly bold intern leaned over your desk, lips tantalizingly close to the curved shell of your ear as he mock-whispered some no doubt asinine quip. The way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you laughed should have been illegal.

A low, guttural growl rumbled up from Chuuya's chest as your head fell back, exposed throat a brazen temptation. The urge to march over and yank you against him, to scrape blunt teeth over that creamy column and renew the bruises already mottling your skin, was overwhelming. To stake his claim in the most primal way possible.

But no, that wouldn't do. Not here, not with so many prying eyes to witness his loss of control. He was the master of his realm, alpha and omega. The idea of such a public display of weakness made his stomach churn.

No, when he finally made his move, it would be on his terms alone. An exquisitely calculated gambit to conquer you utterly.

The game was finally in play.

From that moment on, your every interaction was needling beneath Chuuya's skin like shards of glass. He watched, consumed by that same gnawing hunger, as you unwittingly flirted and teased your way through the ranks of the office. So effortlessly you captivated them, stringing them all along without a shred of awareness.

It was delicious torment for Chuuya, stoked higher with each innocent caress and artfully arched look from beneath a heavy fringe of lashes. By all rights, you should have been his from the very start. His to possess, his to shelter from wandering eyes, his to mark as utterly his own.

The breaking point came one hazy afternoon as he stood in the doorway to his office, covertly watching you chat with the new postal clerk. The young man's eyes raked over your form with undisguised appreciation, shamelessly drinking in the soft curves and inviting swell of cleavage peeking from your top.

As if in slow motion, you shifted position, back arching ever so slightly in a subconscious invitation. It was a subtle motion, one you likely didn't even register. But to the hungry eyes watching you, it was a revelation painted in neon lights.

That was the moment the maddeningly elaborate plan solidified in Chuuya's mind. He would put on a masterful spectacle, one designed to snare you so completely that you had no choice but to finally see him as he truly was.

The following days were an exercise in brutally focused restraint for Chuuya. Each lingering glance, every casual brush of fingertips over your arm as you laughed at some inane joke, chipped away at his resolve. The urge to abandon all pretenses and simply take what he desired clawed at his sanity like the relentless ticking of a doomsday clock.

But he couldn't, wouldn't risk ruining everything now. Not when the final act was so close at hand.

So he maintained his carefully cultivated facade of disinterested composure, all while plotting out the finer details. Acquiring the dress was the first priority - a sinful creation of ruched crimson silk and daring cut-outs designed to entice and enflame. Next came the accessories, each piece painstakingly chosen to be a brand of ownership crying out to the world that you were well and truly his.

The final touches fell exquisitely into place with dizzying speed. Venue secured, travel arrangements made, loose ends methodically tied up until there was nothing left but to execute the plan.

Chuuya could scarcely focus as the morning of the event dawned bright and clear. The weight of the small velvet box tucked into his breast pocket was a lead talisman burning against his skin with every breath. This was it, the cumulation of weeks' worth of meticulous scheming, all leading to this one singular moment.

He forced himself to maintain an aura of unruffled nonchalance as he strode through the office towards your desk. You barely looked up from the stack of paperwork before you, attention wholly consumed by the tedious task at hand.

"We're going out tonight," Chuuya stated flatly, allowing no room for argument. "Clear your evening."

Your brow furrowed minutely as you raised your head, opening your mouth to likely protest the short notice. But whatever objections you may have voiced died on your lips as you met the subtly blazing intensity of his stare head-on.

In that infinite breath, the world seemed to judder to a halt, static electricity cackling along your nerve endings. There was no refusing him when he got like this, radiating an almost feral aura of raw dominance. So you simply nodded, temporarily robbed of speech.

The barest ghost of a smirk played about the hard line of Chuuya's mouth before he turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving you to stare after his retreating back. The man moved with the coiled power and easy menace of a snared panther, danger and sensuality rolled into one. It was utterly bewitching.

Those last few hours crept by at an agonizing pace, each minute feeling like an eternity. You struggled to focus, mind incessantly wandering to that scorching look that had stolen your breath and set your pulse rabbiting. Just what did Chuuya have planned?

By the time the workday sputtered to a close, you were near vibrating out of your skin with ill-masked anticipation. The not knowing, the delicious suspense, was a uniquely heady aphrodisiac all on its own.

Which was why the sight of Chuuya leaning against the building's front entrance, an inscrutable mirage in his crisply tailored suit, very nearly stopped your heart on the spot. How was it possible for one man to exude such commanding, darkly magnetic appeal?

"Took you long enough," he chided, voice terse but thrumming with an undercurrent of silken promise that made you shiver. "We can't be late."

Without awaiting your response, Chuuya spun on his heel, long legs easily outpacing your stunned shuffle to keep up. It was just one more tantalizing brick in the foundation of exquisite tension rapidly being constructed around you.

At last you reached the car - a sleek, purring behemoth of mirrored obsidian and buttery cream leather. Settling into the plush backseat, you couldn't resist trailing your fingertips over the velvety smooth upholstery as Chuuya slid in beside you.

"Where-" you began, only to break off when he leveled you with a look that could have been carved from granite.

"You'll see," was his only terse response before signaling for the driver to depart.

The ride passed in a loaded silence, the air between you and Chuuya thickening with each aching mile until it felt like inhaling smoke. You stole sidelong glimpses at him, admiring the severe masculine lines of his profile and the way the passing streetlights gilded his sharp cheekbones.

Finally, you could bear the suspense no longer. "Chuuya, what's this all abou-?"

"We're here."

The words were toneless, yet somehow still managed to ring with finality. You swallowed hard, suddenly uncertain if you truly wished to know where 'here' was.

Chuuya was already climbing out, leaving you to hurry after him with your heart lodged firmly in your throat. As you stepped out onto the dimly lit street, the first thing that struck you was the pervasive quiet. Not eerie, per se, but begging to be disturbed.

The second was the gorgeous, multi-story heritage building rising before you. More manor than mere residence, it stood wreathed in artfully maintained gardens with myriad stone pathways winding playfully through the manicured foliage. It was...certainly not what you had expected.

Before you could voice any of the thousand questions whirling through your mind, Chuuya's hand closed with definitive authority about your wrist, tugging you against the solid wall of his chest. His free hand delved into his suit jacket to withdraw a small velvet box which he pressed firmly into your palm.

"Open it," he demanded, voice low and edged with that same unnameable intensity.

You did, inhaling a shocked little breath at the stunning set of jewelry nestled within the box's plush interior...

With trembling fingers, you lifted the exquisite ruby pendant from its nest of black velvet. Even in the muted streetlight, the deep crimson stones seemed to smolder with their own inner fire. Wordlessly, you turned it over, only to have the breath punched from your lungs.

There, engraved in a flowing script upon the ornate metal, were the unmistakable initials 'N.C.'

You whipped your head up to meet Chuuya's burning stare, a silent question seared into your features. He simply held your gaze, expression inscrutable yet blazing with unspoken promises that made your pulse spiral dizzily.

"Put it on," he finally rumbled, giving you the barest of nods.

There was no room for argument or negotiation, only complete submission. Trembling, you fumbled with the delicate clasp until the heavy pendant rested against the hollow of your throat. It was cool against your feverish skin, a claim of possession both brazenly overt yet darkly intimate.

Chuuya's eyes went molten at the sight, raking over the barbaric accessory before flicking back up to snare you in his smoldering scrutiny once more.

"Perfect," he purred in a rumbling timbre that danced like sparks along your nerve endings. "Now for the rest."

With those cryptic words, Chuuya produced a sleek garment bag from somewhere behind him and thrust it against your chest. You clutched it reflexively, mouth working soundlessly as you sought to formulate a coherent question. But Chuuya was already turning away, striding towards the imposing manor with the unwavering confidence of a man bound for the inner sanctum of his domain.

Casting one last bewildered glance at the softly rustling gardens surrounding you, you trailed after him. Each clicked footfall across the immaculately tended grounds resonated through you with finality. Like an outrider steadily advancing to lay siege upon some uncharted keep.

The double doors yawned open at Chuuya's approach, allowing you both to sweep unimpeded into the cavernous foyer with its vaulted ceilings and exquisite architectural detailing. The manor's opulence was simultaneously breathtaking and disconcerting.

"Get changed," Chuuya ordered without preamble, gesturing to the ornate wooden doors several paces further within. "And don't even think about giving me any arguments."

The look he pierced you with brooked no debate, so you swallowed down your growing sense of trepidation and nodded. With the garment bag clutched between white-knuckled fingers, you slipped through the doors and found yourself in a decadently-appointed boudoir.

Plush chaise longues and silk draperies abounded, giving the room an ambiance of sumptuous seduction that was dizzyingly at odds with the Gothic grandeur of the manor itself. You shook your head, trying in vain to quell the mounting disquiet fluttering madly within.

Each rustling movement of the garment bag's silk lining only served to heighten your unsettled state. But you knew there was no use delaying the inevitable, no deterring Chuuya once he'd set his mind to something.

With that resigned thought, you freed the dress from its protective cocoon with trembling hands. A punched-out exhalation escaped your lips, swallowed by the abrupt roaring in your ears.

The gown was...magnificent didn't seem an adequate descriptor. In deepest, most ensnaring shades of claret and crimson, it seemed to writhe as a living, sensual thing. Sumptuous folds of rich satin caressed with glistening silken trails of embroidered roses. Sheer side insets carved revealing glimpses of toned curves and supple skin. The plunging neckline was positively corseted in its scandalous indecency, the dramatic sweetheart bodice sculpted to accentuate the most intimate of feminine assets.

You traced one finger over the sinuous line of the gown, cheeks flushing at the thought of donning something so overtly designed to stir the most primal of urges. But you were already in far too deep to consider turning back now.

With a fortifying inhalation, you quickly shimmied out of your work attire and stepped into the gown's silken embrace. It clung to your figure like a second skin sheathed in scarlet petals, trailing sinfully over the dips and flares of your body in a wholly indecent manner. A silent siren's call to avarice and covetous lust.

You twisted this way and that before the gilt mirror, admiring and scrutinizing in equal measures. The pendant lay in a plush pool amidst the exposed upper swell of your breasts, its dark crimson hue a bloody brand for any who dared let their eyes linger. Somehow, it felt as if the dress had been expressly crafted for this one accessory alone.

With one final bracing breath, you gathered your resolve and swept towards the door. Better to rejoin Chuuya and hope for an explanation than remain barricaded away like a shamed concubine.

He was lounging with deceptive indolence in one of the foyer's opulent winged-back chairs, long legs outstretched before him in an image of unconcerned elegance. Yet there was nothing casual in the unerring way his gaze locked upon you the moment you appeared. Like that of a serpent hypnotized by a clutch of trembling prey.

"My my..." Chuuya's voice was a raptor's caress, smooth and seductive yet edged with thinly veiled possession. "If I didn't know better, I might think you were trying to tempt me, doll."

You flushed hotly beneath his ravenous scrutiny, suddenly uncertain and deeply aware of your compromising state of undress. The satin caressed your too-warm skin in a simulation of covetous fingers, sending prickles of vaulting desire shivering along your nerve endings.

Chuuya rose from his seated position with leonine grace, eyes never straying from where they blazed scorching paths over your displayed charms. Each prowling step he took in your direction seemed to fill the air with static, raising the fine hairs along your arms and nape.

When at last he stood mere inches before you, near enough that his body heat lapped against you in smoky tendrils, you had to resist the urge to sway forwards. To seek the blistering burn of that intoxicating radiance you knew lurked beneath his composed veneer.

"Look at you..." he breathed, voice a graveled rasp of undisguised want. His knuckles grazed your jawline in a lingering caress. "A delicious temptation in scarlet and sin. Do you have any idea how utterly sexy you are right now?"

A tremulous shudder gripped you at his words, at the sinful admiration blazing from his darkened eyes. Unconsciously, you leaned deeper into the cupping warmth of his palm, chasing that delicious frisson of sensation.

Chuuya's lips curved in a devastatingly carnal smirk before he abruptly dropped his hand, leaving you starved for his scorching brand once more. You fought back the urge to whimper at the loss, cheeks flushing hotly as you recognized your body's dizzying desperation.

"We should get going," he murmured, the words at harsh odds with the smoky timbre of his tone that seemed to caress over your heated skin like a physical touch. "Our reservations won't wait forever, pet."

With that, he spun on his heel and began striding towards the still-open doors, clearly expecting you to follow on obediently stumbling footsteps. Which you did without a moment's hesitation, drawn after him like a reliably enraptured moth to a searing flame.

The limousine was awaiting in the circular front drive when you emerged, engine purring in anticipation. But it wasn't the plush leather interior or sparkling crystal tumblers that immediately captured your eye. Rather, it was the enormous cascade of crimson roses spilling from an ornate crystal vase positioned in the center of the seat.

Rich velvet petals unfurled in an exquisite profusion, each glistening with twinkling dew-kissed diamonds that glimmered with ethereal brilliance beneath the car's golden interior lighting. It was like glimpsing the secret, sinful heart of a fairytale forest come alive.

So enraptured were you by the display that you very nearly didn't register Chuuya's hand at your back, exerting firm pressure to guide you into the lush interior. With infinite care, he deposited you amidst the floral splendor before sliding in opposite with that catlike grace.

The heavy door sealed you both into the cocoon of velvet opulence with a sense of finality that resonated through your very marrow. Whatever game Chuuya was orchestrating was clearly reaching its dizzying crescendo.

You scarcely dared breathe, nerves thrilling with indecipherable tension as you watched Chuuya accept two crystal flutes from the cabine's mini-bar. The pale amber liquid sloshed enticingly as he handed one to you with a smoldering look of heated possession.

"A toast," he murmured, voice like lascivious sin poured straight into your ringing ears. "To an evening that will forever banish any lingering doubts as to whom you belong to, pet."

His glass knocked against yours with a delicate tinkling clink, the sound carrying the solemn weight of a death knell. Wordlessly, you tipped the liquor past your lips in a burning swallow, scarcely registering the flavors. You were anchored adrift atop a roiling sea of Chuuya's unfathomable intentions, awaiting his lead.

No sooner had you lowered the glass than Chuuya was reaching for you with rekindled intensity blazing in his stare. One broad palm cradled your nape as he drew you flush against the rigid line of his body, coaxing your knees to bracket his lean hips in a scandalously intimate straddle.

The sumptuous dress bunched and pooled around your thighs in a provocative tumble of scarlet silk. Chuuya's free hand traced the daring neckline, following the plunging curve to where the dusky hollow of your breasts was left enticingly bare.

Beneath his smoldering stare, each nerve seemed to awaken into blistering life, searing awareness streaking from nerve ending to nerve ending. His hungry exhale fanned hotly against your parted lips as his fingers drifted inevitable lower, tracing patterns of molten lust across the exposed flesh left on display.

"All mine..." he rasped, words interspersed with open-mouthed, scorching kisses along the thundering pulse at your throat. "Tonight, you'll see just how far I'm willing to go to ensure the whole city knows that truth."

With a groan, he dragged you harder against him, claiming your lips in a branding kiss of possession as the limo thrummed to purring life and pulled away into the night.

The limo carved through the city's pulsing arteries in a blur of neon and shadow. You remained utterly transfixed by Chuuya, drowning in the blazing intensity of his eyes as he held you immobile in his searing appraisal.

With each passing minute, the tension thickened until it felt like inhaling molten desire with every breath. Chuuya's hands roamed in unhurried exploration, igniting licking flames wherever his fingers grazed bare skin. You squirmed helplessly against him, silently beseeching for something more, anything to slake this new aching need coiling low in your belly.

At last, the limousine rolled to a smooth stop, the muffled thrum of music and voices spilling in from outside. Chuuya offered you a slow, sinful smile before capturing your lips in one more devouring kiss.

"Showtime, doll," he purred against your tingling mouth. "Try to keep up."

With a smooth flick of his wrist, he exited the vehicle in one fluid sweep, leather oxfords striking the pavement with muted clicks. You hurried to join him, breathless and flushed in anticipation of whatever depraved delights he had orchestrated.

The venue was spectacular, all vaulted glass ceilings and glittering contemporary opulence. Immaculately dressed attendants glided amongst the crowd, proffering crystal flutes of effervescent champagne from silver trays. It was the very vision of rarefied indulgence.

And at its throbbing epicenter stood Chuuya, an indolent panther lording over his sumptuous court. His arm snaked about your waist, pulling you flush against his side with blatant possession as his gaze dared anyone to so much as linger.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" he murmured, mouth brushing the curved shell of your ear in an electrifying caress. "Though perhaps not quite as exquisite as how utterly breathtaking you look in that dress, sweetheart."

His fingers traced the plunging neckline with bold defiance, allowing anyone keen enough to catch the implication. You flushed hotly, mortified yet undeniably thrilled by this new, unabashed dynamic unfolding between you.

For the rest of the evening, Chuuya remained your phantomlike shadow, perpetually orbiting just within your peripheral awareness. His eyes followed your every move, every laugh, with a smoldering heat that seemed to bore straight through muscle and bone. That collar of rubies glittered like a shocking wound against your throat with each breath.

You basked in the laser focus of his attention, a silent sun worshipper tilting to receive the benediction of its radiance. Never had you felt so fervently desired, coveted down to your very molecules. It was utterly, devastatingly intoxicating.

And as the night's dying embers sputtered towards its inevitable conclusion, Chuuya drew you close in a shadowed alcove, one broad palm cradling your nape as his lips brushed yours in barely-there whispers of heated promise.

"Do you understand now?" he rasped, the graveled words sending frissons of liquid rapture spilling through your veins. "There is no escaping me, no sanctuary from my passion. I will chase you into the very fires of hell itself, if that's what it takes to make you truly mine."

Helplessly, you whimpered against the scorching brand of his mouth, the need and naked adoration thrumming through your very marrow in answer. In that suspended moment of freefall, only one certainty reigned...

You were so completely, utterly his.

The crescendo of the evening had reached its feverish apex, suspending you and Chuuya in a gossamer bubble impervious to the outside world. His eyes burned with banked embers of undisguised want, rendering you breathless and utterly enthralled beneath their molten scrutiny.

"Come with me," he rumbled, the words both demand and seductive entreaty as he pulled you into the protective cage of his arms. You followed without hesitation, craving the scorching caress of his body like a moth drawn to the beckoning flame.

Chuuya led you through a discreet side door and into the velvet-draped intimacy of a private lounge area. Plush settees lined the perimeter, affording furtive glimpses into secluded little worlds of whispered secrets and sensual intrigue. Yet it was the massive picture window, revealing a panoramic vista of the glittering cityscape below, that enraptured you most.

With your back to the sparkling lights and Chuuya a solid immovable presence behind you, it felt as if you hovered betwixt two celestial planes - earthly rapture and heavenly transcendence. His hands found your waist, exerting gentle pressure until you swayed back against the unyielding strength of his chest.

"Look at them down there," he murmured, voice a darkly sensual caress against the sensitive whorls of your ear. "All those lost, empty souls going about their meaningless existences without the first notion of true passion."

You shivered at the stark devotion, the unvarnished ardor ringing in his tone. Chuuya's arms tightened around you in a possessive band, surrounding you in his scorching orbit until it felt like the only truth that mattered.

"They will never understand what it means to burn for someone the way I burn for you," he continued inexorably. "To have every waking breath consumed by an all-devouring yearning for just one perfect creature amidst the stars."

His lips branded searing trails from the fragile hollow beneath your ear down the slender column of your throat, each press of mouth to fevered skin both worship and carnal demand. You arched shamelessly into him, skin awakening in tingling waves of desperation for his touch, his mouth, his everything.

"You are my first and final ecstasy, sweetheart," Chuuya rasped against the thundering pulse at the base of your neck. "My religion, my rapture, my ritual of sanctification. Never forget that truth, no matter what sweet oblivion may try to tempt you."

He turned you then to face him fully, cradling your face between his calloused palms as if you were the most precious treasure to grace his world. For a suspended breath, you simply stared into the fathomless depths of his eyes, mesmerized by the eternal inferno of devotion banked within their crimson depths.

Then, as if pulled by cosmic tides, your bodies collided in a burningconflagration of hushed gasps and tangling limbs. Chuuya kissed you with all the passionate intensity of a man laying claim to his destiny, his universe. Lips, teeth, tongues - all merged into one searing brand of exquisite possession.

You clung to him helplessly, adrift on a roiling sea of desire and overwhelming reverence for this incredible man who cherished you so ferociously. If loving him was your sole purpose in this life, then you would count yourself among the luckiest souls in existence.

When the need for air finally became too urgent to ignore, you broke apart with trembling gasps. Chuuya immediately tucked you under his chin, rocking you both in slow, soothing sways as your ragged breaths slowly calmed.

"You're mine," he vowed once more, the words both fervent prayer and inviolable truth. "Every atom of your being calls to me, beguiles me, inflames me beyond the bounds of rational thought. I will spend eternity honoring that perfect siren's call."

Head bowed in reverence against the strength of his chest, you could only nod your wordless acquiescence, profoundly humbled and adored beyond your wildest capacity to comprehend. Safe amidst the sanctuary of Chuuya's ardor, you allowed your eyes to slip shut in serene contentment.

And somewhere within that transcendent moment, you knew without a shadow of doubt that you need never fear being lost again.

The world beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows blurred into abstract washes of light and shadow as you remained cocooned in Chuuya's steadfast embrace. In the whisper-soft atmosphere of the private lounge, time seemed to still to a gossamer trickle, each breath drawn out into subtle eternities.

Chuuya's fingers traced idle patterns along the exposed skin of your back, raising delicious frissons with every meandering caress. You basked in the exquisite torture of his wandering touch, every nerve ending alive and thrumming in hopeless supplication for more.

At long last, he drew back just enough to capture your rapt gaze, eyes blazing molten trails over the curves and hollows of your face.

"Do you understand now, my darling?" His low rasp danced like searing embers along your sensitized skin. "This rapture, this all-consuming ecstasy - it is both my prayer and my pyre. You are the divine flame to which I will gladly let my soul be immolated, again and again, until the end of eternity."

You could only nod, rendered breathless and incoherent by the sheer intensity of his veneration. But even that small acquiescence seemed to stoke Chuuya's ardor to blinding new infernos.

"Then let me worship you as you deserve," he growled, the words seeming to vibrate from that primal bassline resonating through his very core. "Allow me to pay tribute to your perfection in the only way that will ever suffice."

With agonizing deliberation, he sank to one knee before you in a stance of utter fealty. His scorching gaze roamed over your form, eyes glittering with unholyztradesty as they lingered on each newly bared expanse of skin revealed by the bunching fabric.

He pressed his lips to the ultra-sensitive skin of your inner thigh in a branding caress of reverence. "Every divine inch of you shall be adored as it deserves," Chuuya swore with hushed intensity. "Hallowed...consecrated...until you know nothing but the most exalted raptures this humble worshipper can provide."

A tremor of pure, potent yearning gripped you at his words, at the devoted promise woven through each sensual lilt and rumbling timbre. You reached for him with trembling hands, fingers tangling through his sweat-damp crimson locks as if to anchor him to you forever in this moment of transcendent bliss.

Chuuya's smoldering eyes flickered shut on a low groan of rapture as he turned into the caress. His palms mapped scorching paths up the curves of your calves and thighs in unhurried exploration, maddeningly drawing out each lascivious inch.

When his questing fingers finally brushed the apex of your thighs in a shockingly intimate caress, your knees threatened to buckle from the sheer intensity lancing through you. Only Chuuya's steadying grip on your hips kept you tethered against the relentless onslaught of sensation.

"So exquisite..." he rasped in awestruck wonder. "So utterly perfect in your rapture that I fear my insignificant skills are blasphemously inadequate to honor you properly, my goddess."

You struggled to formulate a coherent response, to beg and plead for him to take you past the dizzying precipice, but all that escaped was a tremulous keen of plaintive yearning. Instead you resorted to guiding his seeking hand with shallow, sporadic bucks of your hips, silently beseeching him for that elusive, maddening friction that would finally shatter you apart.

Even in your rapidly fracturing state, you felt the volcanic upheaval of Chuuya's restraint at the explicit demand. He actually growled against the satin skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing harsh and unforgiving in clear punishment. Or perhaps rapturous benediction - with this man, it became increasingly difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

"Patience, my perfect temptation," he purred in a voice shredded by banked embers of desire. "The ecstasy I have planned for your undoing demands an eternity of exquisite suffering first."

Leaning forward, he lay another searing trail of open-mouthed kisses along the taut swells and shadowed valleys of your desire. Each brand of his lips stoked the inferno of your aching need higher and higher until you thought you would be consumed by the flames.

At last, when you thought the tension might shatter you asunder, Chuuya's questing fingers hooked the delicate silk of your panties, dragging the flimsy garment down your trembling thighs. The fabric fell away to a puddle of scarlet and ivory about your feet.

You could hear the hitch in his breathing, a stuttered inhale of sheer reverence and lust. Chuuya pressed another fervent kiss to the crest of your hip, the action a silent supplication to the divine. Then, with agonizing care, he slid the silken fabric of the dress up the curve of your hips until it rested high on your waist.

You gasped at the sudden rush of cool air against your feverish flesh, cheeks burning at the brazen exposure of your most intimate areas. Yet the momentary flash of mortification quickly dissolved beneath the heady rush of desire and the molten blaze of Chuuya's stare.

His pupils were blown wide, devouring any trace of blue in his eyes until they gleamed blacker than pitch. A low groan emanated from deep within his chest as he traced one long finger through the slick arousal glistening upon your quivering thighs.

"Exquisite," he rasped, the word a breathless prayer on his tongue. "Such perfect, unspoiled purity laid bare before me. Let us see just how far my goddess will let this humble supplicant push her."

Without preamble, Chuuya's hands curled around the backs of your thighs, lifting and guiding you into the cradle of his arms with unwavering certainty. Then, with a low growl, he pressed his open mouth against the aching swell of your desire.

It was the only warning you received before his tongue swept up the length of your folds in a languid, decadent caress. The searing contact ripped a cry from your throat, the sound swallowed in the plush darkness of the room.

Chuuya hummed his own rapturous approval, the vibrations resonating through your very core in waves of liquid heat. Then he was tracing teasing patterns along your swollen flesh, lapping up each fresh wave of moisture like a parched man at an oasis.

Every nerve was electrified, thrumming and humming with each lick and swirl and nip of his tongue. Chuuya seemed content to take his time, coaxing the most decadent sounds from your lips as you writhed against him, helpless and desperate.

His fingers dug bruising crescents into the soft skin of your thighs, keeping you in place for his ravenous exploration. And as his tongue delved deeper, sliding and thrusting against your throbbing entrance, you felt yourself begin to spiral higher and higher.

"That's it, my perfect goddess," he groaned against you. "Show me just how beautiful you are in the throes of ecstasy."

With those murmured words, he returned his focus to the pulsing pearl at the apex of your thighs. He alternated between suckling the sensitive bundle and laving over it with broad strokes. Each caress sent you spiraling higher and higher, closer and closer to the brink of oblivion.

Just when you thought you might combust from the sheer intensity of it all, Chuuya sealed his mouth around the pulsing jewel, fluttering his tongue over the straining point in rapid, unrelenting strokes. The added stimulation sent you hurtling towards the precipice, crashing and tumbling in a freefall of white-hot pleasure.

You shattered apart, vision going white as the force of the release crashed over you in endless waves. Somewhere in the distance, you were vaguely aware of Chuuya's rumbling groan of triumph, the feel of his fingers tightening into a punishing brand against your thighs.

Your muscles clenched and quivered in helpless spasms as the aftershocks shuddered through you, leaving you sated and spent. Slowly, Chuuya guided you back to earth, kissing and stroking until the world re-emerged from behind a gauzy curtain of euphoria.

He pulled you close as you came back to yourself, murmuring soft words of praise and adoration as he pressed reverent kisses to your temple. You melted into him, boneless and pliant as the blissful lethargy set in.

"My beautiful, exquisite angel," he rumbled in a graveled whisper, lips tracing the shell of your ear in a sinfully sensual caress. "Now it's my turn to show you how perfect you are in my eyes, just the way you are."

Chuuya's declaration resonated through you like the ringing echo of a divine proclamation. You turned to face him, wanting to drink in the raw devotion and passion burning in his eyes.

But the moment you met his searing gaze, all thoughts of sweet adoration and poetic worship fled, replaced by a blistering inferno of primal desire. Chuuya's eyes raked over your face with such molten hunger, such naked want, that a frisson of electricity jolted down your spine.

In an instant, he was pressing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss of carnal possession. The taste of yourself on his tongue was both sinfully salacious and exquisitely erotic. You could do nothing but yield, helplessly enthralled by the raw intensity of his need.

Chuuya's hand wound itself into the disheveled locks of your hair, pulling your head back to deepen the kiss. He swallowed your keening moan of pleasure with a rumbling growl, devouring your mouth as if starved for the very taste of you.

His other hand fisted in the delicate satin, bunching the material in a vice-like grip until you could feel the cool night air dancing along the heated skin of your exposed ass. The sudden awareness of the scandalous, vulnerable position only stoked the inferno higher, sending new rivulets of slick dripping from your pulsing core.

"Such a good girl for me," Chuuya breathed, voice ragged and darkly sensual as he dragged his lips down the column of your throat. "Always so willing to spread those pretty thighs and offer yourself up to me."

The words resonated through your every molecule, echoing the primal rhythm thrumming in your very veins. You whimpered, arching against him in wordless supplication, desperate for him to take you and brand you as his.

Chuuya answered with a guttural snarl, the sound primal and possessive. He surged to his feet in one smooth motion, lifting you with him. You clung to him instinctively, legs wrapping around his narrow waist in a desperate bid to anchor yourself against the blistering tide of desire.

Then his cock was brushing against you, the velvet-soft skin stretched taught and hot against the wetness pooling between your thighs. Chuuya's hand slipped down, aligning his hard length with your entrance before slowly, torturously sinking into the wet heat.

Your head fell back on a moan as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you so perfectly. For a moment, all you could do was cling to him and try to regain a semblance of breath. But then Chuuya began moving, rocking his hips in shallow, experimental thrusts.

His pace was slow and measured, each stroke a delicious torment that left you trembling and gasping. Chuuya's grip on you was punishing, fingertips digging into the supple flesh of your ass. You could feel the tension in his powerful frame, the way each muscle strained and coiled beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

But no matter how desperately you writhed against him, how tightly you gripped his shoulders, Chuuya refused to relinquish control. Instead, he kept his movements infuriatingly slow and languorous, each unhurried glide sending you further and further towards the edge.

"Chuuya, please," you whimpered, shamelessly rutting against him in search of more. "I need -"

"Shhh, doll," he soothed, the words punctuated with a low grunt as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you. But I want to savor this perfect moment."

The raw emotion in his tone sent a shiver racing down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You tightened your hold on his shoulders, nails scoring thin lines into the muscled flesh.

"Look out the window," Chuuya commanded, voice a low rasp of lust-drunk rapture. "Watch as the whole city bears witness to how beautifully you come apart for me."

Dazed and dizzy with desire, you forced your gaze to lift, drinking in the stunning panorama before you. It was a glittering expanse of lights and shadow, an entire cityscape laid bare for your viewing pleasure. And it was then that the true weight of Chuuya's command sank in.

Every facet of your pleasure was on display, an obscene spectacle for the entire city to witness. Anyone looking up from the street below would be treated to the lurid sight of your flushed, debauched body, writhing and arching against Chuuya in a frenzied state of utter wanton need.

Your inner walls fluttered and clenched, a rush of new heat and slick coating Chuuya's throbbing cock at the thought. He groaned at the sensation, a sound both exultant and agonized.

"Such a perfect little angel, aren't you?" His words were a darkly reverent growl, sending a fresh wave of pleasure jolting through you. "Let's put on a good show for them, sweetheart. Show them just who it is you belong to."

Chuuya's words were the final catalyst. The coil of tension wound within you snapped, sending you crashing and tumbling over the precipice. You cried out, a sound of pure rapture, as the waves of release washed over you in shuddering, relentless crests.

Dimly, you were aware of Chuuya's answering snarl, the harsh sting of teeth against the tender skin of your neck. His movements grew frantic, losing all trace of that practiced control as he chased his own climax.

His cock pulsed and twitched within you, each jerk and spasm intensifying your own pleasure. You rocked your hips against him, grinding yourself against the hard planes of his body. The additional friction pushed you right back to the precipice, poised on that shimmering knife's edge.

A single, well-placed thrust was all it took to send you spiraling into the abyss once more. Your teeth sunk into Chuuya's shoulder, muffling your wail of ecstasy as a gush of pure, hot liquid sprayed from your entrance, coating his thighs and cock in a torrential stream.

"Oh fuck, baby girl!" he grunted, burying himself as deep as possible as he found his own release. "Did you just -"

"Yes!" You sobbed, the word a strangled half-whisper as another rush of liquid gushed out. "Oh god, yes!"

Chuuya swore, hips jerking sporadically as he rode out the last tremors of his own orgasm. Then his arms tightened around you, cradling you against his chest in a protective band. His breath ghosted across your ear, a soothing murmur of praise and adoration.

"You're perfect, sweetheart. So utterly fucking perfect in every way. God, the things you do to me..." His voice trailed off into a groan of satisfaction as he pressed his forehead to yours, gazing into your eyes with such profound adoration that you thought your heart might shatter from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

"Never forget who you belong to, pet," he vowed, the words resonating with solemn promise. "I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if I have to."

In the ensuing hush, the only sound was the slowing of your mingled breathing, the soft rustle of Chuuya's clothing as he adjusted his hold on you. Slowly, he lowered you until your feet touched the floor, steadying you with an arm wrapped about your waist.

You blinked up at him, a dreamy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The sight seemed to pull something loose within Chuuya's chest, the man giving a contented sigh.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, tenderly cupping your face. "Now let's get you home so I can continue worshipping this perfect body, just the way it deserves."

[choerypetal]

Little Bird / Coriolanus Snow

summary: Being the Capitol's favorites subject has consequences. Consequences that subject to be paired with the most influential man in Panem entirely.

notes **reader is an idol/singer in Capitol's first attempt into making a group for each annual Hunger Games. but with snow's obsession into making you entirely his and with his job as mentoring lucy gray, he tries his very best, but fails miserably.

ps ; english isn't my first language so i apologize in advance for some minor errors and please do not copy my work without credit thank you!

Your connection with Snow encompassed diverse facets. At times, he exuded an irresistible charm, drawing you in effortlessly. Yet, in the next moment, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with audacious intent, as if daring anyone to approach and touch even the slightest expanse of your skin – a challenge few would ever contemplate. 

Being the Capitol's favorite came with its own set of challenges. Compliments on your skills or charisma were either sincere or fueled by envy, making it doubly difficult for those striving to surpass their yearly earnings. This aspect of Panem's functioning was something Coriolanus exploited way too much. The artificiality of the stage, adorned with makeup to project an illusion of wealth, highlighted what he found enduring. The ease with which one could become the favorite by merely speaking or moving to the latest musical rhythm was something Coriolanus himself could not keep his eyes away from. And that person was you. 

He despised witnessing other men vying for your attention, their eyes lighting up as soon as you entered the Capitol's theater. There was no denying that you were the favorite member among your group. However, during your debut, the spotlight only found you officially when it was announced that the Capitol's new favorite group would be welcoming a new member. Given your position at the Academy, your choices were limited – either mentoring a tribute and risk bringing shame to your family if they lost. Or become part of Panem's newest favored diversion. It wasn’t until the very next day, that many became obsessed with you. And as much as Coriolanus tried to oblige on that single though, he was afraid to admit that he too became a little too obsessed over you. 

To compound Coriolanus's discomfort, he had to endure the ceaseless styling rituals accompanying each new album or song released to the public. This entailed donning short skirts and crops, transforming your body into a specific attire as a statue to be admired for hours on end. For the hapless Coriolanus, sitting there was challenging enough, watching you perform with a self-assured smirk, reveling in every bit of skin. How the skirt would flare up and brush against your skin, how he wanted to feel such fantasy. From each moments of your act, while beads of sweat glistened across every inch of your body. He couldn't help but fantasize scenarios from scenarios that you would be his, envisioning the two most influential figures of the Capitol as the perfect pair. And that was only during the ceremony of the 10th Hunger Games. 

Post the 10th Hunger Games, a significant shift occurred. Lucy Gray's presence lingered in Coriolanus's thoughts, causing him to perceive you in a completely new light. You were constantly in his mind. Although you though, with hearing the constant rumors of a possible relationship between him and his tribute. While you continued to excel in your performances, earning the success both you and your group rightfully deserved, you were aware of Coriolanus's altered fate.

Once he had been sent back to District 12 after his victor, Lucy Gray, who was also a performer. He remembered occasionally, after the victory ceremony, how you had the opportunity to chat with Lucy Gray. Discovering that your old classmate may have developed feelings for her. As Coriolanus Snow’s proud smirk upon seeing the people he seemingly cared for interacting with each other. Only to be so blind by the fact that you had expressed prior feelings for him, but instead confidently expressed his plan to join forces and visit her in her District wasn’t what you had intended to hear. 

While you refrained from expressing any objections, your suspicions regarding the burgeoning emotions between the two of them proved well-founded. Little did you know, Coriolanus engaged in those actions merely to divert his thoughts from you, acknowledging he wouldn't have a chance with you. Lucy Gray became his chosen distraction. Simultaneously, he caught wind of a potential rumor suggesting you were seen intimately with another man. The revelation that this man wasn't him intensified his already pronounced obsession with you. However, this time, Lucy Gray played a role in assisting him.

The revelation of his truth dawned on him only upon his return to Panem. The snake bite's impact intensified, with only your silhouette haunting his thoughts. In this return, he presented a wholly transformed appearance – his hair slightly longer, adorned in his father's old crimson jacket, albeit somewhat intoxicated, attempting to erase all memory of you. What Snow remained oblivious to was your patient anticipation during his absence in District 12. It was Tigris who knocked on your door that very evening, sparing you from the surprise of his return. 

However, Snow chose to make his entrance at the stroke of midnight, reminiscent of the times when both of you would clandestinely navigate the Academy. In those intimate moments, he patiently bided his time for the Capitol streets to empty, stealthily entering through your bedroom window. Hours were spent in each other's arms, reveling in discussions about new projects, with his assurances that everything would be alright.

This time, however, an inebriated Snow had a different agenda beyond comforting cuddles for sleepless nights. His primary goal was to solidify your relationship officially. "If you don’t tell her, I will." Echoed Tigris’s voice in his mind upon seeing her cousin return from duty as a Peacekeeper. She was among the few who truly knew about the budding romantic connection between Coriolanus and you. She pleaded with her cousin to go ahead, noting. "She hasn't touched a man since the last time you spoke, you know." That last statement served as a testament to your unwavering fidelity towards him. It was only a matter of time before he knocked on your door that very night.

On the contrary, you took it upon yourself to tidy up the entire apartment. Anticipating Coriolanus's return, you were determined not to leave a single mess, mindful of both his and your own peace of mind. Despite the fact that chaos often defined your shared living space, when in each other's arms, you both found solace in tidiness and tranquility. However, as dinner passed and bedtime approached, you couldn't help but notice Coriolanus's absence. Was he running late, or was he entangled in some trouble that you would only learn about the next morning? Various questions raced through your mind as you attempted to drift off helplessly on the living room couch, with the TV's echo serving as a backdrop.

Coriolanus stood there silently, observing from a distance outside your apartment window. Anyone observing from afar would catch a glimpse of you nibbling at your cuticles – a habit he had learned you indulged in when he wasn't around, a realization that would later make him feel remorseful upon witnessing the marks it left on your fingers. In response, he would tenderly peck each bruise, a silent acknowledgment of your thoughts mirroring his own. However, this time, he chose to forgo surprising you with the cliché bouquet of flowers or any conventional gesture. After indulging in the contents of a second wine bottle before making his way to you, he had no plans of raiding the florist shop either. Knocking on your door with determination, he felt an unusual hesitation, a departure from his past boldness of entering and showering you with kisses. Contemplating the prospect of declaring you entirely as his, especially in his inebriated state, he wasn't entirely certain if you would fully trust his words. 

Luckily, you had left the door ajar for him, a gesture he expected. Upon entering, he was met with the familiar background echo of the TV, confirming his assumption that you were already asleep. Nostalgia washed over him as he recalled the mornings spent lounging in bed with you or embarking on early runs for coffee. Despite his aspirations to bring about change in Panem and restore his family's reputation by aspiring to become President, he understood that true fulfillment wouldn't come until he had you by his side entirely. Limping slightly due to the effects of his drunkenness, he made his way into the living room and began to softly whisper your name, until his gaze met your sleeping figure. "Y/N... My sweet bird."

His breath carried warmth that gently brushed against your cold skin. Despite the lingering scent of alcohol, indicating Snow had been drinking before his arrival, your eyes responded to the touch of his finger delicately tracing your cheek. "Coryo…" you murmured his name with a loving tone, reveling in the vulnerability of calling out to him. "Shh… I am here," he reassured you, prompting a soft smile to grace your lips at the sound of his comforting voice. A voice you had missed dearly, compelling you to slowly rise from the much-needed slumber after a demanding day. However, lately, without Snow's presence in your arms, the nights became sleepless and challenging to endure alone. Despite acknowledging this truth, there was a conflicting sensation, a twinge of discomfort knowing that Coriolanus relished the fact that without him, you felt incomplete. It was this dynamic that rendered the two of you an unforgettable pair, seemingly inseparable. 

“How I missed you so much.” He continued to say, with seeing your face arousing from your slumber, how he had missed kissing your soft lips each night before going to sleep. If it wasn’t for being a Peacekeeper back in District 12, he’d say he was damn for letting himself kiss Lucy Gray while thinking of you the entire time. “I missed you more, Coryo. Everytime, during performances and even in my relentless dreams.” 

A subtle smile played on his features as his fingers traced down your body, an unspoken desire evident in his every touch. His lips yearned to kiss every inch, a longing to finally claim you as his own. He envisioned proudly holding your hand in public, marking you as his and sending a clear message to other men about your ownership. "You want to know something?" The amusement in his voice prompted a soft giggle from you, appreciating his seemingly all-knowing manner of sharing information, despite the evident effects of his earlier drinking. "What, drunk boy?" You playfully teased, noting the light pink hue that adorned his cheeks—a clear sign of his inebriation. 

He vehemently denied it with a pout, his lips subtly mimicking a desire for a kiss. Coryo was just touch starved. "You know, I haven't been properly fed with love lately. Coryo has been away from his bird for far too long..." His voice deepened, the intensity of his gaze barely allowing for a blink, making it abundantly clear who he desired: you. An intensifying blush crept on your features this time. Of course you knew your history with him, a caring gentleman who made sure to take care of the one he loved most. But this Coriolanus, objected something in you that you enjoyed seeing probably a little more. To be completely under his control. To bow to his command. 

"And as much as I hate to admit..." Your voice took on a gentle tone, a stark contrast to the confidence you exuded in the public eye. Sensing his fingers trailing down your body, from your hips to your lips, he couldn't help but notice their softness, prepared to be pampered at his command. However, he had to restrain his temptations for a moment, feeling his teeth sink into the bottom of his lip. You continued. "I might have been a naughty bird, moaning your name during sleepless nights, hoping you'd come save me from my little cage. You have no idea how eagerly I waited for you to come back." 

Honestly, Coriolanus found himself just as taken aback by your confession, despite the obvious history between the two of you. The mere thought of you in bed, adorned in barely anything, accentuating your beautiful form, fingers exploring sensually. The vivid image of you pleasuring yourself, uttering his name amidst a chorus of enticing sounds, drove him to instant madness. Tonight, he was determined to lavish you with everything he could muster—to claim you as his own, leaving marks on your body that not even the most skilled makeup artist could conceal come morning. Without explicitly professing love in the conventional sense, it was evident that Coriolanus and you were destined to be together. In times of need or distraction, both of you instinctively knew where to find solace in each other's presence. 

"I want you, Coryo..." you pleaded, your fingers clutching his shirt, the skirt from today's performance riding up slightly. Upon arriving from work, you had removed your underwear just for him—his eyes alone to witness, taste, and appreciate. His hands gripped firmly on your arse, and it was his turn to shift positions, settling onto the couch with you atop him. Your blouse, with a revealing cleavage, owed its allure to Tigris, your stylist. You couldn't help but wonder if the same effect would have been achieved without her touch. Extricating yourself from his grasp, you observed his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. It was a smirk that served as a reminder, and in that instant, you knew that tonight, you were unequivocally his—his and his alone, his cherished little bird.

"I can't wait to finally show my little bird what I can do."

Coriolanus spoke those words with genuine anticipation. It was undeniably the most memorable night, and he intended to recreate it repeatedly. After all, you were his little bird—his to cherish, tourmate, and play with as he pleased.

[lessi-lover]

jealous darling? II l.williamson x reader

★ jealous darling? II l. williamson x reader

your heart swelled with pride whenever you watched your favourite blonde play, especially in those times when the defender had her best moments. there was a magnetic energy about her on the pitch, she was nothing short of extraordinary on the field, a force to be reckoned with in the world of football. her skills were unparalleled, and her determination was unmatched. with a ball at her feet, she gracefully glided across the grass, making every movement seem effortless, yet incredibly precise.

today, she played exceptionally well, making smart passes and moving up the pitch when needed, showcasing her ability in all areas of the sport. you had always enjoyed watching the game from afar, but seeing her play brought an entirely new level of joy towards the english sport. as the match ended with a 4-1 score, you joined the other family of the players on the pitch to celebrate the win. wearing her number and name proudly on your back, you couldn't help but beam as you spotted her jumping up and down with her teammates. her face lit up upon seeing you, and she climbed over the barrier with a large grin that showed her post-match high.

"you were outstanding, as always, williamson," you complimented her as she reached you. her smile widened at your words, but not before telling you off for the replacement of her favourite name, - babe. feeling like you were sorry enough, she leaned in and smashed her lips against yours for a special celebration kiss. "your into the semi's!" you exclaimed joyously, her excitement visible from head to toe. "and you're wearing my shirt," she responded, clearly delighted at your choice of clothing. you giggled at her energy, her gaze never wavered from you, admiration evident on her features.

she pulled you in close to her arms, voice carrying a sense of intimacy that made your stomach flip. "couldn’t have done it without you my girl," she murmured against your lips, her proud smile never doubtful. 

"it was all you, my love. I just showed up," you chuckled, reaching up to peck her still red and puffy cheeks. "you played so well." "thankyou," she blushed slightly at your praise, grin never fading as she tucked her head tightly into your shoulder. "did you enjoy the game?" she asked, her eyes searching for any sign that you hadn’t had fun. it was her caring nature that made you love her ten times more.

"always. i love watching you play, leah," you replied and her heart swelled at your confession. ”Cmon, let's get out here.” she whispered into your ear, quickly collecting your stuff and making your way out of the stands.

_____________

the celebrations continued for hours after the game, many of the arsenal crew - including you and leah, had organised to have a gathering in a quiet bar you were all familiar with. unfortunately, this resulted in a lot of alcohol being passed around, which meant the majority of the celebrants were teetering on the edge of full-blown drunkenness, something the blonde wasn’t too fond of participating in the middle of a season.

you found yourself heavily engaged in an intense debate on why spitting on the pitch is a complete ick, between the new ‘it couple’ of the arsenal squad - caitlin & katie. “it’s not on purpose, it just happens.” katie defended, her accent somehow even thicker at the unhealthy amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night. revelling in the playful banter you were able to create, you added that “it’s not impossible to not do it," and that you had successfully managed to get your stubborn girlfriend to quit it. amidst the laughter and lively conversation, you felt a pair of familiar hands wrap tightly around your hips. 

"leah!" katie greeted her. "have you come to save me from your dreadful girlfriend? I swear all she does is complain." katie joked, jabbing you lightly in the shoulder, which resulted in a glare from you. "she's gorgeous, so watch your mouth miss yellow card." leah retorted, referring to the yellow card the left-winger had received in the game against brighton.

"i'm afraid I have to end your little debate though, sorry girls." katie grabbed caitlin's hand leading them away, but not before brushing passed the blonde, whispering something in her ear. her grip became more and more possessive, as she pulled you even closer into her body. she led you away, pulling you into an empty room, seeking a little bit of quietness, all the loud bar sounds. making it hard for you to hear each other "what's wrong, my love?" you asked, trying to remember what happened during the night, if anything had upset your favourite girl. she held you firmly, arms tightly secured around your waist. "you're mine." she murmured against your neck, her tone possessive yet still loving. "i only want you to celebrate with me.” Her voice carried a subtle pout, eyes fixated on you as though you were her entire world - you were. 

"feeling possessive today, are we?" you teased, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. leah made a dismissive noise, clearly unfazed by your sudden brattiness, - she'd deal with that later. “stupid katie," she muttered, peppering soft kisses on your collarbones. "what did she say to you?" you questioned, intrigued at whatever the blonde would say next. "don’t worry about it, not important," she replied, obviously more engaged in making out with your neck, instead of answering you. snd there it was, clear as day, - jealousy. s newfound trait, which intrigued you to try and see how far the girl would go. "jealous, darling?" you teased, your eyes glinting playfully. “it’s baby to you.” she scolded. amused by her sudden possessiveness, you continued to tease her, your grin unwavering. "perhaps you're just jealous because you've never outplayed katie in the midfield," you said, the smile on your face matching your teasing tone. 

how much could you wind up the blonde you wondered."you're mine, don’t forget it." she responded simply, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

[wispythreads]

I did catch on to that part of it with him bouncing between jobs so frequently, and some of the other things like the fridge freezer, but they were still included in the jumbled up thoughts I listed out partly because I was thinking about them before coming to an answer, and partly because I'm not fully sure if those answers are all there is to it.

Cause, yeah, there’s the newspaper clipping rebuking him for being “unprofessional and brash” (which damn that’s also just rotating in my head because Vince was clearly reading this specific clipping earlier and blatantly lied saying Rody hadn’t been mentioned at all, later scribbling out the section talking about the waiter), he’s very clearly messy and unkempt in pretty much every aspect of his life, and even if he gets the to-go question right in the tutorial, Vince appends the "Good work." with "keep tone in mind."

But, the thing is, he does know a lot of the basics. Much of the tutorial is really just for the benefit of the player to know how the mechanics of the game works, Rody meanwhile nods along and does whatever task is needed without comment, only getting tripped up when Vince mentions the way the menu for his bistro works, and when the aforementioned customer asked if he could get boxes to go or call in his order ahead of time. Which I think are reasonable things to get tripped up on! Those seem like things that would vary depending on the establishment he was working for.

I keep thinking about his reaction when Vince pivoted the conversation of "do you actually like your job" onto Rody. His awkward response that it paid him money. Vince voicing specifically “I doubt you wanted to wait tables for a living-”, and that being met with how there was “something” Rody went to school for, that he was too hesitant to tell Vince, feeling he’d get made fun of. The impression that its some passion he had that just didn't work out. The revelation later that the “something” in question was him majoring in hospitality.

He was afraid he'd be made fun of for actively going to school and choosing to study for skills that, either ironically or purposefully, would've been useful for his current job of waiting tables. A goal that he flunked out of. He has had 28 jobs in the service industry over the course of 7 years. He keeps losing his job, but he also keeps getting hired.

I keep thinking of the post-credits scene of the Best Served Hot, whisky lemon cake ending. "I can't keep watching you ruin any semblance of progress you make with yourself while trying to make me happy, it's exhausting-"

He's only 4 days into this job when he approaches Vince for a raise. He already figures he'll have enough to do something nice for Manon, his "girlfriend," by the end of the week, but he wants more to make it really special. He is very clearly told 'no.'

On the 5th day, when his shift is finally over and done, we don't next see him as we usually do, back at his apartment. He's still at the bistro, all the lights turned out. The only other person presumably being Vince hacking away at the meat in the freezer that'll be used for the meals in the morning. The first time I went through that night, I presumed Rody had just been selected to stay late and help clean up for the night, with whatever Vince was doing in the background ominous horror ambience to be unsettled by.

But we can't really do anything while there that would support this initial assumption. There are only two things you can do. Snoop around in Vince's office, and... steal from the cash register. Whether you avoid doing the latter as I did or not, it has no bearing on whatever ending you get, but just the fact that it's even an option to Rody...

How many other times did he allow his love for Manon to rule over his decisions, making choices in the pursuit of what he believed would make her happy, no matter the cost, before finally facing a price for his obsession beyond the scope of his worst nightmares?

...

And after all that I do want to defend the rollerskates a bit because

Rollerskates in restaurants are kinda a thing, in the 1960s (the year this game is set) they were a pretty popular gimmick/tool for diners in the U.S. at least, not sure about elsewhere in the world unfortunately

Yeah he canonically brought and proceeded to wear rollerskates to work at a fancy bistro. But that also means Vince watched him show up to work one day, wearing rollerskates, and just let him do it. Just watched Rody roll around his fancy bistro attending to customers that expect the highest of professionalism, and said nothing.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcannons

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Growing up, Lorenzo is constantly neglected by his mother

He's also very often compared to Mattheo or his cousin Draco

Despite the open disdain from his mother, Lorenzo remains rather bright and good-natured

He gets branded as "the weak link" pretty early on

Still he remains extremely close with both boys as they grow up together (just because they're treated better, doesn't mean they're treated well)

As he gets older, he develops a certain bite to him

There's power that comes with being constantly underestimated and overlooked

Of course he might seem like the softest among the three, but how soft can you really be when comparing three stone cold boulders?

Lorenzo is sweet, charming, and charismatic with a dazzling smile

But that's just to lure you into a false sense of security

Like Draco, Lorenzo also has a tendency to preen

Because he never really received any type of validation from his mother, he has to get it from somewhere

He especially likes the attention he gets from the female population of Hogwarts (he's always been a bit of a romantic)

Lorenzo is openly flirtatious

And he quickly earns the label of "heartbreaker"

It might not be him, but the labels give him some kind of identity at least

While he was no one's first pick at home, he gets attention here

And he likes it

He also becomes very close with Theodore Nott very quickly

He admires his intellect and his preference to hide in plain sight

There might be a bit of jealousy boiling under the surface at his friend's indifference towards the spot light

What Lorenzo lacks in intellect and book smarts, he makes up for with grueling hard work

People often assume that he wouldn't be one to lift so much as a finger

But there's a lot of work that goes into being seemingly perfect all the time

Maybe that's why he grows to love herbology

An unsuspecting choice for Hogwart's resident "pretty boy"

But it's messy and dirty and surprisingly complex

And Lorenzo loves it

He loves pouring all of his focus and energy into growing something beautiful (and preferably deadly)

Because if there's one thing he knows, it's the endless pitfall that comes with trying to please someone you'll never truly be able to win over

That's probably what initially attracts him to you

He's not interested in games, in girls playing hard to get, or any of the emotional whiplash

But he's not overly invested in any of the girls throwing themselves at him either

You see him, and you're simply you

You don't make him jump through hoops, and you don't giggle lifelessly at every word that comes out of his mouth, and he simply adores you for it

It takes a bit for him to convince you that he’s serious about you

But once he does, he treats you like the perfect gentleman

100% wants to sweep you off your feet

Also VERY overprotective/territorial

Secretly terrified that you’ll leave once you find someone better

Once you realize it though, you make certain that he knows that he’s the only one for you

And he revels in it

He’s normally a social butterfly, except with you

He’s content to spend hours, days with just you

He’s just happy to have found someone to love him unconditionally

[alwaysmicado]

smile, baby

5.1k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, drinking, degradation, orgasm denial, masturbation (m), spitting, big fat cumshot Summary: Nathan teaches you a lesson in submission. You hate love it. A/N: Filth with heart. I can't be normal about this man, okay? Can be read alone or as a prequel to in control and predator & prey. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 🤍

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off.”

– – –

“What are we doing tonight?” You sit down on the couch beside Nathan, a glass of wine in hand. 

“I’m watching TV,” he answers coldly without as much as a glance in your direction.

“Hmm…okay,” you murmur. You take a generous sip from your glass, appreciating Nathan’s excellent taste in wine. It’s your favorite; you discovered it on a trip to France during your college years and haven’t been able to find it since then. 

What an incredible coincidence that he would just have it here, right?

Not right.

Unbeknownst to you, Nathan meticulously arranged every single detail of your living environment before you even crossed the threshold of his mansion for the first time. 

The exquisite wine you now sip, seemingly a stroke of luck, was deliberately stocked to align with your taste. Much like the lavender shampoo that envelops you in its soothing fragrance during each shower, the never-ending supply of fresh strawberries, and the perpetually replenishing KitKats in your minibar, each aspect of your surroundings has been carefully curated to ensure your every comfort is met.

You haven’t really picked up on that fact yet, as you’re still in the process of settling into your new, exciting, but overwhelming environment.

In the two weeks since moving in, you’ve immersed yourself in the intricacies of artificial intelligence, navigating the uncharted waters of innovation under Nathan’s eccentric mentorship.

And eccentric, he is.

It took you five minutes of mostly one-sided conversation to realize that his intellect, an unmatched force of brilliance, is rivaled only by the staggering magnitude of his ego.

And, even more strikingly, it took you just as little time to realize you’ve never craved another human being as badly as you do him. There’s just something about him…beneath all the arrogance and assholery. You can’t put your finger on it, but you feel it’s there.

Nathan sensed your immediate attraction to him, of course, reading your microexpressions and body language. And after a few days of subtle teasing, he decided to give you a small taste of pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of, only to leave you without it for the past week since then.

Beyond lingering glances, the subtle brush of his hand against the small of your back in the kitchen, the knowing smirk when he catches you stealing glances at the bulge in his shorts, or his deliberate choice to work out shirtless—Nathan has been purposefully cold, relishing in your growing desperation.

For him, this is more than a game; he revels in a level of amusement he hasn’t experienced in years.

He could never get the androids to look at him with the same intensity, hunger, and raw need he can see in your eyes, and the control he now holds over your desires is a source of unparalleled satisfaction.

He definitely made the right choice by selecting you.

Nestling your feet under you in an attempt to find comfort on the cushion, you silently study your boss’s profile, observing as he brings the fourth bottle of beer to his lips. Your eyes slowly trace the distinct contours of his nose, the meticulous lines of his beard, the strength evident in his neck and shoulders, until they finally reach the casual sprawl of his naked feet at rest on the coffee table.

His lidded eyes remain unwaveringly fixated on the screen as he leisurely surfs through the channels, a deliberate act of indifference that extends to ignoring your presence. You nervously chew on your lip, trying your hardest not to break the silence first, even though you so obviously want to.

Seemingly absorbed in the movie he settled on, Nathan is keenly aware of your eyes repeatedly drifting towards him, lingering for a few seconds before retreating reluctantly back to the indifferent glow of the screen. 

You’re so cute when you’re trying to be coy. 

“Did you think of me?” he asks suddenly, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Did I…huh?” you respond, startled, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He turns his head to look at you, his face revealing no emotion, his dark eyes piercing yours. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze drops to your lips for a split second before finding your sparkling eyes again. 

“When you were fucking yourself with that purple dildo last night. Did you think of me?” He peers at you with a straight face, casually taking another sip from his bottle. 

“Wha–”

Your heart skips a beat, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks as his words hang in the air. Shocked and exposed, your eyes widen, and your body tenses. After a few endless seconds, surprise turns into a mixture of anger and humiliation as you figure out how he knows.

Mother. Fucker. There’s a fucking camera in your room.

“No need to act embarrassed, baby,” he scoffs. “You put on quite a show.”

“It’s not technically a show when I’m unaware that my pervy boss is watching me, though, is it?” you snap at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well. It’s all in the NDA you signed.”

“Oh, of course it is,” you chuckle incredulously, looking up at the high ceiling of the living room. 

“Did you think of me?” Nathan asks again, his eyes not leaving you.

“Uh...yeah, I did.” You down the rest of your wine in one go.

“Tell me about it.”

You sigh deeply. “You saw everything, so why don’t you tell me?” you say, unsuccessfully trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance.

Nathan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.

When he had you on your knees in front of him a week ago, hands tied behind your back, allowing you a few seconds to catch your breath before going back to fucking your throat, he asked if you’d thought of him while touching yourself. You were flying high at that point, teetering on the edge, so desperate for release that you would have admitted anything he asked.

And so, you blurted out the truth. 

He can tell you regret it now, but that only makes him want to push you further. The thought of forcing you to admit what you want, what you are, has his cock hardening in his sweatpants. 

“Okay, fine,” you murmur, unable to take the deafening silence anymore. You clear your throat and shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“I couldn’t fall asleep and thought…you know, an orgasm might help. So I started with my hand, trying to get myself off as fast as possible. But then, um, that wasn’t enough,” you trail off, your gaze avoiding his, and you set the empty wine glass on the coffee table with a sigh.

“Look at me, baby.”

Nathan studies your face, typically adorned with a confident smile, and feels a surge of satisfaction as he takes in your dilated pupils and bashful expression. This is turning you on.

“Continue.”

“My fingers weren’t enough, so I thought I could use the toy I brought. I, um,” you inhale and exhale deeply, “I imagined it was you and I thought of what you…I thought of what you’d do to me.”

Anxiously, you search his eyes for a sign of approval, your heart racing in your chest.

“What did you think I’d do to you?” he asks, taking a swig of his beer without breaking eye contact.

You swallow audibly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your cheeks ablaze with heat. The sensation coursing through your body is undeniable—an intoxicating blend of humiliation and arousal.

Under Nathan’s intense scrutiny, you can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing second, succumbing to the forbidden pleasure of confessing your innermost, shameful desires.

“I thought you’d grab me like last time and kiss me…kiss my neck, bite my lip, hold me down while…” you stop again, too ashamed to go on.

“Hold you down while?” Nathan prompts, making it clear that you’re not done talking.

You tilt your head and furrow your brow as your gaze lingers on the man who has dominated every waking thought since the first time your eyes locked with his.

He’s condescending, self-centered, moody, and so used to playing God in his kingdom of androids that he’s seemingly forgotten how to connect with humans and their emotions. And yet, there’s an inexplicable allure about him that has you longing for his touch, his attention, his…guidance.

What is going on with you?   

“I imagined you’d put your weight on me, keeping me pinned down, making it impossible for me to get away,” you say, peering at him through your lashes. “You’d fuck me, hard, using me in any way you like.”

You bite your lip and shift in your seat, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you catch sight of Nathan’s hard cock twitching beneath the elastic fabric of his sweatpants. He’s still looking at you, his casual demeanor unchanged, beer in hand on his belly. 

“You’d take, um, you’d take control of me, choking me, muffling my screams with your hand, grabbing my tits. I’d beg you to let me come, you’d bring me right to the edge and then you’d stop, denying me over and over again, and using me until I…”

“Until you?”

The subtle arch of Nathan’s eyebrow, the lingering scent of his beard oil, the way his lips press against the glass bottle’s opening—it all ignites an overwhelming surge of arousal within you, urging you to give him what he wants.

“Until I couldn’t take it anymore,” you purr seductively, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

“Is that the thought that made you squirt all over your bed?”

Your jaw drops and your chest tightens, the humiliation intensifying as he talks about this intimate, vulnerable moment with such nonchalance. Like it’s not a complete invasion of your privacy. Like he’s not penetrating the very core of your personal boundaries. 

You feel a flutter in your stomach, and your throat constricts as you struggle to find your words.

“I…no,” you murmur, averting your gaze. Your eyes land on Nathan’s hand gripping the bottle a little harder than before. “What pushed me over the edge was you telling me to come.” 

When your eyes meet his again, you recognize the same dark glint in them that you saw seconds before his lips crashed against yours for the first time. 

“I would beg you to let me come over and over again, and you’d always deny me…until you decided I deserved it. And when you, uh, when you ordered me to come on your cock, I came so hard I lost all control.” 

Nathan can barely hold back a groan as you confess your desire for his dominance. His cock is leaking precum, staining the inside of his pants. He’s this close to ripping your clothes off and taking you right here, right now, burying himself deep inside you and filling you up with his cum. 

But that’s not the plan for tonight.

“Is that so,” is all he says, turning his head back to the TV, a satisfied, almost unnoticeable smirk playing on his lips. He chugs the rest of his beer, then sets the empty bottle down on the little side table next to him. 

Keeping his eyes on the flickering screen, he purposely ignores you again, reveling in the escalating neediness and desperation he perceives from you. He can sense your fidgeting and squirming beside him, uncertain of your next move. After a brief pause, you lift your hand but retract it hesitantly. Amused, Nathan catches a glimpse of your indecision from the corner of his eye.

You’re such a perfect little slut—beautiful, eager, smart, pliant. And it just tickles him that you could scream at him to fuck your ass harder during sex, but act all shy and flustered when asked to talk about it. 

Another minute of silence, and you’re unable to resist any longer. Your swollen clit is painfully sensitive, your damp panties are clinging to your pussy, and your brain is screaming at you to make a move. You reach out again, this time making contact with Nathan’s clothed chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart becomes palpable under your touch, and feeling his body connected with yours has you pressing your thighs together. 

Your breath quickens as you slowly start trailing your hand down his chest and his belly, but before you get a chance to touch his cock, he stills your hand with his.

“Don’t,” he says without looking at you.

You wince and immediately pull your hand away, clasping it protectively against your chest with your other hand.

“I thought…sorry.” You look at him like he just slapped you.

Nathan sighs, but doesn’t say anything. There’s no scolding, no inquiries, no indication of what he wants you to do—it’s unnerving. You’re fidgeting with your shirt again, clearing your throat, and shifting your legs, trying to find a position that will alleviate at least some of the burning ache in your core. 

“Can I–” you say quietly, but cut yourself off. You’re facing him completely now, feet tucked under you, hands on your thighs, a silent restraint preventing you from reaching out to touch him again.

Satisfied that you’re learning, he decides to reward you with his attention. His eyes find yours again, and he’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. It’s not just lust or neediness; no, you’re lost. Completely, unequivocally lost without his orders.

Nathan’s used to Kyoko looking at him with a blank face, awaiting his commands, reacting to his actions, doing what he programmed her to do. But this is different.

You actually want him to tell you what to do.

He takes his feet off the coffee table and scoots back in his seat, spreading his legs. “Sit on the floor,” he orders, watching with an imperceptible smile as your eyes light up. You quickly get off the couch and kneel on the floor between his legs, your eyes fixated on the outline of his cock inches from your face.

You want to taste it so bad you can feel yourself salivating at the sight. You bite your lip and move a little closer, looking up at Nathan expectantly before gently putting your hands on his thighs. He lifts his hips slightly, groaning at the delicious feeling of his tip rubbing against his pants. You take that as a sign to continue, moving your hands further up to the waistband.

“No,” he says calmly before you can pull it down. 

“Why not?” You don’t pull away your hands this time. “You’re hard. Why won’t you let me–”

“Look.” He leans down to tilt your chin up with his thumb and index finger. “I get that you’re a needy whore and seeing my cock instinctively makes you want to suck it, I really do, baby,” he scoffs, condescension dripping from his words. “But I honestly thought you’d be able to follow a simple instruction even dogs can understand.”

A sharp inhale catches in your throat and your eyes widen at his demeaning words. Your gaze locked onto his, you can feel a surge of frustration coursing through your veins, tinged with a spark of defiance. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

Nathan tilts his head, studying your expression, your reaction. You could have slapped him by now, stormed off, told him to go fuck himself—anything. But no, you’re still kneeling between his legs, lust and determination evident in your eyes.

“Let’s try this again, hm?” His thumb gently traces your bottom lip. The sensation sends a wave of ecstasy through your body and it takes all of your self-control not to start sucking on his finger. He can read in your eyes what you’re thinking, so he repeats the motion with your upper lip just to test your resolve. 

The way you squirm under his touch is mesmerizing and oh so gratifying.

“Sit on the floor.”

He releases his hold on your chin, reclines into the couch, grabs another beer from the side table, and redirects his attention back to the TV. 

You decide to crawl out from between his legs, ensuring he gets a tantalizing view of your shapely ass in those snug yoga shorts. Leaning against the couch with a deep sigh, you position yourself next to his leg. You glance up at him, searching for a sign that he’s happy with your obedience—and also very much hoping for a reward that involves him fucking your brains out again. 

It’s not as if you don’t deserve it for enduring his grandiose monologues and drunken crying sessions every other night. Besides, you’re hot, and he should be so lucky…

To your frustration, though, he’s ignoring you again, absentmindedly tapping the beer bottle with his index finger as his eyes stay focused on the movie. He can feel your annoyance, your anger, and it’s almost enough to get his softening cock hard again.

You sit in silence for a minute before quietly scooting closer and gently leaning against Nathan’s leg. Feeling him, even through fabric, is enough to embolden you to go further. You look up at him, trying to be sneaky. He doesn’t look at you. His eyes are fixated on the TV, one hand cradling his beer, the other casually draped over the backrest. 

You’re not giving up that easily. Your pussy won’t let you. Just one little touch, and you’re convinced you can get him in the mood. Just one little touch, and he won’t be able to resist you. Just one little–

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Then why the fuck am I down here?”

“Because I want you to be.”

“Oh, wow,” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “And now what? You think I’m just gonna sit here and watch you get drunk?”

He ignores your pouting.

“I got better stuff to do, you know.”

He turns up the volume of the TV. 

“This is so dumb, Nathan. Why do you want me to sit here if you’re just gonna ignore me?”

“You like it when I tell you what to do,” he says calmly.

You’re taken aback by his statement and furrow your brow. “Well, yeah…but this isn’t…I–”

He looks down at you, effectively shutting you up.

It’s absolutely amazing how he can watch in real time as the defiant fire in your eyes fizzles out. The small, self-satisfied smile creeping across his arrogant face stings.

He’s such a cocky bastard.

You huff agitatedly, cross your arms in front of your chest, demonstratively turn away from him, and kick your legs out from under you. Nathan, on the other hand, relaxes in his seat. He’s thoroughly enjoying your little show, and your pouting doesn’t bother him. Not as long as you’re doing what you’re told. 

After a few minutes of listening to the blood rushing in your ears and the occasional gulping sound coming from Nathan working on his beer, you can’t hold it back any longer.

“I’m not just gonna stay down here,” you hiss at him. 

“Yes, you are.”

Unbelievable. 

You stare at him incredulously. “And what makes you so sure of that, huh? I could just walk away and leave you here to sulk. I don’t need this, okay? And you–you can’t just–”

Nathan says your name sharply. “Stop your whining. You’re sitting on the floor because I told you to. That’s it.”

He looks at you, his eyebrow arched, daring you to defy him.

“That’s it?” you repeat, your eyes narrowed. 

Nathan smirks and turns towards the TV again, slowly sipping his beer.

“Yup. That’s it.”

You glower at him, and, for a brief moment, he half-expects you to finally get up and storm out in frustration. He wouldn’t mind, really. But there seems to be a subtle shift within you, and after a few tense seconds, you release a long, aggravated breath. Turning away from him, you cross your arms with annoyance, and firmly plant your back against the couch.

Nathan keeps an eye on you, observing how your tense posture relaxes and how you make yourself comfortable after a few more minutes of sitting at his feet. 

It’s an image he wants to savor.

You’ve been good for some time now, doing what he told you to do, submitting to him nicely. He decides to reward your obedience, reaching out to pet the back of your head. You’re startled and your body stiffens at his touch, but he can feel you relax more and more with each gentle stroke of his palm up and down the nape of your neck. He gives you a soothing massage, soft scratches, allows you to lean into his touch. 

He’s stroking you for some time, relishing the feeling of dominance, of control, until a quiet moan escapes your lips. 

Nathan smiles to himself and tightens his grip on your neck for a few seconds, intensifying the sensation. You sigh in pleasure and close your eyes, getting lost in his forceful touch. He then loosens his grip, and you release a contented sigh as you rest your head against his leg. He lets you, gently scratching your scalp, your soft moans music to his ears.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s so much better when you do what I say, hm?”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your brow furrowed.

Seeing you look up at him with those pretty, lust-filled eyes of yours is enough to get his cock hard again.

“You can just do what you’re told,” he says, his fingers gently tracing your neck. “You don’t have to think, or ask questions. You can just let yourself fall and give up control.”

Your eyes widen, and he caresses your cheek. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off. Not having to think for yourself, not having to make decisions.”

You don’t respond, mesmerized by his dark eyes and calm voice. There’s a hint of surprise in your expression, but that doesn’t surprise him. You’ve been suppressing your desire for submission for a long time, and now, he’s presenting you with the chance to finally embrace it.

“If I want you to sit on the floor because that’s where I feel you belong, you don’t ask why. You just do it,” he says, running his thumb over your lips again. “Right?”

You nod slowly and press your thighs together with a little whine. Your panties are drenched and it physically hurts you how empty you feel.

“Very good,” Nathan murmurs, pressing his thumb against your lips, and giving you a quick nod when you look at him questioningly. You open your mouth for him to slide his finger inside, your eyes going even wider at the sensation.

Nathan’s cock twitches at your total submission.

He gently thrusts his thumb in and out of your mouth, sliding it along your warm tongue. You suck and lick it seductively, eyes half-closed as you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as if to show him what his cock is missing.

He sucks in a sharp breath and takes his thumb back out of your mouth, pulling down your bottom lip slowly before bringing his face close to yours.

You half-expect him to kiss you, but instead he murmurs, “Clothes off, hands on your thighs.”

He watches contentedly as your eyes light up, and you eagerly follow his orders, pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, pulling down your shorts and panties in one swift motion.

“Kneel over there,” he says, directing you to a spot away from the couch.

He gets up and pulls down his sweatpants, letting them fall onto the floor. You stare at his cock with need, awe, and a tinge of fear—your holes were sore for days after your last encounter. He smiles to himself, crossing the distance between you two, and positioning himself in front of you. 

You’re sitting back on your heels, thighs spread, your hands firmly placed on them, your glistening pussy on display. There’s a smooth arch in your back and your head is tilted upwards as you wait for further instructions.

Nathan looks down at you, his eyes scanning your naked body, spits in his hand and starts stroking his cock. He groans at the delicious feeling of finally getting some relief. He hasn’t jerked off all day, despite watching the tape of you fucking yourself after he got up this morning. And after lunch. And again this afternoon.

To say he’s pent up would be an understatement.

“That’s it,” he moans, wasting no time to tease himself. His right hand sets a steady pace, sliding up and down his length with honed efficiency.

“I’m gonna come all over your pretty face, baby. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”

The thought of it, of Nathan marking you that way, dirty and wrong and everything you’re not supposed to desire, it sends a surge of heat through your body, settling in your clit with a throb.

You whimper an unintelligible response, your eyes fixated on his hand moving in practiced motions around his thick cock. Nathan chuckles above you, and you manage to tear your eyes away from his cock to catch the look of dark amusement on his face.

“You gotta speak up, baby. Or are you too cock-drunk to use your words already?”

You swallow hard and dig your nails into the flesh of your thighs. “Y-yes,” you manage to choke out. Your face burns with humiliation, intensifying your desperation as you plead, “Please come on my face, Nathan. I want you to mark me. Please give me your cum. Please.”

Shocked at your unexpectedly bold words, Nathan’s hand momentarily falters in its movement, before picking up again with increased speed.

A strangled groan bubbles out of his throat, followed by your name and a swipe of his thumb over the tip of his cock. His dark eyes meet yours for a split second, looking down at you as you’re patiently waiting for your reward with an opened mouth.

You writhe and squirm at the sound of Nathan’s groans and the intense sight of him pleasuring himself. You’ve never seen anything hotter. You want to touch yourself, to rub your clit or slip your fingers into your wet core—to finally get some release—but you resist the urge, clenching your hands into fists.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” Nathan pants, his words coming ragged and tight. He’s so close.

You look up into his lidded eyes and whisper, “Please.”

“You want that, huh? Oh fuck. Such a filthy little cumslut.”

You moan at his words and feel your walls clench in desperation. Your arousal is dripping out of your pussy onto the floor below, an obscene sight that confirms what Nathan already knew. 

You’re loving this.

Nathan’s hand is jerking his leaking cock, fast and firm, as he races toward his orgasm. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel—the wet squelching sound of his hand around his slick cock, his grunts and moans, the mumbled curses, the heat radiating off his imposing body.

You see him twitch in his hand and your swollen clit pulsates in response. He increases the speed of his hand and reaches to fondle his balls with his left hand. It takes a harsh squeeze and a “Holy shit, fuck!” before he’s coming with a long, low moan.

Your eyes shut instinctively but you don’t flinch as you can feel it hitting your face and tits in hot, wet spurts. You stay still, like the good girl that you are, moaning as another thick rope of Nathan’s cum lands across your lips, dripping into your mouth, salty and bitter on your tongue. 

You don’t get to see his face as he comes, but the explicit sounds that reach your ears are enough to make you twitch and moan in pleasure, expanding the puddle beneath you.

Nathan strokes himself through his orgasm until his balls are empty and he’s milked every last drop out of his cock and onto your face—until he’s painted you with it, until he’s marked you as his. 

“Goddamnit.”

Spent, he lets go of his pulsating cock, putting his hands on his hips, taking a step back to take a good, long look at his work of art.

Your face is painted white with cum, spread all over your cheeks, chin, and dripping down to your tits. You put on a little show, gathering up the drops with your finger and sensually putting them on your tongue while keeping unwavering eye contact.

“You can swallow,” Nathan says, pleased with your conduct. 

You do as he says, happily adding some more cum from your lips, and swallowing it all down with a blissed-out smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” you coo.

“Such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, stepping closer. He bends down, grabs the back of your neck forcefully, and tilts your head up.

“Open your mouth, slut. Tongue out.”

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for him to see. He leans in to let a big glob of his spit fall directly into your open mouth. He hums in satisfaction as he watches you swallow it eagerly, and then he finally kisses you, dirty and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, bucking your hips, desperate for him to finally touch your neglected pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, making you moan. “Now, go get cleaned up.”

Oh no, he wouldn’t.  

You stare at him with wide eyes. “But I–”

“Go. Get. Cleaned. Up.”

“But I haven’t…what about me?” you stammer, your voice trembling. 

“What about you?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Your face falls and his cock pulsates at your expression. You look like you’re close to crying, your thighs pressed together to alleviate your aching clit, your nails painfully digging into your palms. You’re shaking with anger and frustration.

Nathan’s never been as turned on as he is from seeing you suffer—you’re just so pretty when you’re denied.

He can already picture himself playing with every part of you for hours on end, denying you over and over again until your body is ablaze with burning anticipation. And then, once he’s finally reduced you to a brainless, overstimulated mess, he’ll wrap his hand around your throat and make you take him until you beg him to stop.

But that’s for another day. 

“Smile, baby,” he smirks, tapping your cum-stained cheek and straightening up to get himself another beer from the kitchen. “You’re on camera.”

– – –

Thank you for reading! 🤍

in control || predator & prey || main masterlist

tagging: @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute let me know if you want me to add you!

[growingstories]

Golf

Once upon a time, in the vibrant world of sports, there was a football player named Andrew Thompson. He possessed immense skill and was admired by fans for his dedication and talent. Unfortunately, fate had a different plan in store for Andrew. During a fateful game, he suffered a severe injury that left him unable to continue his football career.

Devastated by the news, Andrew pondered his uncertain future. He longed for the thrill and camaraderie of the sporting world once more. As he searched for a new direction, he discovered the game of golf. Intrigued by the peacefulness it offered and its potential for success, Andrew decided to give it a shot.

To his surprise, Andrew excelled at golf. With his determination and natural athletic abilities, he quickly rose the ranks through of amateur tournaments. As his skills gained recognition, he found himself competing against some of the sport's greatest players. After each victorious tournament, he indulged in lavish parties, reveling in his newfound success.

Amidst the celebrations, Andrew soon realized that his golf clubs were becoming cumbersome to carry around. He sought a caddy to assist him during his games, and that when's he met Samuel, an experienced caddy with a knack for understanding the game. Samuel diligently carried Andrew's clubs, ensuring he had everything he needed.

However, as time went on, Andrew began to grow lazy. Intoxicated by his achievements and the care Samuel provided, he allowed himself to indulge in luxurious food and leisurely golf cart rides instead of walking the courses. His appetite grew, and so did his waistline.

Unbeknownst to Andrew, tabloids soon caught wind of his weight gain. Headlines ridiculed his physical transformation, and the public became fascinated with his downfall. Andrew's frustration grew, leading him to seek solace in food even more. The agony of his failures was momentarily eased by binge-eating, which only perpetuated his cycle of weight gain.

Through it all, Samuel remained devoted to Andrew, preparing delectable meals to satisfy his insatiable hunger. Unbeknownst to Andrew, Samuel found pleasure in their arrangement, which extended beyond the confines of their golfing routine. Their relationship became complicated, entwined with both physical satisfaction and genuine care.

Days turned into months, and Andrew's weight continued to pile on. His belly grew so large that it began interfering with his swing, rendering his ability to play golf effectively nearly impossible. Frustration consumed him, and he made the heart-wrenching decision to retire from golf altogether.

Despite his attempts to step away from the eating, the weight gain showed signs no of slowing down. Andrew's love for food, coupled with his love for Samuel, fueled his desire to consume more. Samuel, dedicated and unwavering in his support, took care of Andrew's every need, even as their encounters grew more frequent and intense.

Andrew's life gradually revolved around his desires, and his once-athletic physique disappeared beneath layers of fat. The public's interest in him waned, and he became a recluse, secluded within the confines of his extravagant home. While many criticized his choices, Samuel remained steadfast in his care, ensuring Andrew's pleasure and satisfaction were his top priorities.

Days turned into years, and Andrew's weight continued to skyrocket. Yet, despite the physical limitations and societal pressures, their love remained intact. It was a bond that surpassed societal norms, a connection that transcended.

And appearances so, with every bite, every touch, and every encounter, Andrew and Samuel continued their tumultuous journey. In their twisted world, there would be no stopping, no judgment, and no escape from the grips of their desires.

[babysfirstfic]

live now, think later

luke hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Luke desperately needs to blow off some steam. In a dingy bar, he finds just what he's looking for...

warnings: Brief allusions to sex, but nothing major. Yet. (18+)

a/n: This is my first ever fic! I would love to hear feedback if you have any. I plan for this to be chapter 1 of 3 (but we'll see what happens)! Shoutout to this Tate McRae song for directly inspiring the title and for subconsciously inspiring the plot.

There were few NHL rookies who had more eyes trained on them than Luke Hughes. Between the constant media attention he received from a young age and the pressure that came with his last name, Luke had always had a complicated relationship with his celebrity.

Don’t get it twisted, Luke was super grateful for all the advantages that came with having two all stars for brothers, and there was a part of him that enjoyed leaning into his status. 

On the ice, he welcomed the attention. He loved the chance to put on a show for the fans, reveling in the opportunities to make game-changing plays. Hockey was his craft; the minute he laced up his skates he was an artist, an author, a showman. A single goal could cause an entire stadium to rise to their feet, and the power he felt in those moments was indescribable.

Off the ice, though, it was a different story.

Luke prided himself on his maturity and his charm, his ability to keep his cool even while being peppered with questions and surrounded by cameras. He had years to perfect the art of the interview, expertly dodging personal inquiries and even cracking the occasional smile to make it seem like he didn’t absolutely despise answering the same inane questions over and over again. 

But one could only keep up appearances for so long. He found it exhausting to have to perform all the time. Though he understood it was a sacrifice he’d have to make now that he was living out his dreams, that didn’t make it any easier. 

After several months in the league, he craved a chance to be something other than “Luke Hughes, the hockey player”. He desperately needed to let loose and to make use of the other sides of his personality, the spicier sides, the sides that the cameras would never get to see. 

It was time for this Devil to earn his horns. 

Within the first few months of being in New Jersey, Luke quickly learned which bars would bend the rules for him. In his desperation to fit in with any teammate who didn’t share his DNA, he was willing to do pretty much anything to get in, buying fake IDs, signing jerseys, you name it. He felt it showed his teammates just how committed he was to building their relationships, on and off the ice. 

But tonight, his team couldn’t have been further from his mind. This time, he’d come alone. 

Luke had never had the time or energy for dating, but he thrived on quick hook ups and meaningless sex. No obligation for vulnerability or commitment, just fun. After the whirlwind that had been last year, he needed some fun, and tonight, he was willing to work for it. 

His bar of choice was dingy, a typical dive bar, complete with sticky floors and disgruntled employees, but the low key lighting and loud music allowed for the perfect cover. Luke felt a sense of safety in his anonymity, a feeling which was becoming increasingly rare. 

Waiting in a booth on the edge of the dimly lit room, he scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of excitement, someone to steal the blood from his brain and force it elsewhere. 

Suddenly, something, no someone caught his eye. It was you. 

In a glittery backless top with a loose, low cut and black pants that you filled out in all the right places, you were shaking your stuff on the dance floor. Your whole body bounced with every movement. Like a beacon in the night, the strobe lights illuminated your entirety, sending colourful fractals bouncing off in every direction. You were practically demanding Luke’s attention, and you didn’t even have to try. 

You had sensed his eyes on you immediately and couldn’t help but to return his gaze. He looked young but strangely sure of himself, carrying the recognizable swagger of a man who’s used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. Luke would call it confidence, but if you asked his brothers, they’d call it his raging youngest sibling syndrome. 

You were undeniably intrigued. Adding more hip movement to your dancing, you hoped that it would encourage him to join. This certainly was not your first rodeo. 

It worked. Slowly, he stood up from his booth and made his way onto the dance floor. You sensed a shift in his energy, like this was something out of the ordinary for him. “Nice to know he has a weakness,” you mused to yourself, just now noticing the flutter in your heart as he inched closer. 

Luke hated dancing, but something about you drew him in, like a ship of sailors drawn by the voices of sirens. Though he hoped he might meet a different fate; he hoped you might give him a happy ending. 

Eventually, he reached your spot on the dance floor. 

“Hey,” he spoke into your ear, leaning in close so that you could hear him above the music. You felt his breath tickle your neck, sending chills down your back and deep inside. 

“Hi,” you responded, keeping your cool in spite of the tides coming in beneath you. You didn’t know him, had never seen him before, yet everything within you yearned to be close to him, craved to feel his hand against your skin, begged to know him in every sense of the word. “Sheesh girl, you need to get out more,” you thought, smiling briefly to yourself.

Without wasting any time, you grabbed his hand and placed it on the small of your back, finally experiencing the brief release of skin-on-skin. You looked up at him, attempting to decipher the look on his face. He reciprocated your gaze, flashing his crooked smile, practically threatening to melt you right then and there. 

Seeing his smile mirrored on your face, he moved his other hand to match the first, pulling you in close. You nodded to express your approval and quickly fell back into your original rhythm, grinding and swaying your hips to the music. Sticking your hands in his back pockets, you led him through the motions, slowly undulating your bodies to the beat. 

Your eyes scanned up and down as you let yourself take him in. There was something about this boy; he completely captivated you. With his arms around you, you felt safe. He lacked the aggression and forcefulness you had unfortunately come to expect from situations such as these. He was clearly strong, but you caught him out of his comfort zone, so he was letting you take the lead, a role you took on gladly. 

After a couple minutes of finding the right rhythm, your bodies became one. The world melted away. Luke leaned in and began gently kissing your neck, stopping only to briefly nibble your ear. As your pelvises moved up and down to the beat, you began to feel the friction of something rising just below his belt. You responded in kind, sensing a growing heat and swelling between your legs. Neither of you had done this in a while and it was showing, your bodies overly excitable. But you didn’t mind; you were both getting exactly what you wanted. 

“I live a couple blocks from here,” you shouted above the crowd, doing everything in your power not to let out the moan that was threatening to escape your lips. “Maybe we could finish our dance there”. 

Knowing full well he couldn’t wait that long, Luke made a different suggestion. “There’s a hotel across the street. I have a room. Care to join me?” 

In the haze of the crowd and the music and the night, you found yourself moving off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the open air of Newark. 

Your entire body was pounding, throbbing with energy and excitement. Your hand was clasped in his, and only then, as you were making your way through the hotel lobby and down the hallway to the room, did you realize you didn’t even know his name. More importantly, you realized you didn’t care. In fact, it was better this way. No possibility of getting attached or contacting each other afterwards. A true one night stand. 

As you reached the room, Luke spun you around to face him, your back firmly placed against the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, leaning close, finally allowing you to get a good look at his face in the light.  

Your gaze trailed down from his curls to his lips, before resting on his eyes. You noticed a slight sparkle in them, a glint, an invitation. This was your chance. “I’ve never been more sure,” you responded.

Lunging forward instinctively, you reached up, taking hold of his hair and guiding his lips towards yours. Your touch was confident, verging on forceful, a byproduct of the pent up energy that needed an outlet and had finally found one. 

Maybe you were a little too forceful. As your bodies collided, they also made contact with the door, sending a loud noise vibrating through the hallway. You briefly paused your moment of passion to laugh, your foreheads still touching, neither of you daring to fully pull away. 

“Someone’s a little eager,” Luke spoke against your lips, chuckling slightly before re-initiating the kiss. 

Just as it had in the bar, the world melted away, making you forget just how publicly you were displaying your affection. 

But you were both being reckless, and Luke knew it. He had been warned about pulling something like this, about bringing negative attention to himself or to the team. He was new and still needed to prove himself. Above all that, he had a squeaky clean reputation to uphold. He was trained to be tight-lipped to the media so that the focus was on his playing, not his personal life. Stunts like this could jeopardize everything he’d worked for, everything his parents sacrificed for. But god, you were making him forget all of that. There wasn’t a single thought in Luke’s mind that didn’t have to do with getting you out of your clothes and under his tongue...

[musashi]

You said in one of your youtube videos I think that the aa anime had your favorite characterization and I was wondering if you'd like to elaborate on that a bit more? I haven't watched it yet kother than the bloopers video lol) and I'm just curious as to what it does differently than the games

it is true to the games in every regard, but it has extra time to add character flourish that the games cannot.

just some examples: maya moves around erratically in every space she's in, the foley work is amazing so you can hear her wooden sandals on the ground and the clink of her beads hitting themselves. she barrels through crime scenes, accidentally smacks phoenix all the time because she isn't paying attention to what she's doing, and just has room to be more 'maya-like' because she's in an animated space and not stuck in a VN with mostly-static screens.

phoenix's internal monologue is replaced by long, lingering shots of him silently studying evidence as he finds it. moments where he connects everything come as instant revelations and you are left on the edge of your seat waiting to hear what he will say, rather than having to piece it together yourself. his character is incredibly pronounced in the anime especially--the core tenet of him is 'faith' and this is shown wonderfully time and time again.

(see, the scene in episode 2 where maya says she doesn't want him defending her, so he bikes in the rain all day to the office of every single defense attorney in the county begging for their help. the flashback scene in episode 13 where larry is insisting that miles has abandoned them and is about to crush miles' keychain under his foot, and phoenix dives for it and lets larry smash his fingers instead.)

miles in game is described as being sad-looking and watery-eyed, always kind of holding pain in his body and expression. you get to see that in the anime, instead of just having it told to you, and it does an amazing job at softening his character and endearing him to you in an instant

the anime supplements tons to established relationships. i talked in that video about how i love what it does to the prosecutor family, it shows you miles as a teenage boy and surrounds him in imagery (flower language, the clothes he wears, wide shots of him stuck at a fork in the road) that tells you he does not know what to do or who to be. and it shows you how the von karmas take care of him, and how it is miles' choice to be a prosecutor.

in the anime, franziska never has her 'miles was like a little brother to me' line because the anime shows you instead of telling you.

the anime offers insight into manfred von karma's thoughts on miles, which are notably remorseful and kind. it offers flashbacks to a time when franziska was protective and loving toward miles, doing everything in her power to pull him out of his trauma-induced depression and help him process grief.

the AA anime loves using symbolic storytelling. flower language is a big one, light is another. light is constantly used to convey truth, enlightenment, joy. this shot where franziska is literally in miles shadow as her father begins the process of choosing him over her, but she smiles with her whole face because she finally got him to smile for the first time since they've met, is literally a fucking masterpiece to me. i could write my dissertation on this scene alone.

the anime shows us everything we do not get in the games, all the little things we wish we could be privy to. it shows us mia giving maya the best day she possibly can, before asking maya--with the full expectation that maya may say no--if she would be willing to head the fey clan.

the anime gives us the progression of miego's relationship, literally SHOWS them falling in love

the anime gives us the fucking hospital scene that everyone is insane about!

and, of course, the anime gives us the little tiny baby signal trio, all running around and playing pretend as their favourite toku heroes.

these keychains that larry wins the three of them are a thruline throughout the whole show. phoenix keeps his on his briefcase, exposed to the world just like his heart, its paint chipping from years of love.

miles keeps his hidden away, close to his chest, pristine after all those years. even as the demon prosecutor, he never gets rid of it. even when he chooses death, he takes the memory of his two best friends with him.

the ace attorney anime is a fucking masterpiece. it takes these pre-established characters and breathes new life into them without losing sight of their original intention. every choice it makes is beautiful, rich with depth and nuance and love. it is genuinely no wonder the fandom hates it so much, which how much it clashes with their often black-and-white views of these characters who were never intended to be that way.

obviously, as a new medium, it does have to make some changes to adapt properly. but i have decided i am no longer speaking any problems i have with those changes, because i am sick to bastard death of negativity on all sides of me and would rather just publicly profess my love to this anime forever.

watch the aa anime.

(hey, dipshits in my notes! read the above banner, and then read it again! read it a third time, for good measure! are you typing a tag that starts with 'the anime has it's problems, but--' or 'the anime did a lot of things wrong, but--'? consider: no one fucking asked! not everything in the world needs your opinion, person with severe main character syndrome who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up! stop using parroting other people's opinions as a personality replacement and log off this website. take up a hobby. don't reblog my post. ten thousand whip lashes.)