Snapshots of Love

Scary, my god you're divine [18+]

Warning : This chapter includes R-Rated scenes proceed with caution...

(I know everyones gonna ignore the warning cause lets' be honest we all are a bunch of tharkis)

Tags: Anal Sex, Belly Bulge, Dominant Top Shubman, Bottom Ishan, Power Play, Begging, Dirty Talk...

Almost 5k words of pure filth 😭

Enjoy 🌚

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"You're not seriously thinking of letting him go, are you?" Shubman's voice was low, a rumble of thunder in the quiet office.

Ishan Kishan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed at the file on his desk. The man on the other side of the room was sweating, his hands visibly shaking.

"I'm considering it," he said, flipping the page with a casualness that belied the tension in the air.

Shubman took a step closer, his hand resting on the polished oak. "Boss, you know what he did."

"I know," Ishan murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet Shubman's. "But maybe he's learned his lesson."

The air had the scent of leather and the faint hint of cigar smoke, a stark contrast to the cool, detached tone of their conversation.

The man in question was one of their lower-ranked members who had made a costly mistake, and now he was at the mercy of Ishan's judgment.

The tension grew as the silence stretched, the only sound the ticking of the vintage clock on the wall.

Outside, the city's pulse thrived, the neon lights of the nightlife flashing through the tinted windows like a strobe of secrets.

Inside, the atmosphere was entirely different, the opulence of the mahogany walls and the heavy velvet drapes shielding them from the chaos beyond.

Shubman studied Ishan, his mind racing with unspoken words. He knew the boss was fair, but sometimes his mercy was a double-edged sword. "You're too soft," he said finally, his voice a soft growl.

In the tense office of the mafia boss Ishan Kishan, Shubman Gill, his right-hand man, questions the decision to spare a trembling member who made a grave mistake.

Despite the luxurious setting, the air is thick with tension, and Shubman feels that Ishan's mercy might be misplaced.

Ishan's eyes hardened, and he closed the file with a snap. "And you're too eager for blood."

Their gazes held for a moment, the unspoken dance of power and loyalty playing out in the space between them. Then, with a sigh, Ishan leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk.

"But maybe you're right," he conceded. "We can't have loose ends."

Shubman nodded, his expression unreadable. He knew what had to be done, and he would carry out Ishan's orders without question.

The fear in the other man's eyes grew, his fate sealed by the simple exchange of words.

In the quiet, private sanctum of Ishan's penthouse suite, the roles shifted.

Gone was the stoic mafia leader, replaced by a man desperate for release, his eyes filled with a different kind of hunger.

And there was Shubman, his handsome features softening as he looked upon the man who ruled the underworld with an iron fist.

The door to the penthouse clicked shut, and the two men were finally alone, the weight of their public personas slipping away like the shadows of the night.