#As someone who works at a country club I get it. Working for the rich has its pros

[little-diable]

The Agreement - Rafe Cameron (smut)

So, this is a new one. But I am so deep down the Rafe and Drew rabbit hole, I just had to write something. This has potentional for more parts, but I will settle on that once I get your reactions on this part 1. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is new to the area, but it didn't taken long for Sarah's and her ways to cross. But life in the area is expensive, so the reader is in desperate need for someone to support her, perhaps Rafe Cameron, the guy everybody warned her about, is the right guy to help her out. But Rafe Cameron isn't a guy with a soft heart, the devil doesn't make one sided deals.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), sex with a stranger somewhat, sex in an unfamiliar room, spitting, slight choking, degrading, talks about the reader working as a sugar baby

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (3.1k words)

I LIVE for this gif. Jesus.

“Honestly, I am so ready to marry rich and forget about all these payments. Who can even afford to pay for all these things?” A groan left (y/n), head rolling back while she pressed herself further against the mattress of her bed. For a moment she was met with silence, waiting for Sarah to reply, but her friend kept quiet, seemingly deep in thought. 

“Well, maybe it’s time we finally find you someone good. I bet you’d easily find someone fitting at the Country Club.” (Y/n) had to fight against the urge to roll her eyes, Sarah was all too aware of her distaste for all these rich people who only cared about themselves. She was still relatively new to the area but had instantly picked up on the struggles between the pogues and kooks, fights (y/n) desperately wanted to stay away from. 

“Thank you, but I’d rather sell my soul than step a foot into that place.” Sarah’s giggles forced a smile to widen on (y/n)’s lips, knowing that her new friend wouldn’t back down from this discussion.

“Oh c’mon, live a little. But you could also just try to mingle at a party, I guess.” It took (y/n) a moment to think through the idea, especially since she knew she’d feel by far more comfortable at a party rather than at the country club. The hum leaving her drew another giggle from Sarah, already excited about whatever (y/n) may stumble upon.

“I guess I could but only if you join me to figure out if there are any parties worth joining.” She had interacted quite a lot with Sarah Cameron so far, a friendly face she had crossed paths with every now and then when she had first moved here. Something seemed to connect the two of them, something (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint yet but was insanely grateful for nevertheless. 

“Absolutely I’ll text you in a few!”

…

She should have stayed at home, away from all these unfamiliar faces, the alcohol which would undoubtedly leave her massively hungover, and the horrible music she couldn’t endure much longer. So far she still hadn’t crossed paths with Sarah, clinging to the promise that she’d eventually show up with some friends in tow - people (y/n) could click with, according to Sarah at least.

The distaste clung to her face as (y/n) pushed through the crowd of sweaty bodies, trying to stay away from those who looked at her for a few seconds too long. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen, set on pouring herself another drink to at least endure another hour of this party.

With her eyes set on the open cabinet, (y/n) tried to reach for one of the almost empty bottles, weight shifted onto her toes to grasp it - though miserably failing. The exhausted huff clawing through her was swallowed by the sound of a raspy laugh filling the kitchen, forcing her eyes to find a pair of bright ones. 

“C’mon, you almost had it, don’t stop the show now.” The smirk clinging to his lips left her scowling, instantly recognising him, Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother. Even though (y/n) hadn’t been around for long, she had picked up on numerous warnings, telling her to stay away from the guy who was followed around by trouble. 

“Fuck off.” Her words made him laugh again, letting the sound ring in her ears while he pushed himself closer. Rafe’s cologne wrapped itself around her, making her heavily swallow the second she felt his front pressed against her back. With one hand finding her waist, he held her close while reaching for the bottle she had tried to grasp. Wordlessly he poured her some of the liquid, letting go of her seconds later, but she stayed quiet, not saying a single word to the smirking guy.

“Where’s my thank you? Or is cursing the only thing you can do?” Rafe leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. Her eyes couldn’t help but find his bulging muscles, hating that he was that handsome while she had promised others she’d stay away from him. 

“I don’t want to further inflate your ego, Cameron.” (Y/n) tried to push past Rafe, though without any luck. His bright eyes wandered over her features, grinning down on the frowning girl. His hands kept holding onto her, settling on her waist as if they had crossed paths numerous times before, more familiar with one another than they let on. 

“I can see why you haven’t found many new friends so far, (y/n).” A scoff left her as she tried to push him away, though without any luck. Anger began to bubble deep inside of her, wondering how she could get rid of the devilish handsome guy. But Rafe seemed all too comfortable with their closeness, looking at her like a predator ready to snap, already high on her blood he’d feast from any second now. “What’s your problem with me, huh?” “I have no problem with you, Rafe. Let me go.” He clicked his tongue before letting it run along his lower lip, a motion she couldn’t help but stare at, eyes following his every movement. 

“What did my sister tell you about me?” His thumb began to move, softly stroking along the silver of skin her top showed off. Goosebumps covered her arms, something (y/n) could only curse at, hating her body for feeling that drawn towards him. Sarah had told her all those gruesome stories about him, a psychotic guy she should desperately try to stay away from – and yet something intrigued (y/n), something she couldn’t shake.

“Drugs, guns, whoring around, the list is long, and I really don’t want to catch anything from you.” She shot him a sickly sweet smile before finally pulling herself free. Without giving Rafe the chance to stop her, (y/n) managed to disappear from his sight, finding shelter in another spot of the mansion. Her heart was racing in her chest, beating faster than probably ever before. 

Sarah’s words kept hallowing in her mind, sharply reminding her of the bad news following Rafe Cameron around, words that began to lose their importance when her eyes were drawn back to his bright ones. They held contact as she drowned her drink in one go, still feeling his hands on her body as if he had burned his touch into her skin. Her breath got hitched in her chest as Rafe began to move, seemingly set on speaking to her again – and yet he didn’t get far, forced to watch his sister find (y/n) first, pulling her outside. 

“I was looking for you, I want to introduce you to some people.” Sarah clung to (y/n)’s side as she led her to the pool area, introducing her to people whose names she didn’t pick up on, still thinking of Rafe. Sarah’s words from this morning reached her again, overthinking their plan of (y/n) finding a guy to keep around at a party like this, a plan she had to scoff at now.

“Sarah told us you’re currently working as a surf instructor around here, would you want to go surfing with us tomorrow morning?” A blonde guy smiled at her, forcing her to focus for a second. The cap he wore only showed off a few of his strands, enough for her to pick up on how cute he looked. She was close to denying, wanting to spend the morning sleeping in, but the way Sarah squeezed her wrist forced a soft “Sure” out of (y/n). 

She didn’t listen to the other things the group shared, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Slowly, (y/n) let her gaze wander, finding Rafe looking at her from one of the windows. He raised his brows in an almost mocking manner, taking a sip of his drink as if he was daring her to find her way back to him. She rolled her eyes at him, and yet she stepped away from Sarah a moment later, murmuring something about having to find the bathroom. 

Rafe was back at her side the second she stepped into the house, pulled through the room by the hand finding hers. The loud music momentarily managed to drown out her racing thoughts, thoughts that were completely silenced the second she found herself pushed into a dark room, front pressed against Rafe’s.

“Is this one of your famous tactics? Pulling girls you don’t know into dark ro-,” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, interrupted by the feeling of Rafe’s lips finding hers. Even though her first instinct was to push him away, she didn’t find the want to do it, instead (y/n) chased his lips, swallowing the raspy chuckle leaving Rafe.

She was all too aware of the way Rafe’s eyes had followed her around for the past weeks, trying to find the right moment to speak to her whenever he was at the beach with his friends or when she met friends near the club. Late at night he’d stroke his cock to the thought of her, painting the screen of his phone white while looking at her pictures, only further fuelling his obsession with her. Something about (y/n) stuck to Rafe, perhaps it was the fact that she was all too oblivious to the struggles they all had faced for the past months, perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t seem to give a shit about him, whatever it was, he needed to get his hands on her. 

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe led her to the bed, plopping down on it with her falling into his lap. Their tongues got tangled, brushing together while his warm hands found their way underneath her shirt, feeling her tremble in his grasp. His name rolled off her tongue as (y/n) needed a second to breathe, high on the feeling of him kissing his way down her throat.

Her mind screamed at her, asking her what the hell she was doing, and yet her body didn’t seem to care. Rafe Cameron had pulled her into his trap, unable to rip herself free while slowly letting him in. She didn’t protest as he pulled her shirt over her head, didn’t protest as his lips found her right nipple, softly biting and sucking on the soft skin before finding the other. 

“Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.” For a second he froze at her slightly panicked words, waiting for her to say something else, to push him away. But (y/n) didn’t find the strength to pull herself free, tugging on his golden strands to reconnect their lips, allowing him to shift them around to press (y/n) against the mattress. It felt as if her body was on fire, set ablaze by his touch, by the way he towered over her and looked at her as if she was the prettiest sight he had ever set his eyes on. 

“Breathe, sweetheart, let me do this.” Rafe kissed his way down her stomach, pulling her shorts and soaked panties down her legs to settle between her thighs. The moan that left him the second he brushed his tongue through her slit made her arch her back, pushing herself further against his mouth. Rafe’s eyes were set on her pleasure-drunken features, watching her get lost in the sensation. 

“Fuck, Rafe.” (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, hands finding his hair to hold him close. It had been a while since she had last been with someone, no longer used to feeling this alive. His thumb circled her pulsing bundle, tongue slowly fucking into her tightness to push her further towards the edge. No longer was her mind racing, no longer did (y/n) find herself overthinking this situation, solemnly focused on Rafe’s skilled touch.

“Look at you, pretty girl, at the mercy of a guy you claim not to like.” It was clear that he enjoyed this all too much, smirking up at (y/n) who couldn’t reply to his teasing words. She was desperate to cum, to let go with his name rolling off her tongue like a prayer spoken in a need of guidance. 

He put his mouth back on her heat, sucking on her clit while he pushed two of his long fingers into her, fucking her with his fingers curled against her swollen spot. Another moan clawed its way out of (y/n), reverberating through the dark room, a sound so sweet Rafe couldn’t help but groan against her skin. The sound was enough to push her over the edge, cumming on his tongue with a call of his name. 

Rafe’s fingers fucked her through her high, enjoying the sight of her trembling body, watching her fall apart with his bright eyes that had slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only when she loosened her grip on his hair did Rafe move up her body again, pressing a kiss to her slightly swollen lips which allowed (y/n) to taste herself on his tongue.

“Will you let me fuck you, (y/n)?” She was spaced out, and yet her mind was still clear enough to pick up on his words. A moan left her before she could stop the sound from making it past her lips, set on the same goal as Rafe. His ringed fingers rested on her throat, keeping a tight grasp on her, “Gonna need you to speak up, use your words.” 

“Fuck me, Rafe, please.” It was all he needed to hear, momentarily letting go of her to pull his shirt over his head, to free his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, and to pull a condom down his length. She forced herself up on her forearms, resting her weight on them to watch him tower over her. Their eyes held contact as Rafe pushed into her, letting his cock spread her tight walls.

For a second, neither of them moved, allowing their bodies to adjust before Rafe began to fuck her with a faster growing rythm. With one hand resting on the pillow next to her head, he kept himself balanced while the other found its way back to her throat. She stared up at him, fully at his mercy as if the devil himself was fucking her, forcing her to accept that she had just gambled with her soul and lost it to him. 

His thrusts were ferocious, hips meeting hers with every movement, drawing sinful sounds from the both of them. Rafe’s thumb tapped against her lip, forcing (y/n) to open her mouth – seemingly understanding what he was about to do. He stared down at her as he spat onto her tongue, making her swallow his saliva without protesting once, finding the way he was claiming her too hot to fight against it. 

“I should have fucked that tight cunt of yours the first time I laid my eyes on you.” Rafe’s rasped out words left her gasping, eyes rolling back into her head for a second. His words had an instant effect on (y/n), letting her stuttering breaths break out of her as if she hadn’t been allowed to inhale any air for the past minutes. “Such a pathetic little slut, letting the guy others warned you about fuck you. But you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

“I am, fuck, you’re so good at this, Rafe.” She no longer cared about his way too big ego, didn’t care about how desperate she sounded, solemnly focused on her second nearing orgasm. One of her hands found her pulsing bundle, circling it while her free hand moved up his naked back, feeling his muscles tense beneath it.

“Beg for it, baby, let me hear how desperate you are to cum on my cock.” Another moan left her, and another as his thrusts met the spot that made her choke. It took (y/n) a second to find her voice, blabbering a few incoherent begging words before finding her strength.

“Please, let me cum, fuck, I need it, Rafe.” He chuckled against her lips, once again picking up his speed before a raspy “Cum” found its way to her. She choked on her moans, sobbing his name while he followed her down the edge seconds later, moaning into their kiss. 

Heavy breaths left them both, clinging to one another without speaking for a moment or two. Only slowly did he let go of her, pulling away to throw the condom into the trash. (Y/n) watched him move around, redressing while he seemed deep in thought, no longer wearing that arrogant smirk she secretly loved. 

“I heard what you talked about with Sarah this morning.” Rafe had his eyes focused on her, eyebrows furrowed as if he struggled to find the right words. She didn’t say anything at first, dressing herself before plopping back down on the bed. “About bills and payments and all that shit.” 

“Mhm, what about it?” Her tone had something almost bored to it, not daring to let him in on the panic that slowly began to simmer inside of her. She shouldn’t care about what he was thinking of her, even though he had just fucked her better than any other guy she had been with so far. 

“I have a proposition for you, an arrangement if you want. You need someone to help with your bills and I need someone I can trust by my side for all these galas and events I need to show up at, someone to fool partners with.” A humourless laugh left (y/n) at his words, not daring to believe the words Rafe had just spoken. 

“I knew you were an asshole, but I don’t need you to fuck with me like that, Cameron.” She rose to her feet, set on fleeing from this room, but Rafe didn’t let her, hand snapping down on her wrist like it had back in the kitchen. 

“It’s the truth, Sarah seems to like you for whatever reason, and even though her people skills are fucked, I fear she may be right with this one.” His words had a strange undertone to them, a desperation that made her halt for a second. (Y/n) let her eyes wander over his features, studying Rafe who stared at her with an unreadable expression. 

“Do you really mean that? You’d pay me for making you, what? Look good at events? Would I be like a sugar baby?”

[idliketobeanalbatross]

I'm being so serious when I say these frames are the funniest thing I've seen in my fucking life

Its literally perfect.

1.Her uniform not matching and having been reused from the time her boss tried to start a maid cafe

2.The hollow starving look in her eyes (she literally adores food and money in the same way) (Homegirl is already down to eat the rich ig)

3.The way they quietly escort her away from Saiko. Chances are he didn't even notice that she was there (no way that kid observes the help.)

4.The way none of her friends notice her literally being dragged away by security.

5. The fact that Saiki actually did notice did notice and Could Not Care Less.

[xoxojuyo]

Nanny | jjk (m)

✦ summary: you take a babysitting job for the wealthy Jeon family, one night you get to see Mr. Jeon in the kitchen, finding him much more attractive in person than in photos. Despite his seemingly disinterest in you, he comes to you one night, summoning you to his studio.

✦rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✦ pairing: dilf!Jungkook + f!reader

✦ warnings: married!jungkook, dad!jungkook, he is a father of two, older!jungkook, power imbalance relationship, he is your boss’s husband, mistress!reader, cheater!jungkook, swearing, kissing, boob play, finger licking, slight choking, fingering, degradation, penetrative s3x, no mentions of contraceptive use, he cums inside.

✦word count: 3.5K

✦a/n: this is written in first person, oopsie. hope you enjoy.

The clock indicates 9PM as I tiptoed out of the children's room, my steps light and cautious, mindful not to wake the little ones. I was the Jeon’s trusted babysitter.

My sister worked as Mrs. Jeon personal trainer. The woman would spend her whole day at the country club, pilates in the morning, then tennis and swimming lessons at the afternoon. She spent zero time with the kids, she is finally home after 7pm, but it was almost like she warded off her kids, I’m convinced she hates interacting with them, at nights she went to her room or to the patio to have dinner while FaceTiming an unknown man, that was my second hint that she could be cheating on Mr. Jeon, actually at that point I was pretty convinced. She went out with her friends during the weekend nights, going on clubs, bars or some girls night, she always had a plan, some days she wouldn’t come back until Monday morning, with her hair tangled and unkempt, pumps off and a dry colorless face.

She had fired the previous babysitter after she found out she was stealing some of the kids clothing and selling them online, she was an old lady who pretended to be a retired and experienced children psychologist, Mrs. Jeon never cared enough to read her resume, turns out she wasn’t, and it only took the effort of googling her name to find news about her other scams on rich families pretending to be a kind babysitter, and not only she was stealing the kids’ clothes, also Mrs. Jeon’s jewels.

Shortly after she hired a young kindergarten teacher, only lasted a week. Mrs. Jeon thought she was too flirty when she greeted her husband, truth is she never saw them interact, it might be the fact that the girl had a rising onlyfans page that Mrs. Jeon found about because the gardener had recognized her, and also because she was an impolite vegan, the girl demanded rudely to the chef to make her a special vegan meal, so Mrs. Jeon told her to not come back the next day.

Once the door clicked softly shut behind me, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Babysitting could be exhausting, but I cherished these moments of tranquility after the children had drifted off to dreamland. I made my way to the cozy living room, settled onto the plush sofa, eager to enjoy a few moments of relaxation.

My sister received a call for help from Mrs. Jeon. Desperate because if she didn’t find a new babysitter before the kids finished their school day she had to stay with them for the rest of the day. My sister said she sounded as if someone had died, in complete panic. I got my sister’s call for help, she wanted to be in her boss’ good side and also to get my ass out of the couch once and for all.

I had just graduated, and conveniently unemployed. I had tried my luck in a big city, completely failed and had to return home. Had been rotting in my family home for almost a month until my sister told me she had a job opportunity for me.

- Just focus on taking care of the kids, don’t engage with the male employees on the house, she will think you are fucking them, she hates sharing her men. And if you get to see Mr. Jeon when he arrives early from work just say good night without making eye contact, no more exchange, understood?

In fact, I had never seen Mr. Jeon in person. There were huge family pictures all around the house walls, and small frames on the shelves that portrayed his beautiful face.

Mr. Jeon is a handsome man, with youthful features and athletic physique. From chatting with the maids I learned that he goes jogging at 6 AM, to the gym at 7, has breakfast at 8, then heads to work until 9 to 10 at night when he arrives home, takes a shower and goes to bed.

As weeks went by, my love for the kids grew, just as much as my curiosity for their gorgeous father.

The couple didn’t share a room, in fact, apparently they hated each other. They were a happy pair until she was “forced” to bare his children. Both families had agreed to unite in all aspects including business, but the warranty was to have at least one male that would take over everything one day. They did, the youngest of the two children was a beautiful and healthy boy, but Mrs. Jeon was left traumatized and deformed after the pregnancies, which caused the fall of their successful marriage.

Linda, their oldest maid said that it all started even before they got married, because both were compulsive cheaters that enjoyed to have interaction with people bellow their status, such as maids, trainers, secretaries, drivers, bodyguards, etc.

As I reached for a book from the nearby shelf, I heard a faint rustling sound coming from the kitchen. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Perhaps it was just the house settling.

This weekend I had been tasked to stay over and take care of the kids while Mrs. Jeon was on a girls trip to Indonesia, she’s coming back on Monday.

I’d say Mrs. Jeon trusted me, I was her beloved personal trainer’s sister and I’ve been doing a good job taking care of the kids, acted as if the chef, the gardener, the drivers and the new pastry cook didn’t exist. She was happy with my work.

Her instructions were to just normally complete my Friday - Saturday routine with the kids, but to stay over to keep an eye on them at night, she didn’t trust the maids, one time she had a nightmare in which they all grabbed forks to kill them and fed her a broth made with their bones, ever since she’s been paranoid, she says they hate her so much she believes they are capable of doing it.

It was Friday night, the kids already asleep, I would usually go home after this, but I had to sleep on one of the guest rooms to check on the kids, and Saturday morning prepare them for their swimming lesson and entertain them for the rest of the day.

But then I heard it again, unmistakably—a soft shuffling, like footsteps moving across the tiled floor. My breath caught in my throat as I debated whether to investigate or retreat to the safety of the children's room. The staff had already ended their activities, they were all supposed to be in their chambers.

Summoning courage, I rose from the sofa and tiptoed towards the kitchen, my pulse quickening with each step. The dim light from the living room cast eerie shadows against the walls, adding to the sense of uneasiness that gripped me.

Peering cautiously around the corner, My eyes widened in astonishment. Standing in the center of the kitchen was a figure—Mr. Jeon, very alive and kicking.

He was so much more handsome in person, an unreal beauty. Blazer and tie off, sleeves up his elbows revealed his tattoos, they covered his whole right arm and hand, first three buttons undone letting me see part of his chest, he was bulked. A piercing adorning his lower lip, another on his right eyebrow, a couple more on his ears.

I had heard he did that to his body after he found out guys with piercings and tattoos gave Mrs. Jeon the ick. Apparently he really wanted her away from him.

- Who are you? He asked confused, looked like he already had a few drinks, was peering at the fridge looking for a beer.

- The babysitter.

- What happened to Ms. Barlowe? he asked while opening the beer can and pouring it in a glass.

- She was fired two months ago. I tried to respond as concisely as possible, but this man was making me feel things that would put this job on risk. He liked getting inside the staff’s panties? Then he could take me right here.

- What’s your name? How old are you?

- y/n, hadn’t you heard it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age. I’m old enough.

- Old enough? For what? He chuckled.

- To be your children’s babysitter. I said jokingly, nothing matters anymore, this man has me on my knees acting all flirty.

- Once we had a 16 year old. He said looking at me, taking a sip of his beer.

- Not that young, more like old enough to buy alcohol all that stuff. I said while looking down at my feet, shyness taking over me all of a sudden, I shouldn’t have said anything.

- Are you staying the night?

- Yes, I have to keep an eye on the kids while your wife is away.

- Then I’ll see you around doll, I need a shower. He winked and walked to leave the kitchen, when he passed by me he patted the top of my head.

What?! The nickname got me all confused and flustered, but then the way he touched my head, was it all in a “oh how cute” way? Or a “let’s fuck till daylight”?

I stood there, still processing the whole conversation we had, now I feel embarrassed.

Headed directly to the guest bedroom and took a shower too. I felt so hot, cheeks red and teary eyes. Got my pajamas on, don’t I own a prudish set? Pair of pants and an oversized tee. If he were to walk into the room and saw me wearing this, I bet he would laugh.

Of course I couldn’t sleep a wink. Thinking the hot man was somewhere under the same roof. Foolishly kept imagining things, the way his hands would feel against my skin, his big hands around my throat, long fingers inside my pussy. Oh god!

The mere three or four hours of sleep I got, I slept them like a dog, after about three orgasms I achieved by rubbing my clit. It felt awful afterwards. He was a married man after all, he didn’t love his wife but they were together, he got two children who I adored and spent a lot of time with.

Mr. Jeon would never look at me like that anyways, I bet he had a bunch of women already. Models, celebrities, escorts.

Saturday morning I had breakfast with the kids, I usually arrive after they had finished. Once done we head upstairs to get ready for their swimming lesson. They had a private instructor every Saturday to teach them how to swim, I sat on one of the pallets by the pool.

After the lesson ended, the kids wanted to stay and keep playing in the pool, it was a hot day since summer was around the corner.

- Pleaseee! You can grab one of mom’s swimsuits. The oldest daughter insisted I should join them on their little chasing game inside the water.

- I’d like to but it’s almost lunchtime and then we have things to do remember? You wanted to go to the supermarket and buy snacks. I insisted that it wasn’t a good idea, even though I really wanted to jump into the fresh water, but maybe it would seem shameless.

I ended up getting in. One of the maids brought me one of the many Mrs. Jeon’s bikinis, she told me she grabbed it from a big bag full of clothing she was about to throw away. It was a tiny black Valentino bikini with a white outline.

We played for a while and then got out to have lunch, we sat in the outdoor dining table, all soaked, the tips of our fingers wrinkled from spending too much time on the water.

And then he comes out from inside the house, wearing a black polo shirt tucked in a pair of navy blue jeans, black Saint Laurent sunglasses. He took them out and looked at me from head to toe, licking his lips.

Was he home the whole time?! I’ve never ran into him on Saturdays. I was standing up beside the table, opening a can of sprite for the youngest son.

The kids waved at his father and continued eating, he gave each a kiss on their forehead and stood in front of me.

- When is my mother supposed to pick them up? He said, head lowered to look at me in the eyes.

- Tomorrow morning.

- I’ll tell her to take them today, have everything ready. He said putting his glasses on and heading to the garage.

I’m already imagining things, foolishly thinking he might have a hidden intention to ask his mother to take the kids early, maybe all he wants is my ass out of his house and I’m here all nervous believing he might want some alone time to fuck my brains out, very unlikely.

Once the kids were gone I went to my room, packed everything. I was meant to leave after the grandma took the children TOMORROW, now they are gone and I’m confused on what should I do.

More like expecting Mr. Jeon to come home and…

Toc, toc, toc.

He opened the door and looked at me sitting on the edge of the bed.

- On my studio, in five. He said and quickly closed the door and left.

What the fuck?!

I was almost having a panic attack before I knocked his studio door three times. I decided to change into a white tank top, no bra, white cotton panties and a pair of blue stripped pants, what I had intended to wear tomorrow.

Heard a small come in, and opened the door to enter.

He was sitting in a grey loveseat, manspreading, left hand on his crotch, right holding a cigarette between his lips, such a breathtaking view.

- Come sit with me. He ordered patting the couch.

I walked slowly, still shaking from the nervousness. Sat next to him, hands and eyes on my tights, I couldn’t look at him.

- Is this what you want? He took my hand with both of his, which made me look at his face. He was waiting for an answer.

- What do you mean? Of course I knew what he meant, I guess I just wanted to hear him say it to be sure.

- Do you want me to fuck you? Here, right now?

Yes.

He grabbed my face by my chin and pressed his lips against mine. He let me set the pace at first. His lips were soft, breath tasted like tobacco. I could feel how at times he was struggling not to kiss me harder.

So I let him slide his tongue inside my mouth. He grabbed my hips to place me on his lap, groaning at the feeling of my covered pussy on top of his crotch. He bit and dragged my lower lip, his kisses started to descend from my chin to my neck.

- From the first moment I saw you, your eyes were pleading me to fuck you, then I saw you in that tiny bikini, so naughty.

My pussy was throbbing, his words and his desperate kisses against my skin had me drunk in pleasure already.

He took the hem of my top to remove it, tits bounced right in front of his eyes. He chuckled and looked at me with a smirk, grabbed them with his huge hands, caressing them as if they were two stress balls. With his thumb, he started rubbing my nipples, eyes on mine the whole time.

- You like that princess?

I was a moaning mess, nodded and arched my back. It felt so good, a numbing sensation right into my pussy hole, soaking wet.

He left my nipples to grab my buttocks, automatically started to rub myself on his bulge. He closed his eyes and moaned, then kissed my lips hungrily. Grabbed my waist and helped me pace my movements, he laid back on the couch, locking his eyes to mine.

I stood up to remove my pants, once off he grabbed my hips and sat me on his lap, this time my back against his chest. His rough hands start to brush my body, from my breasts to my stomach.

- Open your legs princess. Obeying immediately to his command, I was already desperate for his touch down there, couldn’t help but to feel powerless under his touch.

I whimpered as I felt his hands pushing my panties to the side, and started to stroke my clit. He then took his fingers to my entrance only to remove them quickly. I moaned and turned my head to look at him in disbelief. He brings his fingers up to my mouth, coated with my juices.

- Lick them.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his long fingers, doe eyes staring at his while circling my tongue against his digits. Spit dripping from my chin and his hands, such a filthy sight. He then removed them from my mouth producing a popping sound.

He took those two fingers down my pussy again, inserted them into my pulsing hole. His hands are skilled, every move he makes hits the right spot, I dropped my head back in pleasure and let out an embarrassingly loud moan, he started kissing my neck, sucking and licking.

- Such a filthy whore, you like my fingers? He said with a deep voice, groaning in my ear. His eyes were fixed in my pussy the whole time, he seemed to enjoy watching his fingers going in and out of my hole.

He had been fingering me for a while, when I felt that familiar response down my pussy, a numbing sensation signaling my orgasm was close to take place.

Jungkook thrusted and curled his fingers hitting the right spot with insane accuracy each time. His cock throbbed underneath me, my thighs trembled as I tried to keep them spreaded. The sight spurred him on as he added another finger, I groaned loudly at the stretch he was now giving me with three fingers.

- Come on baby, cum all over my hand. He mumbled against my ear. It didn’t take long for my release to come. Jungkook groaned, shifting his hips to get some friction himself as he helped you ride it out.

He laid me against the couch before his mouth littered hot kisses across my chest only pausing when he felt my fingers delicately trail along the waistband of his pants, looking forward to undo the button. Jungkook met my gaze with a smirk on his lips.

- Please sir, can I have your cock now? I asked, my eyes innocently blinked up at him. Jungkook groaned at my words, he felt himself twitch desperately against his cotton prison as he looked at my doe expression patiently waiting for him. He gently pushed me on the soft silk couch before beginning to free himself. His cock slapped against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip which he used as lubricant as he gave himself a few pumps.

My legs automatically opened for him to slot himself in between. I felt his tip prod at my entrance, he began to rub, coating his hard dick with my juices. Jungkook sunk himself into my throbbing heat. He started off at a slow pace, kissing my neck softly. Once he felt me clench him, Jungkook started to move faster.

My moans caused him to thrust harder as he found himself wanting to draw more of them out of my pretty lips. It didn’t take long for me to become cockdrunk as I clutch at his forearms, the intense arousal forming again in your stomach. Jungkook felt his balls tighten at my chants.

- Fuck! Yeah sir fuck me harder, I love how your cock feels inside me. My words spurring him to drive himself deeper inside me. My eyes rolled back and my body went limp in his arms as I came for the second time that night. My body was sensitive as he kept thrusting through My orgasm trying to chase his own. He watched my eyes roll as I let him continue to use me like the a slut.

- Oh my god! Sir, please cum inside me, I want your cum inside my pussy. My willingness to submit to him caused his hips to sputter and coat my walls. I could feel his cum warming me from the inside causing me to smile at the feeling of being full of the essence of my boss’s husband. The action solidified the new dynamic between the two of us.

Jungkook pulled his softening cock out of me gently, I heard him get off the couch and leave the room to get a wet cloth to help clean up the mess in between my legs. I snuggled my head into the pillows behind.

- You did so good for me baby, was this okay? Is this what you need? Jungkook asked, sitting next to me on the couch. He moved some hairs away from my face and began stroking my cheek awaiting a response.

- I loved it, thank you sir. I spoke with a soft smile. Jungkook’s helped me slip into the comfort of the bedding in the guest room, he laid in the bed scooping me into his embrace. I laid on his chest whilst he stroked my back, lulling me to sleep with his actions and for the first time I slept peacefully in the embrace of my new lover.

[littlelamy]

so this maybe a bit much but how about kook reader who’s parents are forcing her to get a job because of how much money she spends this kinda goes with the shopaholic one I also sent sorry but anyways when she finds out her parents are making her work she runs to Rafe to complain💖

a/n: i love this idea🥰 thank you for sending a request!

you stormed into rafe’s house without knocking, the heels of your sandals clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. rafe didn’t even flinch from his spot on the couch, though he lazily glanced up at you.

you dropped your designer purse on the floor with a huff and crossed your arms. “you’re not going to believe what my parents are making me do.”

rafe paused the game on tv, his lips quirking into that familiar cocky smile. “oh, this should be good. what’s got you all worked up this time, princess?”

you didn’t bother with the attitude he was throwing your way. you were too furious. "they're making me get a job."

for a split second, you could see the surprise flash in his eyes, but then rafe threw his head back and laughed. a full, rich laugh that sent heat rushing to your cheeks. this wasn’t funny. you stormed over to the couch and pushed at his legs with your hands. “it’s not a joke, rafe! i’m serious!”

“hold on, hold on,” he choked out between laughs, grabbing your wrists and pulling you closer until you were standing between his legs. “you? a job? yeah, right. what’re you supposed to be doing? selling clothes at the country club?”

you glared down at him, but the heat in his eyes as he pulled you closer made your anger falter. “no,” you shot back. “something way worse. they want me to work at my dad’s office. like, answering phones and…and filing paperwork.”

rafe gave you an amused look, his grip on your wrists loosening as he leaned back against the couch. “you—filing paperwork? yeah, that’s not happening.”

“exactly!” you burst out, relieved that at least someone understood. “i told them i could just cut back on the shopping, but they said i have to learn ‘responsibility’ and ‘work ethic’ and all this other bullshit. like, i didn’t grow up to file papers in some dusty office!”

rafe raised an eyebrow, looking far too entertained for your liking. “i mean, you have been running through their credit cards pretty hard lately, babe.”

you rolled your eyes and pulled your hands away from him, pacing a little as you vented. “i know, but it’s not like they can’t afford it! we’re kooks, for crying out loud. they’ve got money for days, and they’re freaking out over a few shopping sprees.”

rafe watched you with a bemused expression, his arms draped lazily over the back of the couch. “so, what? you want me to talk to them? convince them to back off?”

you stopped pacing and turned to him, your frustration simmering as you met his gaze. “no, I don’t want you to talk to them. i just…i needed to get out of there before I lost my mind. I needed to talk to someone who actually gets it.”

rafe tilted his head, his eyes darkening with something you couldn’t quite place. “oh, I get it,” he said slowly, standing up from the couch and closing the distance between you. “i get that you’re used to getting whatever you want, whenever you want it.” his hands found your waist, his grip possessive as he pulled you closer.

you narrowed your eyes, but the heat between your bodies was already melting your resolve. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

rafe smirked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he leaned in. “it means you’re used to running to me when you don’t get your way,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “and I usually give you what you want, don’t I?”

your heart raced as his fingers trailed along your sides, sending a shiver down your spine. he was right—you did run to him. rafe was the only one who never told you “no,” the one person who didn’t try to rein you in. he liked your wild side.

but you weren’t ready to admit that out loud. Instead, you tilted your chin up defiantly. “and what’s wrong with that? you like it, don’t you?”

rafe’s eyes darkened even more, and his grip tightened slightly. “oh, I do,” he admitted, his lips grazing your neck. “but this little job thing… maybe it won’t be so bad.”

you blinked, pulling back enough to look up at him. “what are you talking about?”

his smirk returned, more devious this time. “i'm saying maybe you could use the distraction. get your parents off your back, make them think you’re turning over a new leaf. play the good little daughter for a while.”

your eyes narrowed, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. “you’re serious?”

rafe shrugged, his hands still resting on your hips. “why not? do the bare minimum, show up, file a couple of papers or whatever, and then come back to me when you’re done. it’ll be like a game.”

you considered it for a moment, the thought of playing along to keep your parents off your case while still getting what you wanted. you didn’t love the idea of working—any job sounded awful—but if it meant keeping them off your back, maybe Rafe was right. maybe you could pull this off.

“you think I could do that?” you asked, biting your lip.

rafe chuckled, his hands sliding lower. “babe, you can do anything you set your mind to. just as long as you keep running back to me afterward.”

your pulse quickened at the heat in his voice, and for the first time since your parents had dropped the bomb on you, you felt a little more in control. maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“fine,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “but if this blows up in my face, i’m blaming you.”

rafe grinned, pulling you in close. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

backhand stroke (18+)

tennis coach!Aemond x tennis player!reader

Rivals on and off the court, things come to a head between the two when Aemond crosses the line and sabotages the reader's relationship.

themes : challengers inspired, Art Donaldson is featured <3, a lot of cussing, smut!!! (minors dn fckin i), the reader and Aemond hate each other (but if they hate each other why are they fcking), reader may or may not be a cheating bastard, Aemond has a glass eye + he calls the reader ace

a/n : initially I was about to write a fic where Aemond and the reader are actual rivals themselves, but quickly remembered how tennis works 💀 so in this one, Aemond is a coach and reader is a player 🎾

word count : 8k ▪︎ masterlist

The Westeros Open is the biggest and most prestigious tennis tournament in the country. 

Anyone who wants to be someone in the sport aims to qualify for it. 

For you, it is everything. You have devoted your entire life to tennis. It started as something that stemmed from your parents' neglect. Rich folks who signed their young daughter up for extensive tennis lessons just so they can be free of her and galivant off to wherever. 

You had sat there, staring at your shiny, brand-new white tennis shoes. Holding your unused top-of-the-line racket. Hair kept away from your face with a headband that still smelled like the store. 

Mostly left alone by your family, you gathered your strength, and dragged your weak eight-year-old legs across the tennis court day in and day out. 

Through the years, you found yourself. You found home, and you gave everything you had to make sure you would never lose it.

As luck would have it, you found romance along the way in Art Donaldson, who became your coach after your previous one decided to quit. He used to be a player, until he fell out of love with the game, and chose to coach up and coming players instead. 

You had been wary of getting involved with him, but eventually you couldn’t resist. He turned out to be the perfect boyfriend - caring, sweet, attentive to your every need. He became your partner in both tennis and in life. Truly, you couldn’t want for anything else.

You shouldn’t. 

So why does it feel like there is something missing?

And why is that void one that only Aemond Targaryen can fill?

The gigantic poster propped up in the inner courtyard of the country club lets everyone know that your next qualifying match in the Westeros Open is against none other than Helaena Targaryen. 

Your image looms up to around twenty feet, with Helaena’s lithe figure on the other side. The perfectionist in you can’t help but scrutinise the details in your expression and your form. Was that really what you looked like mid-serve? You laugh dryly, feeling silly at your misdirected concern.

You like Helaena, and she’s always been cordial to you outside of your matches. The issue lies with her more brash and calculating brother and coach. 

Something - or rather someone - shuffles behind you. Close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on attention. 

"I wish I could say that you look good up there, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Think of the devil and he shall appear. You don't have to turn around to know who it is. 

Aemond fucking Targaryen. Once at his prime, known for his freely expressing his passion and rage on the court, earning him the title 'the bad boy of tennis'. It was this drive, this relentlessness, that propelled his game. Unfortunately, it also served to be his downfall. After a few years as the sport's #1 male player, his career came to an end after an off-court altercation with an opponent that took his eye.

Now he is the coach of one of your top rivals and upcoming match opponent, his sister Helaena. 

Which is why it should come as no surprise to you that he has made it his mission to get under your skin, with all his unwarranted flirty remarks, constant staring, and how he tirelessly interacts with everything you post on social media. 

It used to be tame, by his standards anyway, with things like, ‘You need to work on that backhand’ or ‘I’m guessing Donaldson doesn’t train you well enough.’

But then the messages took a different turn. You once posted a picture of you in a fancy, revealing gown when you attended the annual gala, and he responded with, ‘It’s easy to see that all your training has paid off, ace.’

You chocked it all up to playful aggression. He’s just trying to get you to lower your guard, and distract you. You knew better than to look too much into the apparent interest he gives you. 

He is notorious for being a playboy, after all. Dirty blonde hair perfectly tousled, designer tracksuits he wears with such snobbishness, a presence that can command an entire room. You’ve grown to heavily dislike the seemingly permanent smug sneer on his lips, and how he sometimes treats others like they’re nothing but gum stuck on the soles of his fancy tennis shoes.

A handsome rogue who possesses a lot of talent and who is aware of his status as a hot commodity can be dangerous indeed. If he can say that Helaena Targaryen’s best opponent is nothing but another notch on his bedpost, then he will never let that live down. 

More importantly, you are already spoken for. Aemond knows this - not that he cares - but whatever he thinks about your relationship doesn’t matter. 

“Aemond.” You don’t turn to face him, continuing to scrutinise the gigantic poster. “Is that the best you got?”

He shrugs, positioning himself right in your line of sight, clearly demanding more attention. “You don’t just look good. You look good enough to fucking eat, ace. Too bad about the shitty attitude.”

Hot then cold, nice then nasty. Aemond will never change. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I thought I told you not to call me that. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else training your sister? She’s gonna need it.”

He steps closer, invading your space. You look him directly in the eye like you’re squaring up with an opponent. This has always been your dynamic. Neither one backing down, neither one ever really dealing a blow. 

Just constant dizzying electricity. 

Sooner or later, it will all come to a head. Whether it will be your fault or his, the jury is still out on that. 

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” he patronises, his deep blue almost violet eye sparkling. On the opposite was his glass eye, only adding to his intimidating nature. He hadn’t opted for one that resembled his real eye, but rather a hazy white apparatus, making him appear ghoulish, almost ghostlike. Nestled in his left eye socket, framed by a faded maroon gash, it made him look every bit like the charismatic rogue of tennis that he is known to be. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere receiving instruction from Donaldson? Not that you’ll get much out of it.”

“Art and I are on top of our training, not that it’s any of your damn business. You should concern yourself with your sister’s game.” 

“If only that were actually true, ace, but unfortunately I believe that your sweet Art wastes too much of his fucking time being on top of you.”

“Fuck off, Targaryen,” you respond, trying to push the allure of his scent out of your mind. Pungent cologne and cigarette smoke, a blend that you’ve come to associate only with him. “Stay out of my business, and quit messaging me.”

“You like how we talk.”

“Trust me, I don’t.”

“Does Donaldson know?” Fully aware that Art has never had a liking for him, he knows that will hit a nerve. 

Your face falls, like you’ve been caught in the act. Even though you've done nothing wrong. Occasionally caving in and responding to Aemond’s messages surely isn’t crossing the line. What started out as a couple of offhand fuck offs from your end turned into actually sharing private jokes about the other matches and training and - heavens forbid - small talk about the goddamn weather. 

You’ve come to know that his favourite colour is green. Not the neon of a tennis ball, but a bluish-tinted pine. 

Not that it matters. 

Encounters such as this one also don’t mean anything. Never mind however much you find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? You have eyes, and you’re only human. Nothing more to it. 

Never mind how, some nights, in what can only be construed as momentary states of delirium, you have imagined him in Art’s place. 

Never mind just how much he gets under your skin, like no one else can, and how you can’t admit to yourself that you might actually like it.

Oh, you might actually be making yourself sick at all these thoughts. 

“There’s nothing for him to know.” You step to the side, indicating that you want to walk away. But he has you cornered and you both know it. 

He smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, ace. But you can’t deny - ” He steps close again. He suddenly tilts your face toward him with one hand, but you shake your head and his fingers lose their hold. “ - this. Us.”

Damn him. And damn the shiver that just ran up your spine. 

You stand still, entranced by the look he’s giving you. Trick or not, Aemond sure does have a way of looking at you as if he sees you for who you really are. Not the tennis prodigy. Not the public personality. You remain a shell of that broken kid that poured everything she had into this sport, much like he had, only to come out the other end still not whole, still searching for something inexplicably out of reach. And he sees just that - just you.

You feel like Art holds you up on a pedestal, not seeing the flaws that make you who you are. But you’ve always been happy to play the perfect girlfriend. 

Until Aemond. 

But he’s too much. Too forward, too brash, too intoxicating. You can never know what he’s going to do next. You can’t like him. You have to be certain that you don’t.

But then again… love and hate have always been two sides of the same coin.

He whispers, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you, “Match point, ace.”

Match point. You could have him. He could have you. He makes it evident that the next move is all yours. “Don’t go out of bounds, Targaryen,” you warn him lowly. 

“What if I want to?”

You have him. He has you.

And you… have Art. 

Clearing your throat, and your head, you finally step back. His head snaps up to follow you, disappointment evident on his face. 

“See you around, Targaryen.” You spin on your heel, walking away, immediately feeling lighter. Emptier, feeling like your body begs to drift closer to him, two equal magnets. 

“Ace,” he calls to you, walking after you when you don’t turn around. “Wait a second,” he reappears right in front of you, effectively halting your stride.

You grumble hastily, “God, you really have a space issue, don’t you, Aemond?”

“Meet me in the courtyard gardens,” he says, a new intensity lacing his voice, “tonight. After dinner. Or whenever you can. Just - ”

“No.”

“Come on, ace.” His tone is insistent, with no trace of his usual bravado and cockiness. “I think… I need to tell you something.”

Part of you wants to cave in, and just agree to whatever it is that he’s proposing, but that nagging voice in the back of your mind is adamant that it would not be right. What would Art think? But what if Aemond truly just wants to tell you something?

“So tell me now.”

His jaw clenches hard, and you can’t help but admire the taut edges of his face. “No, I want to do this, just you and me. When we’ll be alone - ”

“Aemond - ” you start to shake your head, trying hard to come up with a refusal that he will actually register. 

“Donaldson doesn’t need to know,” he almost pleads. “This is between you and me, ace. You just have to hear me out.”

You take a deep breath, unable to understand just what it is he means. “If it’s something I have to hide from my boyfriend, then it’s not gonna happen. You have to see just how messed up that is, Targaryen.”

Either he can’t hear you, or he just does not want to accept your response. “I’ll wait for you. Right around midnight then, ace? Should give you plenty of time to sneak out.”

Before you can say no, again, he hastily plants a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, in surprise and perhaps pleasure at the softness of his lips, and when you open them once more, he is no longer flooding your space. 

You spy him entering a set of glass doors, leaving you there stunned.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Aemond kicks at another pebble, the sound momentarily breaking the silence in the gardens.

He’d checked his watch just seconds before, the face of it spitting on what remains of his eagerness. 

Twelve fucking fifteen. 

Either you just got held up by your whiney rat-faced boyfriend, or you’re a no-show.

Aemond doesn’t know which one is worse. He did not know what he was expecting in the first place. Did he actually think that you would do as he says? You never were good at following orders, much less those from someone whom you likely view as something of a nuisance.

Is that really what you see him as? Isn’t there something more at play here?

Something that keeps Aemond up at night, when he can no longer deny that it is not because he dislikes you that you plague his thoughts, but because he admires you. He does admire you, he sees no shame in admitting that. 

As a tennis player. As a competitor. Anyone who feigns ignorance at your insane potential would just be lying to themselves. 

As a woman? A… partner? No. It has to be no, doesn’t it? You hate him, you make it clear now and again. You disagree with him, challenge his views, point out his flaws. Surely, he can’t be attracted to you in a way that commands his heart. You are beautiful, he doesn’t deny this, but so were the dozens of other girls he had run through. 

Each time he watches you perform your signature backhand stroke, with that sensual growl escaping your lips and the lewd grace with which your body bends, Aemond feels his sanity slipping away.

You drive him crazy, but he can't be crazy about you. 

The only reason he asked you to meet him, is because he wants to propose that he replace Art as your coach. Helaena has expressed that she wants to retire, and focus on some other creative pursuits. Something insignificant to Aemond, that he can’t remember what it was exactly. A pottery business? A fucking flower shop? He doesn’t care to know. 

It’s perfect, he thinks, because your game is superior anyway. It’s what first got his attention, and now he can take part in your process. He can direct you, shape you. He can do so much better than Art Donaldson, and he’s sure you know this too. 

Maybe then you might actually open up to him the way you opened up to Art. With your absence tonight, it dawns on him that he might actually have to resort to other measures. Did he seriously think he would be able to simply reason with you about this? 

He sits for another half-hour on a bench nestled among the rose bushes. Surrounded by flowers of deep scarlet, a maroon he distinctly remembers as being your favourite colour. He fools himself into believing that he’s using the time to craft a plan for what’s to come, and not that he’s wasting it on the hope that you might emerge from the tall hedges, out of breath and eyes glinting eager to find him. 

Well, you played your hand. Now he knows what he has to do.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You wake up groggy the following morning, having tossed and turned the entire night, thinking about Aemond.

Had he been out there, waiting for you? Your mind came up with the different possibilities of what he has to say. Or if he had nothing to say at all, and it was all just another ruse. 

You told yourself that you didn’t want to meet up with him, but you had an alibi prepared. One of your old tennis club mates agreed to cover for you and say that you were having drinks together, just in case Art ever checks up. 

But as you were about to deliver the excuse, Art had said something about you and him not getting to spend as much quality time anymore. The past few weeks have been occupied with nothing but tennis, and though it’s a shared activity that you both value, he wanted to stay in for the night with you. He ordered room service, downloaded two films that were on your watchlist, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually gave up on meeting Aemond. 

It can wait, whatever it is. 

Besides, isn’t this the right thing to do? Did you seriously consider having a midnight rendezvous with the guy who you claim to dislike the most? Someone who encourages you to keep secrets from your boyfriend? What good could possibly come out of that?

With a heaving sigh, you push all thoughts of last night from your mind. There are bigger things at hand. The biggest tennis tournament of the year, for one. 

You make your way to the dining hall of your hotel. Art had woken up before you, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek and explaining how he had to discuss some matters with your physical team. He wore the skin of a tennis coach as perfectly as that of a boyfriend. 

And here you are, regretting that you were unable to meet up with another man the previous night.

The art deco layout of the lobby extends into the spacious dining hall, the interior of the hotel filled with geometric patterns and rich jewel tones. You once bid Aemond guess what your favourite interior design was, and he got it in two tries, complete with a spiel of how it reflects your personality. Art, on the other hand, had been adamant that your favourite was minimalist. That was the first time you realised that his perspective of you was different from Aemond’s. 

You hadn’t yet reconciled with who is more accurate, lest it shine a light on something deeper. 

The hostess is cheerful and full of pep as she leads you to your table. You know it’s coming - she’ll ask you for a picture in just a moment, and you’re proven right when she reaches in her pocket and her phone materialises inch by inch. She seems shy to ask, ready to turn on her heel with a stiff smile if you refuse, so you do your best to be encouraging.

When the photo is taken and she finally lowers her phone, you spy someone out in the distance and you make it out to be none other than your boyfriend. Leaning by the outdoor terrace, appearing to be speaking to another person you can’t yet make out, their face obscured by the decorative shrubbery scattered across the area. 

You walk to the side to get a better view of who it is. That tall figure, clad in a black tracksuit… a familiar head of blonde hair… and the unmistakable cut of his jawline. Realisation sets in. Art is speaking to Aemond. 

Your stomach sinks, the thought of breakfast no longer enticing. Frozen in the middle of the dining hall, you begin to attract the attention of others. 

Aemond turns his head, perfectly timed for his gaze to meet yours. Like something out of a grim movie, your anxiety spikes as his smug smirk materialises in slow motion. 

If there ever were a match at hand between you two, that smirk makes it clear that he has won it. 

Art follows his gaze, also meeting yours, but without any trace of satisfaction. He looks at you accusingly. You shake your head at him, but you already know. 

This is not going to end well. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Is it true?”

You had wordlessly followed Art back to your hotel suite, the air around you thick with dread and anticipation.

“What did Aemond say?” You stand in front of him as he calmly sits by the window, as if you’re on the trial stand. You just might be.

“Guess,” Art spits mockingly. “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know him quite well.” You bristle at his tone. He’s never spoken to you like this before. 

“Whatever he told you, it’s not what it looks like, okay? You know Aemond. He likes to mess around with people, especially us.”

Art shakes his head in disbelief, “He even showed me some of your messages. Some of them you must have sent - what, at 3 or 4 in the fucking morning? When you’re lying next to me in bed? Not getting a lot of sleep apparently. It must be why you’re not on top of your game.”

He’s not playing fair, and you deserve this. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you say through gritted teeth, making the statement sound as firm as possible, because it’s not just Art you’re attempting to convince. You want to believe it too. 

“He’s said some things about me.”

“And I defended you.”

“Not well enough,” he shakes his head. “It sounded almost normal for you. Spewing bullshit to each other.”

“It’s just… it’s all just banter.” God, you sound so terrible. “Riling each other up to get into the mindset before matches.”

“All that… all that, I can kind of understand. It’s the other things. The intimate things that get on my nerves.”

“What - ” You can’t form the proper response to that. 

“I missed talking to you, he once said. To which you replied that you do too.”

“That’s nothing.”

“You said that he inspired you.”

“That’s… that… he’s a great talent,” you stammer, as the statements he throws worsen. “He always has been. Even you can’t deny that.”

The argument goes on for an uncomfortable length of time, with Art reminding you of things that you and Aemond had apparently messaged each other, and you trying to play them off as insignificant. 

Gradually, you convince Art that Aemond is just a thorn in your side. That Aemond was just overplaying the messages to get under his skin. That letting this break your relationship would be giving Aemond what he wants. 

But everything he said - the messages he brought back to the surface, the encounters that were brought up - made you realise the depth of your involvement with Aemond. 

You are fooling yourself, just as much as you are fooling Art.

He finally stands, heading towards the door. “I’ve spoken to our physical team. Meet us at the gym in 15.”

“Art.”

He halts, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You’re worried about what you’ll see in his face if he does.

“Are we okay?” you ask.

He turns to the side, and you catch a glimpse of the man you love, his once blithe demeanour reduced to a brief, forced smile. He nods once, and you sag in relief. When he is finally out the door, you collapse onto the bed and press your knuckles to your eyes. 

You feel it all at once. 

Anger. Frustration. That fear of inevitability coming to fruition. This was bound to happen and a part of you knew it was coming.

Aemond screwed you over, and it’s high time you put an end to everything.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The gardens. Midnight. 

The message had been sent. The last one you will ever send to Aemond Targaryen if things go as planned. 

You have it rehearsed and perfected in your mind - how you will give him a piece of your mind, how you will tell him off and tell him to fuck off for good. 

As long as you think of Art…  As long as you don’t lose yourself, then…

“You’re lucky I’m not standing you up, Ace. Not like what you did to me.” The bastard has appeared directly behind you, as per his custom, so close you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck. 

You immediately turn to face him, and he stands calmly in his signature black tracksuit, his lips curled in their usual manner. “I never agreed to meet you that night.”

His smile is derisive, the sight of it sharp and cruel under the moonlight. “I thought we had sort of a code of honour, you and I. That we’d never lie to each other. Never let the other person down.”

“Honour?” you say mockingly. “I call bullshit. Trying to ruin my relationship… is that part of it?”

He looks away, shaking his head at your accusation. “I only did what you don’t have the fucking guts to do. Your relationship with Donaldson was ruined the moment we…” He trails off, brows furrowing. His gaze meets yours, revealing the truth that sits underneath his mask of arrogance. One that only you are allowed to see. He appears to take on a different smile this time, softer and less pronounced. The curses you want to hurl get caught in your throat when he looks to your lips and hums faintly to himself, almost as if he’s forgotten that you are in the middle of an argument. 

You take a step back, and it shakes him out of his reverie. It shakes the both of you out of it. 

“Well? Let’s fucking hear it then.” You raise your arms in a gesture, egging him on. 

“Hear what?” he says, having the gall to be confused.

“What did you want to tell me that night? Tell me now, because you’ll never get the chance again.”

He straightens, getting his thoughts in order. He completely forgot about that issue, and talking is increasingly becoming the last thing he wants to do right now. He wants to put his lips to better use. Something more worthwhile. “Helaena’s retiring,” he finally decides on saying, “and I think I should be your coach.”

You’re dumbfounded for a moment, his proposition whirring in your head. It makes sense, it does. He just gets you. But then again… 

“That’s rich,” you reply. “Do you think I would ever give up Art? He’s always been my coach and he’s damn good at it.”

“You’re not compatible,” he counters, “in the court and out of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He doesn’t see you,” he affirms. He would never lie to you, and he isn’t about to start now. He repeats, “He doesn’t see you, but I do.”

His words strike true, and it feels as if he’s just pulled the rug from underneath you, and you’re falling, falling… 

Right into his arms. And the impact is jarring, because it’s real. 

“We can’t.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, a reflection of your weakening restraint.

“Yes we can, ace.” He takes a step closer, and he lifts his hand as if on instinct, reaching for your face. But he’s frozen, unsure of how far he can toe the line that already lies fragile between you. “It should be you and me.”

Your eyes follow his movements, because you know you want him to give in and hold you. To touch your face. To kiss you.

And it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. 

“I have to go.” Your voice carries no emotion. You avert your gaze at the last second and catch the defeat that flashes across his face. It should come as a surprise that it pains you to see him like this, but then again, you see him as he sees you. You always have. Which renders your next words among the most painful to come out of your mouth. “We can’t do this anymore. Art already doesn’t trust me, and if this goes on, it’s only going to make things worse. I can’t talk to you - ” 

“No.” 

“- and I won’t be responding to anything- ”

“Stop fucking talking.” His anger is fledgling, rising to the surface. There is no way he will calmly accept these terms. “I said no, ace.”

“It’s… it’s the right thing to do,” you murmur, still unable to look at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. We run in the same circles. But we can’t be… us.”

“Forget it,” he seethes, trying to catch your eyes, and growling low when you don’t relent. “Forget him, ace. Or do whatever the fuck you want. But not this, I’m not having this.”

You exhale, having gotten the worst of it out of your chest. It’s over now. But it’s not a relief that you feel. It’s remorse. 

“Goodbye, Aemond.” With that, you finally take him in once more, and one glance is enough to shatter your resolve. His heightened ill temper shines clearly across his distinguished features. Under the midnight moon, he resembles a fallen angel, long dark blonde lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His shadowy, glass eye strangely adding to the appeal. 

Beautiful. And just not yours. 

One last, lingering look - then you walk away. The silence is deafening, and you feel numb all over. Your knuckles are taut at your sides, fingernails digging in your palms to keep those pesky, errant tears at bay. You’ve suffered defeat before, but this is much worse, because it’s coming solely from your own hand. How easily you give him up, someone who was never yours, and how badly it stings. 

“No,” you hear him say again, and you pray he shuts up so you can keep walking. 

He doesn’t. He repeats the word - no - over and over like some mantra under his breath. One second you feel nothing. Nothing at all. But then the wind whooshes around you and you’re being spun around to face him. 

And then, his lips claim yours, and you feel everything. 

Sounds come rushing back to you. His ragged panting against your lips, the pads of his fingertips kneading the back of your head, the wet smacking of his mouth on your own. The empty pit in your stomach is filled with those clichéd butterflies. More so when one of his hands travels down to grasp your waist and press your body against his. 

“Aem - ” Your mind catches up to you, and you try to say his name to get him to pause, but he slides his tongue past your teeth. 

“Shut up and kiss me, ace.” He breaks free for but a second, then hungrily kisses you again. You let him. You give in completely.

“Mmm, Aemond.” Your hands reach up to cradle his face and he takes that as an opportunity to pull back and openly admire you.

“You’re my ace,” he professes, connecting his forehead to yours. “And I’m not fucking losing you.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You rush through the lobby of the hotel, hand in hand and giggling like schoolchildren as you duck your heads so as not to get recognised by the night concierge. 

With reckless abandon, your entwined bodies stumble into his suite, which just happens to be on the floor below yours. You once thought you would have to be inebriated beyond belief to surrender to a sin like this, and in a way you are. You’re high off of him - Aemond in his entirety, six feet of lean muscle, notorious foul-mouthed one-eyed libertine. 

“Fuck, ace.” He has his arms wrapped around you from behind, and he nips at your exposed neck. His touch roams and finds the mounds of your breasts, kneading mindlessly over your shirt. The sound that reverberates from his throat is carnal, and you feel it echo through your whole body. It drives you to press your ass against him, taking full notice of his hardness straining from his sweatpants. 

Feeling mischievous, you do it again, gripping his arms to anchor yourself while grinding against his cock. 

“Foul play,” he whispers against your neck, “you fucking minx.”

“There are no rules now.” You face him, running a finger along his jawline as you walk backward and he follows suit. Stopping at the edge of his bed, you strip out of your shirt, careful to keep your eyes locked on his the whole time. 

The movement is too slow for Aemond, and he desperately needs more. He pushes you onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He slides your sweatpants off your legs, then lets his hand drag from your ankle to your inner thigh. He promptly undresses, graceless and in a rush, until all his clothes are left in a heap on the carpet. 

His cock stands on attention, taut and goddamn long. You feel an ache below that compels you to rub your legs together, but he beats you to it and slides your underwear right off. “I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he croons. “Bet you taste so sweet.”

You take your bra off and you’re finally left completely bare. He spreads your legs and positions himself in between. He uses one hand to squeeze your breast and the other to keep your legs propped wide open. 

His eye meets yours, before he settles in, lowering his head until he’s breathing cool air onto your pussy. “Match point, ace.” 

You have him. He has you. 

When Aemond’s tongue plunges deep into your throbbing core, swirling inside like he wants to consume you whole, you have to bite your tongue to hold back a scream.

He knows what he’s doing, of course he does, and he’s so fucking good.

“Yes - yes - keep going, baby, fuck -  ” you moan, words breathy and irregular. 

He sticks two fingers into your wetness, using it to spread you wider, leveraging his tongue ever deeper. In and out they go, faster than the fuck, fuck, fucks coming out of your mouth in blissful sputters. 

He suddenly stops, a guttural hmm echoing from his lips, and you look down to see his lips coated in a mixture of his spit and your pre cum. “Not so fast, ace,” he taunts. “You’ll come when I say.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, still widespread and exposed to him. “What, are you coaching me through it?” 

He hums in affirmative and leans in to kiss you, juices still dripping from his chin. 

“You gonna follow my orders, ace?” he asks, and your mind spirals at how utterly lewd it sounds. 

“Wouldn’t you like that, Targaryen?” You let out another moan, biting your lip when he hungrily sucks on your breast. “Let’s see what you got first.”

He smiles at your playful instigation. It’s always come natural, this riffing back and forth. But this midnight dalliance - he wants it to be honest. He needs you to realise how much he wants you. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He gets on his knees, a hand braced on each of your thighs, his hardened cock at the ready. 

“Ma’am?” you breathe, a laugh dying in your throat when you his tip prods at your entrance.

“I can be agreeable under the right circumstances, ace.” He torments you by pushing his cock in but an inch. 

“Fuck me, Aemond,” you cuss in frustration, then, literally, “Fuck me. Please.”

His eyes take you in, one darkened blue and one ghostly pale glass. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says. “You good for it, ace?” He nods once, referring to whether a condom is needed and you take the hint right away.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Perks of having a top-of-the-line physio team. They hook you up on other things too.” Your cocky-athlete way of stating that you are on the pill. 

The lights are dim in the room, but you clearly see the resolve settle on Aemond’s face. He parts his lips like he wants to say something more, and you tilt your head questioningly. 

He feels the need to make some sort of declaration. Something true. It doesn’t seem right to say those damned three words at this moment, no matter how much he means them. You could think he’s trying to trick you in order to get what he wants. A good lay and nothing else. So he doesn’t say anything and lets the silence speak for itself. If you know him as you claim to, then you’ll see. 

You’ll see just how much this means to him.

You nod, and it’s an unspoken plea. 

He thrusts his cock into you with such force, stretching your walls with a sudden and blinding ache, until he is buried to the hilt. He reaches and cradles your face with one hand, the other keeping your ankle propped by his shoulder. 

“Move, Aem.” You buck your hips against him, his cock squelching in and out again.

“Yeah, baby?” He complies with his hips in response. “That feel good?”

“Yes. God yes.”

A switch flicks inside of him, and he almost snarls through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good, ace. Your pussy takin’ me so well…” His hips buck faster, in abrupt snapping motions, burying his cock each damn time. He connects your legs together and turns you to your side, altering the position slightly. 

You look behind your shoulder and see that feral look etched on his face. His grip is tight on the flesh of your hips and the curve of your ass, having it raised slightly for his convenience. He smacks your behind with an open palm, and it elicits a lusty moan out of you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “So beautiful like this, dripping around my fucking cock, huh? My good girl.”

The noises you release as a result are unintelligible. You press your face against the pillow in sheer pleasure, muffling your sounds. 

“I wanna hear you, baby,” Aemond protests. With practised ease, he repositions you so your ass is propped high before him, your body bent forward as you have to lean on your forearms to keep from planting your face on the sheets. 

He doesn’t ease up on his relentless thrusting, and you’re left squirming and cock-drunk. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you’re blissed-out on what only Aemond can give you.

“Does he fuck you as good?” he spits in obvious distaste. “I don’t think so, baby. Can’t fuck this pussy like I do.” 

“N-no,” you whimper, without any trace of guilt. “Only you, Aem.”

“Hmm,” he simpers. “Come for me, ace. Be a good girl now. Come around my cock, yeah?”

“Mhhmm,” you pant, growing weaker and weaker at his statements, your walls tensing for that release you crave.

“You’re mine, ace. Mine.”

Your whimper comes out sudden and unrestrained as you let go, and feel your warm juices leaking down your thighs. The sounds of his cock growing noisy and sloppier. He releases not long after, with a few sharp spasms, decorating your insides with his cum. 

Marking someone who is not supposed to be his. 

But nothing else matters as he crumples against you and pulls you into his arms. If something is to be reconciled with, it won’t be for tonight.

With these things, regret always comes along with the sunrise.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“40 - 30.”

The crowd cheers at the umpire’s announcement. You can barely make out the faces morphing together into one homogeneous mob, but you’ve observed enough to know that Aemond isn’t among them. Rivulets of sweat drip down your face and you walk to the side as another break starts. 

Helaena nods at you from the opposite side of the court, and you respond with a terse smile.

She resembles him so much - the one you’ve been avoiding for the past three days. With that same distinct shade of blonde hair and deep blue eyes, but possessing an aura of tenderness about her. If Aemond wasn’t lying about her plan to retire, then it makes perfect sense. She seems too good for the sport, too pure, whereas you fit right into its cruel constraints.

What sort of person would have done what you did, some nights ago, and be able to walk with their head held high? You want to believe that you regret sleeping with Aemond, that you would reverse your actions, given the chance. But the pain that eats at you is that you might have fucked things up for good, abruptly leaving before he woke up that morning. 

It’s ironic - you may just get what you said you wanted. To end things. Never to be the same with him again. 

You slump in your seat, wiping at your face with a towel, pushing all thought of Aemond from your mind. 

From your periphery, you catch Helaena gesturing to you. She smiles, and you think that your emotions must show so clearly on your face that she feels bad for you. 

She nods, and tilts her head to the side, so that you follow her gaze. Standing courtside, partially hidden in the corner just behind the barriers, you see Aemond closely watching you. 

He came after all. You turn back to Helaena, unable to hide your surprise, and she sends another smile your way. She knows. Of course she does. 

With renewed excitement, the match continues. It only takes one more point, one final ace, and you emerge triumphant. The court fills with cheers and sounds of celebration. It is declared that you are advancing to the next round of the tournament. You meet Helaena in the middle and she firmly shakes your hand, exhibiting no sign of disappointment. 

“Congratulations! Very well played.” She drops her racket and grasps your hand with both of hers. She leans closer, and adds, “You know, I also consider it a win for myself, because my last ever match is against the girl my brother is in love with.”

You forget where you are, the revelation rendering everything else moot. The cheering crowds disappear, and it’s just you and Helaena as she dips her head comfortingly, assuring you that you heard her words true.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she lets go finally, with a cheerful, “go celebrate!”

You feel yourself being whisked away, cameras flashing from all sides. Art appears in front of you and he pulls you into an embrace. Several onlookers gush at the sight. You barely take notice of them, your eyes already drifting to where Aemond was standing. 

There he remains, casually leaning against the barriers. Some audience members realise that the great Aemond Targaryen stands among them, and one by one a small crowd forms around him, asking for pictures and autographs.

He continues to hold your gaze, his usual smirk making an appearance, ignoring a guy waving a camera at his face. You shake your head at the scene, a genuine laugh bubbling from your lips.

You nod to each other, as if acknowledging the absurdity of it all, and leave it at that. There’s a lot more to be said, for another time. Art wraps his arm around your waist, and Aemond takes it as his cue to look away, relenting to the eager fans surrounding him.

You direct your gaze to your boyfriend, immediately seeing the recognition in Art’s eyes. He’s seen everything. 

He doesn’t need to be as acutely perceptive as Helaena to realise the truth. That of the one-eyed rogue and his ace. You’ve been drifting from him for so long, that it was only a matter of time. 

He was your friend first, and he always will be. You’ve watched each other grow, through endless mistakes and challenges, and there’s a fire in you he cannot match. 

But Aemond can. He knows this now. 

He extends a hand out to you, one which you accept with poorly masked caution. He understands how woeful it must be, to tear yourself apart from being in love with someone else. The shame and uncertainty that must entail. 

For both your sakes, he decides that he has to be the bigger person and do the right thing. 

“What do you say?” Art offers to you. “Post match treat?” he asks, referring to your tradition of sharing a large strawberry sundae after games. 

“Okay.” Your smile is sweet and unguarded, and it reminds him of when you first met, nearly six years ago. That day, he knew he had made a lifelong friend. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“I wish I could say I’m happy to see you here, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Aemond swivels toward the sound of your voice, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips. 

“Vile habit, Targaryen.” You wrinkle your nose, and he just shakes his head and crushes the butt of his cigarette under his shoe.

“Yeah, well.” He merely shrugs. He was dead set on quitting, but something came up the past couple of days, causing his anxiety to reach new heights. When you ignored him after the night you shared, he can’t fault himself for reaching for depraved solace in nicotine. But no substance would ever be enough to erase the precious memory of watching you come undone. 

“Not happy to see me, ace?” he refers back to your greeting, not bothering to hide the hurt he feels. 

You walk closer to him, trying to hold back a smile. “Well, I lied. But it’s not like I haven’t lied before.” You stop when you’re right in front of him, the remnants of his smoke making you feel woozy. “I also lied when I said that we can’t keep being us anymore. When I said goodbye.”

“Hmm,” his lips curl at your confession. “Judging by how wildly you fucked me after you said that, I could already tell.”

You roll your eyes, but you already feel so much better, like things are falling right back into place. All it took was some teasing from the apparently callous, sharp-tongued, ambitious-to-a-fault boy standing before you. 

A boy who revealed the true depths of his compassion only to you. He let you thaw out his cold heart from its confines and declared it yours. 

“Something more to say, ace?” he asks.

“You first.”

“Are you kidding? Why don’t you play this game with your boyfriend?”

You share a lingering look, effectively answering his question. The unabashed shit-eating smile that breaks out on his face is enough to tell you just how he feels. 

“Don’t gloat,” you warn him, but he’s already pulled you flush against him with both arms. “I also need a new coach.”

“Mhmm,” he nods, not really in response to your statement. “Save that for later, ace. Please shut the hell up and kiss me.”

He can’t help but smile through kisses, his lips chasing yours when you make an effort to pull away and say something more. 

“Aemond, will you - ”

“Fuckin’ - ” a cuss slips from him when you manage to break apart, depriving him of your lips. He answers impatiently, “Yes of course, I’ll be your coach, ace. Of course. Happy? I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

Before he leans in once more, you say, “Don’t you dare fuck this up, Targaryen.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

You lean back in mild surprise.

He laughs, “I mean - ace - or my love. Either one applies, really.”

"I... I prefer ace," you say weakly.

"Now, now, my love. I thought we promised not to lie to each other?"

taglist (all who commented on this post - surprise double feature incoming!) : @odeioemail @sapphossongbird @toodlesxcuddles @sinistersnakey9419 @fan-goddess @jhroseok @diannnsss @dixie-elocin @tostadasdetinga @1-800shootmeplease @goldyfishsstuff @pineappleicelostmary @raging-panda

Should you wish to be added to the Aemond (or Daemon) taglist, please comment on this post!

[modernelites-if]

Modern Elites is a 18+ raunchy slice-of-life IF that follows you, a young royal, navigating the world of the obscenely rich and immensely famous while trying to keep your elite, royal family together in the midst of drama and tabloids.

Setting: modern times, fictional tiny country of Selusa, New York, Paris and more.

Genre: slice-of-life, drama, romance

Celebrity. Pop Culture Icon. Heir.

Royal.

As the heir to the Selusan throne, you're known by many names. Growing under the spotlight hasn't been easy, especially since it seems the vultures all want a piece of your elusive family. Country clubs, yachts, parties, private jets, elite schools, you've had it all.

But is there something missing?

Customize your heir from appearance to gender identity to personality. Dictate what kind of person they are: rebellious, dutiful. Do they care about the royal line or are parties more on their mind? Will you keep a squeaky clean rep or ruin the family name?

Customize Salusa and cater the country to your taste.

Dictate what kind of leader you want to be, and how others percieve you.

Experience the life of the hidden .01% and the drama of the ultra wealthy.

Engage in fiery, dramatic romances that could either uplift or ruin you and your family.

and more to come.

THE ADVISOR

Imogen/Ian Lancaster [f/m]- your family's advisor and publicist. I has cleaned up every mess, every leak, every scandal and at this point, there are no secrets between your family and them. Coming from a well-off family themselves, they know exactly how this world works...and they navigate it with a steel will and a cold, detached demeanor. I has you handled like an adult with a child, trying (and probably failing) to keep you in line. Anything you do will go through them, so it's better to think twice.

THE BETROTHED

Everett/Eva St. Clare [m/f] - the eldest of one of the most influential businessmen on your side of the world, black sheep, and a source of gossip in polite society, there have been talks of a betrothal between you two since the partnership started. Because of that, you two are forced into a fake romance for the cameras. E is an arrogant and brash casanova, sex-obsessed, and is proudly noncommital with string of rumors that follow them like their own entourage. Unfortunately for you, E's exploits can damage the carefully constructed facade you two have built. Of course, E doesn't give a damn.

THE REBEL

Vince/Vivian De Grasso [m/f] - (secretly) fresh out of jail and newly reformed (not) V's politician of a mother has asked in a favor from your family: to reform them and stifle their rebellious ways by adding them to your security detail. Your father having a soft spot for the kid, brings them in as one of your guards. Hopefully V keeps in line...or not.

THE COMMONER

Cordelia/Corden Bowen [f/m]- an employee at the country club you frequent, someone less polite would call them a 'nobody.' C has a bit of an attitude, but that's expected from someone who is used to getting berated by rich people all day. There's not much else to say about them...or maybe there is?

THE JOURNALIST

Romi Marshall [m/f]- a famed journalist with contempt for royalty and elitism. Their newsletters frequently slam you and your family's every move, and they don't like you one bit. You can confidently say they're your biggest hater.

THE ROYAL BEST FRIEND

Oliver/Olivia Ames-Astor [m/f]- a fellow prince/princess from another country and your best friend, who is still hung up on their ex. Forced to betroth someone else, O has so many problems you can hardly sort through them. Still, they're kind and as polite as you'd expect from a person who has had etiquette lessons drilled into them since childhood. They're also your best friend, so there's that.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics where the main pairing is versatile in bed and both top/bottom (or as we say in this fandom they kind of share that really) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🔄 And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint

(E, 158k, canon) Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

🔄 Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc

(E, 99k, Will & Kate au) Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

🔄 Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

🔄 Been Together Since Way Back When by @alivingfire

(E, 95k, established relationship) the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

🔄 taste on my tongue by bethaboo / @bethaboolou

(E, 77k, reality tv) Take Louis. Take Harry. Add in a heaping cup of sexual tension. Another cup of delicious (and not so delicious) food. A smidgen of competitive spirit. A dash of hopes and dreams. And you get Kitchen Wars, a TV show that promises to be the must-watch event of the fall.

🔄 Now you know me (for your eyes only) by nadinecestmoi

(E, 77k, famous/famous) harry clearly had someone in mind when he wrote the song so the last day of recording comes and louis’ like “thanks for having me on the song” and harry just shrugs and is like “well it just seemed fitting bc the song is about you”

🔄 After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 71k, historical) In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland. Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses.

🔄 Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, fwb) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

🔄 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Louis is bored, rich and lonely. He has no reason to expect that this summer in the Hamptons with his friends will be different from any other – until he meets Harry.

🔄 best kind of bad something by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, established relationship) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

🔄 Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) by @hellolovers13

(E, 20k, only one bed) Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad.But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

🔄 Can I just be the same? by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun *

(M, 17k, vampire) Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

🔄 I Still Find You Lovely by @angelichl

(M, 16k, one night stand) In which Harry goes to a bar in search of a bloke with an air-conditioned flat.

🔄 Salt and the Appetite by @sadaveniren

(E, 14k, bdsm) Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

🔄 getting yourself wet for me by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(E, 10k, secret relationship) frat boys take on watersports

🔄 Just For Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

(E, 9k, Posh/Becks au) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

🔄 Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright *

(E, 5k, pwp) Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him? Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

🔄 Switching the positions for you by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 4k, omega Louis) the omegaverse AU where they decide to try a completely new position in bed

🔄 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis *

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🔄 Eager To Please by @enchantedlandcoffee *

(E, 1k, pwp) "Ah, ah." Louis tsked disapprovingly, the younger boy's actions immediately halting. "You want to be a good boy for your Daddy, don't you?"

- Rare Pairs -

🔄 honey, we should run away by narryblossom

(M, 18k, Niall/Harry) It’s… kind of nice, actually. But being a nice house doesn’t take away the sting of what Harry’s done or what he’s asking Niall to give up by moving there.

[dysfunctionalmaki]

Say My Name

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter 05/?

Summary: You work all around at the local country club, to your advantage you flirted and used your beauty to get what you want, though with this certain woman your own way can't seem to work.

Warning: This work contains smut and foul language, minors DNI!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

You pace round and round the living room and Yelena couldn't help but get distracted as you walked past her for the nth time. “God! Can you sit your ass down?” your friend grumbled considering she couldn't enjoy her TV show when you'd be there covering the screen from time to time. “How can I sit my ass down exactly? I pissed off Diana!” you stopped exactly right at the center of the television and the blonde which made her groan out of frustration. “See? Play stupid games and win stupid prizes.” looking at her with your brows furrowed. “I didn't know Wanda was going to be there!” you say and Yelena was honestly enjoying your little meltdown.

“Okay, from what you've told me about Diana when you met her, she's nice, rich, and so pretty that you think she may be a goddess.” Yelena just decided to turn off the television knowing it's useless to even attempt to focus and watch her show. “And she works at Wayne Enterprises, knows our boss Tony Stark… and also knows Wanda and her husband since both companies somehow work together?” you say and she couldn't help but laugh softly. “So you're screwed?” she asked and you decided to pace around, taking a seat next to your friend on the couch. “Yes, I'm screwed. Like, when she saw me and Wanda talking at the party… she wrapped her arm around me and then pulled me close! Like she's mine type of close.” your friend tilted her head at what you're saying. “Okay, that's kind of a stretch.” Yelena says.

“No! It isn't… is it? Am I reading too much into it?” Now, you're doubting what you're trying to say, though you can't help but groan. Your stomach's doing cartwheels, you can't help but imagine that the next time you step foot outside the apartment you'll be shoved in a white van… well, you happened to fuck around with someone who's crazy rich and now you're worried, which is understandable and that's why you're also shitting bricks. “Do you want me to text your redhead girlfriend?” Yelena teased, you instantly looked at her and shook your head. “No! I'd look totally uncool if you did that.” you exclaimed and Belova widened her eyes at what you just said. “Y/N, no one thinks you're cool.” you place a hand on your chest taking offense to what she said. “The one you should be talking about this is Wanda, after all, you two were the ones who fooled around.”

“I’m sure she can do something about it and if you talk to her about it then voilà she helps you, I mean it's pretty obvious that you two aren't going to be a one-time thing.” Yelena added, which reminded you of another thing you can't help but stress about the whole situation. “Everything’s about Wanda, it's Wanda here and Wanda there.” you let out while your friend couldn't help but agree with what you're saying. “I think you like her.” The blonde commented and you let out a sigh. “Nope, no can do, nuh-uh.” you are quick to deny what your friend says and she chuckled as if you're acting like a child. “Nuh-uh? What are you, a five-year-old?” You roll your eyes at her comment once more. “I've slept with many people, Wanda isn't anything special.” you stated yet a hint of doubt went through your head.

“I've hung out with Wanda a couple of times before, she's easy-going, can be mean at times, but she's charming in her ways... easy on the eyes too.” Yelena went to list down some of the redhead's characteristics then she looked at you once more. “The downside is she's married, not just any man but a man who works close to Stark, who also happens to be our boss, Y/N." she reminded you then the queasy feeling came back to your guts once more. “Can you stop reminding me of that? I'm still worrying about what Diana may do and there's me messing around with Wanda.” The blonde reached for her phone and without your idea she just decided to message Maximoff, she's a good friend honestly but she'll burst her eardrums if she listens to you go on and on about your worries, and you can't blame her for that.

This time you're in your bedroom trying to sleep off the uneasiness you're feeling, your face buried against the soft pillow, you were a total mess and this wouldn't have happened if you had taken control of yourself and didn't have a whole make out session with the older woman back at the party. An hour went by and honestly, you were just staring at the ceiling as much as you attempted to stop thinking about a certain redhead, she wouldn't stop running in your mind. You've never been kissed the way she kissed you, how she easily found ways to get you weak in the knees and tremble before her, Wanda knew how to please you when she had you cornered at the sink that night.

You hear a knock on your door, doing your best to get your ass off the bed. You knew this was just Yelena probably needing something from you, fixing the shirt you were wearing, adjusting the volleyball shorts that you have had since high school. The moment you opened the door, and those green eyes instantly met with yours, you couldn't help but be surprised and looked behind the older woman then Yelena was there with a smug smile on her face, mouthing “You’re welcome” rolling your eyes at her then you went to look at the redhead in front of you. “Hi- What are you doing here?” You ask confusingly while the woman before you lets herself in your bedroom. “Yelena told me you're freaking out about Prince and she can't spend another second listening to that.” Wanda explained. “Well, are you really worrying about Prince?” she asked.

Taking a moment before answering, you crossed your arms over your chest and nodded. “She probably noticed at the party, I mean probably caught a glimpse of the mark you left and noticed how we were easily conversing.” At the mention of the hickey the older woman smiled and you looked at her. “I mean it, Wanda.” you muttered then she sat on your bed, biting her lower lip while her eyes somehow landed on your legs then looking into your orbs once again. “What do you want me to do about it?” you sighed at her question and you looked away from her enchanting eyes for a second. “Assure me that your husband and especially Mr. Stark won't find out about us.” you requested.

Wanda ran her fingers through her hair then she collected her thoughts trying to come up with words to tell you. “Alright, come here.” she said, you did hesitate for a moment but you can't help but do what she asked you to do. Her hands went to your waist, gently pulling you towards her, and eventually, you found yourself straddling her lap while you faced her. “You don't have to worry about Jarvis and as for Tony… he's not a problem, he's got far too many on his plate to think about this or us.” Her answer sounded too confident and you didn't like how that easily came from her. “Wanda, you told me before that your husband likes to cause a scene.” you reminded her and she tilted her head staying silent as she wanted to hear what you had to say.

“Sweetheart, Jarvis and I are basically separated at this point.” she scoffed. “I mean, we do live in the same house but it's been years since we've slept on the same bed.” she assured you and slowly, Wanda moved her hand from your waist and went to the small of your back. “What about Diana?” you ask her. “Well, from how I see things with you and Prince… I made her jealous.” she says with a proud smile. “She won't do anything to harm you, you're too precious for her to even lay a finger on.” The redhead noticed that you weren't 100% on board with her yet and she thought maybe you were really worried. “Y/N, I promise you, no one's going to harm you, I won't let them.” she whispered, this time you moved your arms around her shoulders and the both of you knew what you both wanted.

“This little affair will be our secret, alright? Yelena, Natasha, and Carol are the ones who know about it, and probably that bartender guy you're friends with.” The older woman assured you once again, though the moment she was about to lean in for a kiss you pulled back. “Why stay with Jarvis, though?” you asked all of a sudden and you got off her lap knowing how distracted she was with you, so you sat on the chair by your work desk so she could tell her story straight. “It’s a long story, malysh, I don't see it relevant on why he should be brought up.” she said and you can't help but raise a brow. “I think he's perfectly relevant, I mean am I your little experiment if you like girls, you need someone to play with to pass time, or he cheated and you're trying to get back at him.” you rambled through the different scenarios and Wanda shook her head. “None of those, and I guess we're really talking about it.” Wanda says with a sigh.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ᗢ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The redhead got comfortable on your bed while you went on to get some snacks and drinks for the both of you in the kitchen, after all, she did say it's going to be a long story. “I met Jarvis when we were in college, we shared this class and he was good when we met, he's a level-headed guy, he was kind of a nerd and I thought he's kind of charming for that.” She went on to tell details of how much she thought that her husband was such a good man and while she did you were pouring some red wine in your glasses since that's the only drink you currently have at home. “Then, we went on a couple of dates, and did the deed a couple of times until I got knocked up.” Wanda casually says then you widen your eyes not expecting that at all, then you take a sip from your glass just as you listen to her talk.

You loved how her accent would slip now and then, how she fiddled with her finger while she went to tell you the story of her and Jarvis. “Oh and even way before I met him, he has been under Stark's wing… Where was I?” “You got knocked up.” you answered her. “Right, I got knocked up and of course, he told Stark about it and he's told that he should take full responsibility, eventually we got married during my pregnancy.” Wanda took a moment then she went to take a sip from her wine then biting her lower lip. “Unfortunately, he started acting so differently, he has become hot-headed, he has been going out to more parties and all that, not to mention he's a drunk, add to the fact that we're graduating so pressure's through the roof.” she added. “I had a miscarriage with all the stress and… when he found out about it, he didn't care about the unborn child, all he cared about was that he got the hot girl.” the news sure did shock you, which made you finish the glass and you went to fill up your drink once again.

“I’m so sorry for what happened.” You softly spoke and this time you sat next to her on your bed, then she smiled sweetly at you. “It's been years since that happened, I've moved on and eventually, I've also moved from Jarvis.” she said. “Why are you guys still together though?” Your question caught Wanda off-guard, well, she did think that all questions about her husband’s over but it seems like she’s mighty wrong. “You really are going to push this as far as you can go, don’t you?” Wanda chuckled, then she lifted her glass of wine to her lips, looking at you for a second before deciding to take a small sip. “I’m only staying so he could keep his image squeaky clean.” it was a short answer and you knew better than to push the topic even further.

“Is the interrogating done, sweetheart?” The redhead asked as she finished her drink, asking for a fill when she handed her glass towards you. “Yeah- I was just expecting the whole cheating husband schtick and not even an ounce of what you said.” you honestly spoke as you poured her another glass of wine. “Is that all that you need from me though?” she questioned you once more, only moving her hand when you handed her back her drink. “Well, it’s just that I’ve never had someone catch me fooling around and didn’t know that it’d feel something like that–” “Something like what, malysh?” Wanda moved herself closer to you, faces only an inch apart from one another, your eyes were looking at her alluring ones. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so thrilling yet nerve-wracking.” you say as if you’re under her spell once again.

“I think you and I know that this isn’t going to be something that’ll only happen once.” Wanda whispered. “I think I’d have to agree with you.” you replied, finally, the older woman took your drink and placed it on your side table next to hers. You feel her soft hand palming your cheek, the redhead admiring you and looking at you as something… better yet someone she could treasure. The redhead caressed your skin for a moment with her thumb, it is something so simple and so innocent, you didn’t know whether it’s the wine acting up or it’s just Wanda who’s making you feel hotter, you scooted closer towards her and as you flutter your eyes close you caught a glimpse of her smiling when leaned into her. Wanda made the first move… She gently pressed her lips against yours, this time it’s much more gentle compared to how the both of you were the last time, you took your time matching her rhythm, taking a moment to get a good feel of her soft pair on yours. The two of you were picking up the pace steadily, she wasn’t rushing and honestly, you liked that she lingered at this pace.

“Wanda…” you whispered, yet you only received a soft “Hmm?” from the latter and after that it was just more kissing “The walls are thin here.” you purred against her lips. “Then I think we should be quiet, sweetheart.” the redhead cooed, with that being said the both of you went back to your makeout session. You were so used to taking the lead and now that someone’s taking that responsibility for you… you can’t help but fall right into her hands, allow yourself to be taken care of. Wanda shifted her hand from your cheek and located it back to your waist once again, her free hand moving towards the side of your thigh, grasping on it so she could usher you to move your legs and lay on your bed. Doing what she wishes for you to do, the redhead took off her office blazer, revealing the spaghetti strapped tank top before you, god, she was such a sight to look at. “You know I’m assuming that you like what you see.” Wanda chuckled softly and you can’t help but grow a smile due to what she said. “I do actually… I like what I see.” you replied.

She placed a finger below your chin making you look up to her, somehow a move this simple was enough for you to pool your underwear, as you gaze upon her emerald orbs you can’t help but see it so darkened with lust. Wanda went ahead to move her hands at the hem of your shirt, she did want you to see her taking your clothes off, so that it’ll be only her stuck in your mind, making sure that it’s her and her alone. You assisted her in taking your top off as you sat up and did the same for her, you easily discarded her tank top and you proceeded to put your hand on her back so you could take her bra off. Watching the strap fall over her shoulder, biting your lower lip as you admired her naked top right before you, the older woman knew that you liked this view even more, she took both your hands and guided them to her bare breasts, allowing you to massage them so gently, the way you held and fondled her was enough to make her grow sensitive to your touch.

While you're occupied with her breasts, she took the moment to take off your as well, her lips were instantly painted with a smirk when she saw that the mark she left was still there. “I see that you've kept it.” she teased, though the moment you felt both her hands on your tits, you knew it's her turn and she'll take such good care of you, letting go of her breasts the older woman gently pushed you to lay back on your bed once more. You know how to please women and that you're confident with, you've had dozens of one night stands hitting you up so you'd do them for a second time and that's how good you are, somehow when it comes to this woman on top you… you're the one who's craving, wanting for a second night, desperate for her touch.

Wanda knew her way around you, maybe it's just the fact that you're easily pleased when she's the one doing you, as you lay underneath her you can't help but place a hand over your lips, letting out muffled groans as the redhead wrapped her mouth on your sensitive nipples, her tongue swirling against your nub and you can't help but feel your own wetness soaking your panties. The older woman made sure both your breasts got the equal attention from her mouth, she'd suck on them to her own contentment and she loved the fact how you couldn't keep your eyes on her, more so that your eyes kept on fluttering close all because of the pleasure she's giving you.

Eventually, her lips moved downwards leaving a trail of her kisses from your breasts and heading to your stomach, her hands found its way on the waistband of your shorts. “Do you want me to continue, Y/N?” the way your name slip from her lips sounded way too good, this woman is heaven sent. “Yes, please– please do continue.” you whimpered when she'd tease you with kisses on your lower abdomen. Wanda took your shorts off along with your underwear, she finally saw how much of a wet mess you are underneath your clothing. You somehow got shy with the fact that you're so desperate for her and Wanda got a feel that you did feel embarrassed about it, she smiled at you. “Oh, malyshka, this really is long due isn't it? I probably made you wait too long.” she purred when she moved herself so she'd face you once again.

“I’ll make sure to give you such a good time that none of your women could ever match with.” Wanda whispered, her lips lightly brushing against yours as she spoke. You felt the tip of her fingers feeling your skin, she gently ran her fingertips from your lower abdomen, heading down to your thighs, and her hand rested on your inner thigh. The redhead kissed you once again, her tongue swiped against your lower lip and you slightly moved your lips so she could gain more access. You could feel her hand against your private and it's more than enough to send shivers through your body, the older woman went on to move her tongue along with yours though just as she took over, you felt her finger slide in between your folds.

You softly moaned against her mouth, her finger moved painfully slow against your clit, knowing to herself that she's teasing you, she can't help but smirk seeing how frustrated you were getting that you were moving your hips just so you'd be able to feel more of her touch. “Wanda, please… just fuck me.” your words were honest considering the fact that it really is what you want. “Hmm, I need to hear it one more time and I think I want you to nicely ask for it.” her finger kept still considering you were shifting your hips against her digit, you weren't one to beg but with how desperate you're getting you didn't want to protest against hers anymore. “Wanda, can you please fuck me?” never in your life you thought once that you're the one asking to be fucked but here you are.

“Your wish is my command, malyshka.” her thick accent came on once again, Wanda took her finger off from your pussy for a moment and placed it against your lips. “Lick and suck it good, sweetheart.” she tells you, making sure that you obey her, you kept your eyes on her as you licked the base of her finger, your tongue moves to the very top of it. The older woman felt herself get soaked as she watched you move your wet muscle against her digit, before you'd take her finger into your mouth she added her ring finger along with her middle.

Wanda watched how obedient you are as you took both her fingers in your mouth, she felt how you're sucking on them and just as she knew that they were lubricated enough with your saliva, she gently took them off your mouth. The older woman rubbed her fingers on your clit in a circular motion, just the right pace to keep it stimulated but not enough to get you close to your orgasm. The moment she moved her finger at your entrance, you bit your lower lip trying to muffle whatever sound that may come out of you the moment she pushed her fingers into you. You gasp at the feeling and the redhead pressed a kiss on top of your head, she can't help but groan softly when she feels how wet and warm you are inside.

The redhead started to pump her fingers in and out of your pussy, you couldn't get a single word out of your mouth other than the sinful moans that you were holding back considering you didn't really want to traumatize your best friend next door. Wanda was thrusting her digits knuckle deep into your hole, you loved how you're a wet mess for this woman before you, she was taking such good care of you and took mental notes of where you are most sensitive, used it to you advantage so she could take you closer to your orgasm. “You’re taking me in so good, malyshka.” she purred and as much as you wanted to respond to her, she only got your moan as her feedback and it was more than enough for her.

Picking up her pace, Wanda went to thrust her fingers into you much faster and rougher than it is earlier, this time your legs were involuntarily shaking with pleasure, your toes curled up with how much she's making you feel good. Your mind was clouded with lustful thoughts and all of it contained Wanda, you thought about more ways she can fuck you, your mind went over to different ways she can do you and you wouldn't even mind being her own bitch. “Fuck, just do me like that please…” you begged Wanda when she finally got you where you're most sensitive. “Say my name, I want you to moan my name, malyshka.” she growled. “Please, Wanda, I'm so close… please fuck.” you cried out at this point, string of curses left your lips along with the older woman's name being moaned at as well.

The moment Wanda felt how you tightened around her finger, she knew you're about to hit your orgasm, the redhead pressed a kiss on your lips so she could at least help you muffle your moans during your orgasm. The redhead had let you take your time to ride off your high, just as your lips parted with hers you took a moment to catch your breath and the latter moved beside you, moving her arm under your head so you'd rest it there instead of the pillow, when your eyes met with hers, she looked at you with her kind smile once again. “And you're not even out of all your clothes.” You say when it sunk in to you that she still has her pants on. “What can I do? I've got a girl who needs to be taken care of.” she teased you before leaning in to peck on your lips. “Why don't I take it off for you?” You offered and the redhead nodded her head, after all… she knew how much you craved for her.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ᗢ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

You lay on your bed naked and beside you was Wanda who's currently in a phone call, it did sound important though you're wishing that she'd stay a little longer on this bed with you. You two had multiple amazing rounds of sex and it did tire you both, and not because you have favoritism or something but this could be the best sex you've ever had. The redhead had set her phone down and had looked at you as well when she noticed that you were staring. “You've got to go, don't you?” you ask her, the latter nodded her head and you can't help but let out a sigh. “You know that there will be a next time, Y/N.” Wanda softly spoke as she sat up.

She got up to use your bathroom and you decided to get up and tidy up the room once again, picking up the clothes on the floor and you went on to neatly fold her clothes at the bed, you put on your shirt once again and it's enough to cover your privates. A couple of moments later, Wanda went back in the room, probably took a quick shower and she went to press a kiss on your cheek when she noticed that you arranged her clothes. “Maybe you'll see me again tomorrow, Carol’s been asking us to play golf with her for the past couple of days and we happen to have a clear schedule.” she said. “By seeing you, you mean me being your waitress.” you replied and while she puts on her clothes, she tilted her head at your answer.

“Let me know when is your next off, maybe I can match my schedule with yours, let me at least take you out.” She offered and you bite your lower lip. “Sure, just friends though?” you ask and she can't help but chuckle softly. “Friends? Is that what we are?” she purred. “Mhmm, of course that's what we are, friends who happen to have such hot sex.” she teasingly says and you softly laugh. “I make sure not to disappoint.” While you two went on to chat while Wanda’s getting ready, you went ahead to wear your shorts and it didn't take long for the redhead to finish.

“We both know that if we want something serious it's not going to start now, sweetheart. Plus, as I said before I want you all for myself.” she honestly spoke. “And as for you, I know well that you wouldn't want to share me with anybody.” she confidently said and she pressed a quick kiss on your lips once more. “It’s like you read my mind.” you say and she winks at you. “I’ve got to go, okay? I'll see you around.” she says and you went to walk her towards the driveway outside the apartment, the two of you didn't see Yelena so you figured she must've went for a walk with Fanny. Wanda bids her goodbye and you can't help but instantly think about your next time with her, until it hits you.

Maybe you really are now hoping for something serious with that woman.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @reginassweetheart @lvinhs @alexawynters @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @sokovianbaby @scarlettbitchx @nickelyy @lovejaylux

[itsbeeble]

Gorgeous

SUMMARY: Minghao was the black sheep, though you'd never understood why. Maybe it's time you figure it out.

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst (MAJOR ANGST)

PAIRING: Xu Minghao x afab!reader

WC: 5.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

SERIES TAGLIST: @captain-brie @nobraincellmode

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: this is actually really dark, infidelity, rich people core, p in v sex, exhibitionism (yn gets fingered in the back of her car while on the phone), minghao is possessive, stalker themes, criminal, mentions of blood, reader gets injured, a lot goes on actually i've never written something like this el oh el

A/N: this was NOT supposed to end up like it did, but I decided on a whim to do this. Thank you to @sungbeam and @mosviqu for beta reading this (even if some of it was very last minute). I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did teehee

“Who is that?” You tilt your head, eyes trained in the direction of someone you’d never seen before at these functions. Your friend, Jang Gyuri, follows your eyes and kisses her teeth. 

“Xu Minghao,” she brings her lips close to your ear so only you can hear her. No need for prying eyes and ears to hear what she has to say and spread unwanted rumors. “I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

“Why?” 

Many people would have described you as innocent. You came from “new money” as they would call it. Your father practically struck gold when he decided in his early thirties to start a business. The company grew quickly, the products being released becoming popular all over South Korea and, eventually, internationally. You knew that you should pay more attention to his work, as you’d likely inherit it one day, but you can’t find it in you to care. With this recent rise to power, you’d been taking advantage of your seemingly neverending access to parties of all kinds. Galas, clubs, birthday parties for the spoiled brats that had been born into this life. You were a free spirit, never one to avoid cameras, and that made you dangerous in the eyes of many in this country. Gyuri told you that, though old money was never afraid of new money, new money had the power of intimidation.

She’d told you many names as examples: Wen Junhui, Choi Yeonjun, Lee Chan, Han Jisung, Bae Joohyun, Kang Seulgi, Chwe Hansol. Though their families weren’t necessarily liked, they held status among the wealthy children for varying reasons— proving their worth being the main reason, intimidation being another. 

Xu Minghao, however, was never a name you had heard in these recent months. Maybe there was a reason for that, you note when your eyes meet his lidded ones and he flashes you a lazy smirk. Your cheeks heat up, and you turn your gaze back to Gyuri. She’s giving you a dirty look, her painted red lips pursed and her eyebrows knit together. 

“He’s bad news, Y/N,” she warns. “Seungcheol will tell you about it, and he’d want you to be careful around him.”

“Seungcheol,” your voice is laced with venom, “is in the bathroom with Seo Yookyung. I don’t think he cares what I do, so long as I don’t ruin his reputation.”

“That’s not exactly what I would call a healthy relationship.” 

Both you and Gyuri flinch, startled by the interruption, and turn to scold whoever jumped into a private conversation. 

You fall short, however, your mouth partially hanging open with shock and, honestly, awe. 

From afar, you could tell that he was attractive but now that he’s up close? You feel like you could sink and drown in him. Long dark hair, thin and pointed face, scrutinizing eyes. He was intimidating to most, this you could tell. But to you?

He was the most gorgeous person you had ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. 

“Xu Minghao,” Gyuri’s tone is cold and she shuffles to stand just slightly in front of you, something both you and Minghao notice. 

“Jang Gyuri,” Minghao mocks, sticking one of his hands into a pocket in his slacks.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know by now that you aren’t welcome?” Her words are sharp, and it almost scares you. Gyuri, despite her reputation for being cruel, had always been kind to you. She’d been a sort of mentor to you, teaching you the rights and wrongs in terms of “rich behavior”. She taught you the right people to associate with, and the wrong people to associate with. However, she had never once raised her voice or made you feel unwelcome. Quite unlike how she talks to Minghao. 

“I go wherever I please, Jang Gyuri.” Minghao sighs, a puff of air that makes a few loose strands of hair flutter out of his face. Then his eyes return to you, scanning your body but not in a seductive manner. No, he’s curious. You can see it in his eyes, behind the cold front he puts up. “And…who might you be?” 

“None of your business—”

“L/N Y/N—”

You and Gyuri speak at the same time, and you shut your mouth quickly when she shoots you another nasty look. Minghao, however, is amused. One side of his mouth quirks up in a mild show of this, the corners of his lips picking up. 

“So, which is it?” He inquires. “None of your business or Y/N L/N? I’m not a betting man, but I’d wager that it’s the latter.” 

You poorly stifle a laugh, covering it with a cough. 

“What do you want?” Gyuri hisses out, tapping a heel on the marble floor impatiently. Minghao presses his lips together, loosely shrugging his shoulders. 

“Just wanted to see if I could buy your lovely friend here a drink.”

“She’s taken.”

“She,” you finally interrupt Gyuri and place a hand on her collarbone to gently push her back. “Can speak for herself. And she will need a few more drinks to make it through the night.”

Gyuri sputters out an argument, trying to get you to stop, but Minghao grins down at you and offers his arm. You gladly take it, giving Gyuri one more warning look before you’re tugged away through the crowd. 

“You’re new money.” Minghao leans against the counter next to you while you sit on one of the few open stools left. There’s a martini in front of you, one that’s barely been touched since you received it a few minutes ago. 

“Is it that obvious?” You tilt your head and Minghao smiles, his head dipping down a bit. 

“Not entirely,” he looks back up and shifts his weight. “Only if you know what to look for.” 

“And what, exactly,” you lean toward him, resting your chin on the back of your hand, “are you looking for?”

His tongue runs over his lip, eyebrows furrowing in thought. 

“You’re interesting, Y/N L/N.” Evading the question. 

“Oh?” You finally bring your martini glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the alcoholic beverage. “Why is that, Xu Minghao?” 

“You don’t…you don’t know who I am, do you?” Your lips quirk into a small smile.

“No, I don’t. Is it something important?” 

For the first time since you’d begun talking to him, he falls quiet in a way that shows discomfort. Your smile drops, and you lean back on your stool. 

“Minghao,” you start. “Is there something I should know?” 

You see a muscle in his jaw feather, see his eyes dance around you to see who was around. One of your hands falls to your lap, playing with the expensive fabric of your dress. Now he’s avoiding your questions. 

“I’m…” he huffs out a breath, tilting his head back and scoffing out a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to someone I just met, but…there’s something about you that I just can’t place.”

“I’ve been told that by many people.” Minghao shifts closer to you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. 

“What else have they told you?”

“That I can be a bit…straightforward.” His other hand is on the counter, and your fingers dance just a bit closer to his, the tips brushing together slightly. “That when I get nervous, I either talk too much or not at all.”

“And…?” He leans his head down a bit. 

“That you’re bad,” your voice lowers, your lips curling into a smirk. “That I should stay away from you.”

“And I take it you don’t listen to these people, do you?” Minghao asks, his voice dropping an octave. There’s tension around you, something so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Not at all.”

“What would they do if I asked you to leave with me?” His fingers finally lace with yours and you hum, pretending to think.

“Seungcheol might not like that very much.”

Minghao scoffs. “You know damn well that he left a long time ago.” 

“But still…” you sigh and shake your head. “Someone has to be loyal.” 

A nod from the man in front of you, and a sly smile. 

“I understand, and I won’t make you do anything.” He squeezes your hand once, and you feel him slide a piece of paper into your palm. He waits for your fingers to close around the paper before he pulls his hand away. “You’ll know where to find me when you change your mind and drop him. And, when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

When he leaves the building, you feel like you can finally breathe. Your shoulders relax, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You’re in the middle of trying to get your body under control when Gyuri stomps back over to you. 

“What the hell were you thinking, talking to a man like him?” Her nails dig into your upper arm, scraping into your skin and causing you to suck in a sharp breath. “Are you stupid?”

“I don’t see what your problem is,” you sigh and finish off your martini before sliding off your barstool. Your feet are aching at this point, and you’re just itching to get out of this dress. “He isn’t as bad as you think he is.”

“Xu Minghao isn’t the man he’s seemed to convince you he is.” Gyuri warns you. “He’s a liar, just like his father is. He’ll hurt you, Y/N, and don’t come crying to me when he does. I’ll just tell you that I warned you and tried to stop you. I won’t help you if you get yourself tangled up with him.”

“It’s a good thing I won’t need your help then, isn’t it?” You retort, tearing your arm out of her grip and straightening your posture. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Gyuri, and I won’t let you or Seungcheol stop me anymore.”

“Gyuri tells me you’ve been talking to Xu Minghao.” Seungcheol looks at you in the mirror as he tightens the tie around his throat. You’re in the middle of sliding on another pair of uncomfortable shoes that will have your toes bleeding by the end of the night, and raise your gaze to look at him.

“I have. Only once, though.” Your eyes return to the ground to grab the second heel. For two weeks you had been talking to this…mystery man. You’d learned more about him every day, of his father’s scandals that would have left his family bankrupt had Minghao not come out and saved the company. You found it admirable but most chose to despise him, refusing partnerships and refusing to admit the good he’s done for his company and family as someone so young. 

And, of course, you had only done this with a little bit of research and a quick phone call to the number he slipped into your hand. You’re sure Seungcheol knows this, knows that you’re too curious for your own good. This is something the two of you had argued about far too many times to count, and he’s since given up on trying to stop you.

“I’m sure that you’re aware of everything, then?”

“Aware of Minghao’s father or of your infidelity?” You rise to your feet, and Seungcheol freezes for just a moment before carrying on.

“Ah.”

“If you’re going to whore yourself out,” Your hand brushes against your boyfriend’s shoulder and you spin him around so you can tie the fabric around his neck. “At least do it where no one will see you.” Your lips are drawn into a tight smile and you rest your hand on his chest. “At least do it where no one will see you, my love.”

“I take it…” Seungcheol watches you walk away and listens to the clicking of your heels on the ground. “...that the engagement is off, then?”

“Correct.” 

“What will you do?” You turn to look at the man you once tolerated, now finding him disgusting. 

“I think that I’ll be just fine. I have an apartment, I have a family that loves me, and a thriving company that I need to learn to lead. You, however, should worry about your status once news of your actions hits the papers come Monday.” 

Seungcheol nods slowly, his tongue digging into his cheek. 

“I have a ride to the gala,” you make your way for the bedroom door, lips drawn into a thin line. “I will have someone collect my things tomorrow morning, so make sure everything is exactly as it is now because they will have a list and I will come for everything you have if your toy for the night has the gall to take my belongings again.”

Seungcheol looks at you for a long moment, watching you leave the room before choosing to follow you. 

“And what of the deal your father made with my company?”

“Find someone else,” you shrug. “My father just wanted to make connections and you happened to give him the perfect opportunity to benefit both companies.”

“I could tell people, you know.” Seungcheol places his hand on the front door, stopping you from leaving. You turn to face him, your eyes narrowed. He doesn’t appear angry, yet he isn’t looking too pleased either. “That you had an affair. They would believe me. They would never believe someone like you.”

An easy smile passes over your lips, and you place a hand on his chest. “I don’t need them to believe me. Gyuri, on the other hand…” you kiss your teeth. “She can be quite the devil, no?”

“Gyuri trusts him?” Seungcheol asks and you can practically taste the disbelief. 

“No, she doesn’t,” your lips draw into a thin line. “She does, however, trust me.”

A silent type of anger radiates off Seungcheol as you turn away from him again. This time, when the door shuts, he doesn’t follow you. You’re glad he doesn’t. It makes it much easier to steady your breathing and the shaking in your hands.

You arrive at the party alone this time. There is no Gyuri and no Seungcheol to protect you from the cameras, from the invasive questions, and the microphones shoved into your face. It startles you and before you can get one foot out of the door, your body freezes up. One of the guards your father hired yells something, and then there’s someone sliding into your car and pushing you back. 

“Take a breath,” a soft, silky voice pushes through the yells outside the car. A hand cradles the back of your head, tangling in your long strands of hair, pulling you closer and tucking you into the crook of his neck. “Just breathe, love.” 

Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it’s the freedom you now know you have, but suddenly you’re laughing and pulling away from Minghao. He looks just as stunning as the last time you saw him. Dark hair, narrowed eyes, lips drawn into a thin line. He’s wearing a suit similar to last time— all black, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone. 

“Are you alright?” His hand comes to your cheek, letting you nestle into his gentle hold. “Talk to me, love. Are you alright?” 

But you just keep laughing, and then you’re clutching at his collar and yanking him toward you for a furious kiss. He freezes against you, one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist. It takes him a moment to reciprocate, to get over the initial shock and sink into you. His lips move softly against yours, forcing you to calm down and actually breathe like he’d requested. 

After a few moments, you pull away and lean your forehead against his. 

“So that’s what this is about?” Minghao murmurs. “You just wanted my attention, is that it?” 

“Not necessarily,” you pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you go very far. His hand is just around the curve of your waist, holding you near to him. “I have other reasons.”

“And what would they be?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach like a teenager in love.

“I like you, Xu Minghao.” God, you sound like one as well. “Very much.”

“I like you too, Y/N L/N.” Another kiss, this time tilting your head to reach the corner of your jaw. The car starts moving again, and Minghao calls out an address. His address, you assume. 

“You’re gorgeous, Minghao,” He laughs against your skin, trailing his lips down your neck slowly. “It makes it hard, you know.”

“Makes what hard, my flower.” 

“To focus. To talk to you. You make me so nervous, it’s infuriating.” Your breath hitches as he sucks gently at the skin above a vein. Your hand curls around his neck, tangling in his long strands of hair. 

Minghao doesn’t respond, but you don’t mind. Not when he drags you into his lap, the fabric around your body now splayed across the backseat of your car. You can hear your phone ringing, but you ignore it until the sound disappears. You focus on Minghao, focus on the feel of his lips on your skin and his hands all over your body. You focus on swiping your tongue over his lip, on pressing forward until his back is digging into the door, the armrest uncomfortable against his spine but neither of you cares.

Your phone rings again and, this time, Minghao pulls away from you, tilting your chin up and handing you the slim device. 

“It’s your father, I think.” His lips press against your jaw, and you exhale shakily. “Shouldn’t worry him too much.”

“Minghao—”

“Answer him.” His hand replaces his lips, giving your jaw a slight squeeze. “Or I will.”

The third ring comes, and you swallow hard. Minghao smiles, his lips curling up as he takes the phone from your hand and swipes on the green button.

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice is steady, and you can hear the exasperation. “What is this I’m hearing from Choi Seungcheol that the engagement is off?” 

Minghao’s lips touch your neck again, his fingers sliding under the fabric of your gown to trace up your thigh. It takes all the power in your body to not gasp into the microphone, your eyes fluttering as he touches you.

“He— what did he say?” You briefly stumble over your words, trying desperately to keep a firm grip on your phone and nearly failing when Minghao’s hand dips past your lacy underwear. Two fingers prod at your core and your breath hitches. Your free hand drops down and grips Minghao’s wrist tightly. He shoots you a playful smirk, lips puffy from kissing you and from sucking at your neck. You let him go.

“That you’ve left him. That you had an affair with…” you hear shuffling on the other end of the line, and then a loud sigh. “Xu Minghao?”

“That would be a lie, father.” You inform the older man, and Minghao’s fingers sink deep into you. It’s a wonder you haven’t moaned into your phone yet but with the way his skillful hand pumps in and out of you, soon you very well might. His thumb pushes at your clit, and you let your head drop into his neck, begging silently for him to have mercy on your poor mind and body. 

“Is that so?”

“Seungcheol had an affair. Well, several affairs. Minghao simply helped me realize that I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks as a little whimper almost makes its way out of your mouth. Minghao leans his head against yours and you can feel his cheeks stretching into a smile as he continues to drag his fingers in and out of your sopping-wet walls. He scissors them a bit, and then you feel a third sink into you. Your legs begin to shake and try to close, and with his free hand Minghao grabs onto one of your thighs to hold them open. “—wouldn’t be happy if I stayed with him.”

You hope that the shaking in your voice can pass as upset tears.

“I don’t— It doesn’t matter if you end up happy. I want what’s best for you and the business. Marrying Seungcheol would have balanced this.”

“Marrying Seungcheol would lead to a miserable life and the downfall of two companies.” You snap back, and you hear Minghao beginning to whisper praises into your ear. With red cheeks and a swelling heart, your hips begin to roll down on his fingers. “Minghao, at least, will keep me happy and will benefit both companies in many ways.”

Silence on your father’s end, and a knot begins to form in your stomach. 

“Don’t cum yet, flower.” Minghao murmurs, licking at the skin under your ear. “Wait until he hangs up.”

I can’t. You want to scream. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his thumb against your clit. It’s all becoming too much for you. It’s incredible you’re able to keep yourself together while on the phone.

“Is this what you really want?” Your father asks, and your whole body shudders against Minghao. 

“It— it is.” You gasp. Another pregnant pause. Fuck, it’s like your father wants you to suffer.

“Have him come by my office tomorrow for lunch. We’ll all talk then.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before he’s hanging up the phone and the car is rolling to a stop. Minghao rips his fingers out of you, effectively ruining the high you’d been approaching. 

“You’re— you’re horrible.” You whine, watching as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

“You love it, though.” He grins and slides you off his lap so he can get the door. Your body feels like jelly, your mind in a haze. You hardly notice Minghao tugging you by the hand, guiding you out of the car and to the front door of a beautiful house— so beautiful that it nearly takes your breath away.

Minghao’s arm is placed delicately on the small of your back, and you let him guide you into the house and up a grand marble staircase. You can’t begin to express the awe you feel. You can’t help the giddy feeling in your bones when you reach the top of the staircase and Minghao takes your hand. It appears, however, that he is feeling just about the same as you when he smiles so wide that you fear his lips would become stuck like that, and he drags you quickly toward a bedroom.

You let him press you down on the bed and let him kiss his way from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, and begin to peel the straps of your gown down your body so he can expose more and more skin. You feel like you’re burning up, feel like your body is being set ablaze wherever he touches your body. The zipper along the side of the dress is tugged town, and you raise your hips so Minghao can peel it down the rest of the way and throw the fabric somewhere across the room.

“I should be mad at you for that,” you say to him, although you relish in the feeling of his lips trailing down the valley of your breasts. “That dress was a very expensive gift.”

“Oh?” Minghao’s voice is muffled, and he tugs your panties down your legs as he speaks. “From who?” 

You watch as he begins to rid himself of his clothing, watch as he reveals every gorgeous inch of his skin to you. 

“Seungcheol.” His gaze hardens when he sees you smirk. 

“Then I should burn it, I think. Replace it with something newer, prettier, pricier.” He hovers his body over yours, lacing the fingers of one hand through your own and using his free hand to align himself with you. A pleased sigh is emitted from your lips as he sinks in, back arching as he begins to stretch you out.

“Is that so?” You breathe out. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face closer until you can kiss him. 

“Mmm.” Minghao hums against you, beginning to roll his hips slowly into yours. “I should burn everything that he has ever given you, I think.” 

You can barely respond, your voice seemingly broken and replaced by gasps for air as he begins to thrust into you harder and faster and you can’t seem to get control of your body. He doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t care that you can only roll your hips into his, can only bite into his skin, and leave dark marks that he won’t be able to hide (not that he would want to). Knowing that you’re enjoying this, fucked too dumb to speak even though he’d only been inside of you for barely a few minutes, it’s all enough for him. It’s more than enough. 

“What would he say if he saw us like this?” Minghao continues, his hands sliding down your legs and gently pushing them farther apart. “Hm? Would he stop me? Would he try to fight for you?”

You try to tell him he wouldn’t, but all that comes out of you is helpless babbles. 

“I would,” he hisses, and the knot in your stomach returns. It builds and builds, growing tighter and tighter with each passing moment. “He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve to touch you, to feel you.” 

“And—” you finally manage to choke out a few words. “And what— what m-makes you—oh god, Minghao please— think that— that you do?” 

“You already know why, my flower.” Minghao’s hips are slapping against yours at a pace— at a furosity— that you can’t keep up with, “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” 

The knot in your stomach snaps, your walls fluttering around him but he’s relentless. He pounds into you as your body convulses underneath him, your pathetic whines and moans turning into desperate wails. 

“I’m better than him in every way,” Minghao grits out, desperately fighting off his own orgasm. “Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you? How long I’ve wanted to take you from him? You have no idea how hard it was to not take you into the bathroom that night and fuck you the way you deserved. I wanted so badly for you to be mine.”

Overstimulation begins to wash over you, becoming a pleasurable sting that you don’t want to go away. His cock twitches inside of you and his breathing becomes heavier. You can see him trying to say something more, but all that comes out of him is a heavy groan, and then his hips are stuttering against yours. Warm cum spills into you, mixing with your own, and spilling out onto the sheets beneath you. Your legs thrash in Minghao’s grip, but he pins you down as his hips slow. His hair is messy, his forehead tinged with sweat. You can see his mouth hanging open a bit, heavy breaths rolling out of him. 

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

The sentence replays over and over in your mind amidst the scattered post-sex thoughts. 

How long I’ve wanted to take you from him?

Minghao rolls to the side, laying beside you on his large bed. 

He didn’t say anything to you, and you didn’t say anything to him. 

It was pure silence. A silence that allowed for clear thoughts. 

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

The drive to your father’s company the next day is…quiet to say the least. There’s an air of discomfort around the two of you and you’re unsure of whether it’s due to him having to meet your father or the conversation that will follow. Minghao, much like the night the two of you met and you’d asked about why everyone seemed to disapprove of him, was tense. His hands were set on his knees, squeezing tightly to the point of his knuckles turning white. His head is turned away from you, keeping his gaze on the city as you drive. It makes you nervous. Had you done something wrong? Was he regretting everything? 

You swallow hard, mimicking his position and turning to look out the window. 

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

There had been something so off about the way he said that. You still couldn’t quite figure out what it was, and it had your stomach churning uncomfortably. 

The feeling only worsens when you pull up in front of your father’s building and Gyuri is standing with Seungcheol. Both look upset, standing straight with their arms folded behind their backs. 

“What is this?” Minghao murmurs, thanking the driver quietly when his door opens. You slide out behind him, taking his hand in your own as he helps you stand. 

“I’m…I’m not sure what this is.” You admit, your eyebrows knitting together as Gyuri approaches you. “Gyuri, what’s happening?”

“You need to come with me,” she tugs at your arm, attempting to pull you away from your new lover. 

“What?” Your hand tightens in Minghao’s, your feet gluing into place. “What— what are you talking about? Gyuri, what’s going on? What is Seungcheol doing here?” 

“Y/N,” Seungcheol steps toward you, but Minghao is faster and pushes you behind him. Your hand dislodges from his, and you yelp as Gyuri practically rips you away from him. Your knees hit the ground, skin scraping against pavement. The door of the company building practically flies open, a few police officers filing out with your father taking up the rear. 

“Father?” Your throat is closing up, too many emotions pulsing through your body. 

“What is this?” Minghao is yelling. People are stopping on the streets to stare. Gyuri and Seungcheol pull you to your fight, and you don’t think you have the strength to stop them. “Y/N, WHAT IS THIS?”

For a moment, you’re afraid. He lunges for you, and two officers grab at him. He looks rabid, his eyes crazed and teeth bared like some animal as he yells and screams and kicks against the people holding him. Your father approaches you, relief replacing the typical stone-cold gaze he gives you.

“What’s happening?” You’re sobbing now, blood washing down your legs. Gyuri is crying with you, and Seungcheol’s hands are shaking.

“Are you alright?” Your father asks. “Did he do anything to you?”

“I— what—” you can’t breathe. 

“Xu Minghao,” an officer speaks over the commotion. “You are under arrest for the crimes of criminal harassment, assault and battery, and extortion. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney—”

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME—” Minghao’s hand flies out, nearly clipping the officer in the jaw as he finishes speaking. 

He yells obscenities, yells for you, at you, at the people around him. He curses wildly, using every name under the sun, threatens death upon everyone.

Do you know how long I’ve been keeping an eye on you?

“I’m sorry.” 

Gyuri is sitting on the chair beside you as you get your knees treated. You stare blankly ahead of you, and she turns her head to Seungcheol, silently pleading for help.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, “do you understand what’s happening?”

No response.

“Minghao…we told you he was not the man you thought he was. You fell too hard, too fast, didn’t give us time to tell you everything.” 

Silence. Gyuri starts talking again, not knowing if you heard anything they were saying.

“He’s…he was planning on using you, Y/N. Using you to get…to get your father’s company, just like he did with his own father. It…it was all fake. Everything you learned about him, everything we all thought we knew about him…it was all lies. It was in the small details.”

People always said you were innocent. People always called you naive. You trusted too easily, loved even easier. It made it easy to use you, to take everything you had and throw you to the side. Some people of new money were able to gain the respect of those of old money, but you?

No one would ever respect you. 

Not after you fell for the gorgeous man, fell for his gorgeous lies and fantasies. 

Thinking about him here in this hospital room…

Something about it makes you want to sink and drown and die. Maybe that would be easier.

“Can… can I leave?” you look up at Seungcheol, tears welling in your eyes. He looks heartbroken. “I want— I want to leave, Seungcheol. Can we leave?”

Heartbroken. That’s the look in his eye that you couldn’t recognize last night. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t the realization that he had lost you. 

“We can go. It’s over now.”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[onsunnyside]

ok so i've been trying to come up with a mafia trope for this ask by the bestie @bimbofawn: now this isn't a full-blown mob fic, but it has a few elements

The Camerons have all the wealth, influence and success anyone can dream of. They come from a long lineage of fame and riches, now running the parent company of many subsidiaries with power all across the country. It's no surprise they're involved in a few shady businesses, yet it's all kept tightly under wraps.

As the heir to a vast dynasty, Rafe grew up under a lot of pressure to be the best in what he does, and his ego is proof of that. He's in the tabloids, the ivy league graduate by day and the wild bachelor by night, landing himself in more scandals than ass-kissing articles.

The Camerons are known for their prestige and (heavily manufactured) picture-perfect image. So Rafe's sleazy, immature behaviour just won't do. Although he's doing good with the shady side of the family business (bc ofc he's into violence and drug trafficking/manufacturing), he needs to do better with the public side. To give his son a motive for cleaning up his act, he gives him an ultimatum: lose it all and get disowned or settle down.

Now, he has a few months to find someone, but his ego won't let him settle for just anyone. The headlines aren't any comfort either: Pleasure Over Business: Is Rafe Cameron responsible for the fall of the Cameron dynasty?

This is very off-to-the-races coded: you drift into his sector on his friend's arm one night. He shrugs you off, expecting there to be a different girl the next time they go to the clubs (because there always is) but nope, you show up again and again.

It’s hard for him to ignore someone so kindhearted and naturally alluring. He can’t look away from you sipping on the straw, your calm gaze locked on his, making him stumble over his words like a teenager with a crush. He dreams of you every time he falls asleep, your pretty face burned on the inside of his eyelids as if you belonged there.

But one night his friend shows up with a different girl.

"Her rates got too high, and my folks were getting suspicious so I had to let her go, unfortunately." He exhales, his arm around the other woman kissing up his neck.

Now, did he predict you were an escort? Not at all. It catches him off guard and he almost spits up his drink. "You paid her to date you?"

Topper glares, "you don't have to say it like that. We did more than just make appearances together if that's what you're asking. All consensual, of course, but you do have to pay extra for private um... sessions."

me senses... a sugar-baby proposition: "I'll take care of everything, all expenses, your rent, and an allowance on top of that. Anything you want you can have."

You're still apprehensive, you've taken clients who've heard of you from word of mouth before, but this was new. They were best friends who routinely saw each other, you'd hate to stir the pot. "Won't it be weird?"

"You with Top was just business and so is what I'm offering." Perhaps that was a little white lie, but you didn't need to know that. "No harm, no foul. In my hands, you could live better than this."

"I like my home." You mutter, hugging a pillow to your chest, it was one of the many mismatched cushions that littered your old couch. "I worked hard to get it this way."

He nudges the wobbly table by the door, the picture frames rattling on the surface. "For thousands of dollars a night, I would've expected some sense of luxury, or a stove with actual knobs." He says and quirks a brow, "where'd all that money go?"

"Oh... I had to give my boss his cut."

"How much is that?"

"80 percent." You admit, ducking away when Rafe frowns, "I know, I know... It wasn't my fault, my daddy—" Your voice cracks, "My daddy got involved with a bad man after he gambled away all our savings and my college fund. And he still couldn't stop after my mama left. I had to—I had to help somehow."

You still remember returning from campus to see him bruised and battered on the living room floor, crying for your mother who was halfway across the world, now a happily divorced woman. The memory brings tears to your eyes and they stream down your cheeks.

Rafe bites his tongue, rethinking his decision to show up here in the first place. Your unlucky life only made you more perfect, and as terrible as it sounded, he knows he won't find anyone more fitting for his circumstances.

He refused to leave until you agreed.

"What's his name?"

You don't hear him over your sniffles and rub your nose into your pillow, "huh?"

He crouches by your feet, placing a hand on your thigh. "What's the big bad man's name, sweetie?"

"Why—Why are you asking..."

The blue in his eyes seems darker, but it could just be the dim lightbulbs you haven’t changed yet. He blinks up at you with thick lashes, a slow smile crawling onto his face.

"I'm going to prove to you that when you're with me, you've got nothing to worry about."

And the next night, he shows up at your door with a fresh bouquet of flowers and bruised knuckles. You don’t get one word out before drops a heavy duffel bag on the floor, “here’s the money you deserve for your work, and extra for your troubles.”

You glance at the bag and then his face, your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. “What—What did you do?”

He smiles, cocking his head to the side. “Nothing you have to worry about, sweetheart.” He says, wiping toothpaste from the corner of your lip. “Now, are you going to invite me in?”

Rafe is very possessive, he doesn’t care that you dated/slept with his friend because you belong to him now. He buys you a gold necklace with his initial on it, parades you around the city for all the nosy paps to see, and brings you home to meet his family. And yes, you do get the gold seal of approval from his father.

well this is just a mash-up of different tropes 🫡 fake relationship, sugar daddy and mob, with rafe's signature "you're mine" mindset. me has a few slutty and soft ideas for this au too hehe

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Commoner foreign exchange student that is penpal/long time friend with Haruhi is a good consept

And what's more thinking of reader is from the country side where they from so they used to do manual labor and hard working

Meeting the host club would be a lot of them and what's more utter confusion of it but just roll with it

Country Side Reader | Yandere Ouran Highschool Host Club

Like the thought of you just being low-key, relaxed 24/7, and uber-friendly is so hot

Haruhi has you during your exchange program and you both are pumped

But then she’s like ‘sorry can’t hang I have debt’ 

And you’re like ‘it’s cool I’ll help’ 

So she arrives to the host club with you in tow and their just befuddle

“Everyone, (Y/n) (L/n). (Y/n), everyone.”

“Hai Hai!”

The great thing is everyone thinks your cute

But their such sheltered rich kids that they don’t know what you're saying for a while

Your dialect is so different from theirs

Immediately you and Mori-Senpai hit it off

Whether its because he’s just more desperate to talk to you

Or he has some experience with living there

“Ah, Mori-Senpai how’re ya today?”

“Good. Did you finish your assignments from class?”

“Yeah yeah sure takes quicker than ma’ usual routine!”

Honey is  next 

“You talk funny!”

“Ack Honey-senpai! You can’t say that!”

“S’alright I get it.”

He’s not mean about it and he gets better at understanding you with time

Unfortunately, the thing with those two is that they start hogging all your attention

Kyoya being Kyoya decides to put your energy towards something someone else

Eventually finding out you have Honey-levels of strength

No matter your stature 

Tons are easy for you

And at their beck and call you can easily carry Tamaki who might be busy whining somewhere

Then comes the princess energy for Tamaki

“(Y-y/n)-sama!?”

“It’s a’right I’ll carry ya!”

Carry him once in bridal style and he’s now the princess

He loves it 

The Hitachiin Twins also love you 

They can convince you of a lot of things 

“You’ve got to be more skeptical, (Y/n)!”

“Yeah, you keep this up someone might come and snatch you away.”

“Well I din’t think it bad ta trust ma friends.”

“...”

“...”

“You’re right it’s not bad, (Y/n).”

“Yeah you can trust us!”

When you start saying goodbye and giving goodbye gifts they all get real snappy

Not with you but with everyone else

“You’ll have to excuse us (Y/n), it’s just that…we will all miss you terribly.”

“Awww it’s not for’ver though.”

“No, it won’t be.”

They’ve got connections and they're pulling strings

“Yay! Isn’t it great!? We get to spend some more time together! Maybe you can stay with me and Takashi!”

“Yeah."

“Come on! (Y/n), stay with us…” “We have way better sleepovers.”

“No! Stay with me! (Y/n), please? If you want I can try carrying you this time!”

“Such fuss. I’ve already arranged a reserved room in one of the Ootori resorts. I’ll happily accompany you then.”

“Guys don’t overwhelm them! They’ll be staying with obviously.”

“But your house is barely large enough to stretch your legs out!” 

“Grrrr!”

“Anywhere’s fine tho.”

[canirove]

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 1

Summary: Have you ever watched this movie Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans did before Marvel called “The Nanny Diaries”? It's about a girl, Scarlett's character, who finds herself working as a nanny for a very rich family, and Chris happens to be her hot and very cute neighbour. And something very similar is what has happened to me, neighbour included. Though in my case, mine is very cute and very hot. And handsome. The most handsome man I have ever seen. And his name is Rúben.

Author's note: This story has been finished and waiting in my drafts since 2022. I wrote it as a new and different version of "The Nanny Diaries" (my story with Ben Chilwell) because I didn't like it, and then I ended not liking this one either 🙈 But time passed, I read it again recently, thought it was cute… And here we are, having now both of them posted when they weren't supposed to 😅 I hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

Have you ever watched this movie Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans did before Marvel called “The Nanny Diaries”? It's about a girl, Scarlett's character, who finds herself working as a nanny for a very rich family with a spoiled kid and Chris is her hot and very cute neighbour. And something very similar is what has happened to me, but let's start from the beginning.

My entire life was designed to achieve one goal: become the best piano player in the country. Or in the continent if my father got too excited. And since I can remember, I've been glued to one.

While my friends were going out to the park, I was going to my teacher's house to practice. While my friends were meeting to go shopping or watch a movie at the cinema, I was practicing. While my friends were going out clubbing and meeting boys and girls, I was going early to bed because I had practice in the morning. And while my friends were choosing a career path they liked and enjoyed and moving to different cities all around the country, I only had one option: playing the piano and moving to Manchester, where the best teacher lived. 

The weather sucks, yes. But it isn't such an ugly city as they say, and all the people I met were lovely and very welcoming. Unless you are fighting with them for a spot on the next recital or to get the next scholarship. That's when things get nasty, and that's how you end up with broken fingers and the dreams your parents had for you shattered. Because becoming the best piano player of my generation wasn't my dream, it was theirs. Or my father’s to be precise.

So when Anastasia Hamilton pushed me down the stairs and I found myself with two broken fingers on my left hand, a sprained ankle and my body covered in bruises, I didn't complain. Well, that's a lie. I complained and cried because it hurt like hell. But I didn't complain when they told me I wouldn't be able to play the piano like I used to due to one of my fingers not healing properly despite being treated by the best doctors. I didn't complain because I was finally free. If I wanted to play, I would be doing it because I wanted to, not because it was my job, because I had to, because my future depended on it. Now I was free to finally follow my dreams and not my parents’. Or that's what I thought.

I told them I wanted to take a gap year to figure out what to do with my life, but they said no. They had decided that I should study to become a music teacher, to help others achieve what I hadn't been able to. We argued, they said that if I wanted to do anything different it would not be with their money, I said ok, and I found myself alone in Manchester with barely any money or a place to live.

And that's when I crossed paths with Julia. 

I had gone to the shopping centre to see if anyone was looking for a waitress or someone to fold t-shirts in a shop, when I saw her crying in the middle of one of the corridors, most people walking past her and ignoring her. 

"Hey, are you ok?" I said, kneeling in front of her. "Where are your parents?"

"Quiero a mi mamá" she sobbed. That was why people were ignoring her. She only spoke Spanish and they didn't understand her. But, lucky me, I used to go to the north of Spain for music summer camp and I can speak it fluently. 

"¿Dónde está tu mamá?" Where is your mum? 

"No lo sé. Estaba comprando una taza fea y..." Her mum was buying an ugly mug. I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Ok, let’s go find her.” Where we were most shops only sold clothes, but I remembered I had just walked past a Zara Home. Maybe she was there? "Come" I said, grabbing her hand. She didn't say a word and just followed me, her sobs turning into hiccups. 

"Julia!" a woman screamed the moment we turned the corner. "Oh, Julia, I thought I had lost you!" 

"Mami!" the kid said, letting go of my hand and throwing herself at the woman. "Me perdí y esta chica me ayudó."

"Did you help her?" the woman asked me.

"I saw her crying and that people were ignoring her, and I decided to check on her. She was speaking Spanish and I think that's why most people were walking past her, because they weren't able to understand her."

"Oh, she always does that when she gets upset. Do you speak Spanish?"

"Yup."

"Oh, you are an angel" the woman said, hugging her daughter a bit tighter. "I don't know how I'm gonna be able to thank you."

"Knowing that she's alright is enough, don’t worry."

"No, no, no. You must allow me to do something for you. What do you say, Julia. Should we invite this wonderful angel to have lunch with us?"

"Yes!" Julia said, her English coming back. "We'll bake you a chocolate cake! Do you like chocolate cake?"

"I actually do, yes" I smiled.

"Then it's settled. Let me give you my card, it has my office phone number on it" Julia's mum said, opening her bag. "Call tomorrow morning and we'll schedule that lunch together."

"Ok. Thank you."

"Thank you" the woman said, giving me a hug. "My name us Lucía, by the way. But you can call me Lucy like everyone in this country does."

"Nice to meet you, Lucy."

Lucía, Lucy. A Spanish lawyer specialized in divorces, and the divorces of very wealthy people. Which meant that when I arrived at her house for that lunch date, I found myself before one of the most expensive apartment buildings in the city. 

"Are you coming in, miss?" the doorman asked.

"Yes, hi, sorry. Do I have to tell you where I'm going or..."

"You don't look like a thief" the man chuckled.

"I'm not, I promise. I'm meeting with Lucy and Julia."

"Oh, yes. Miss Julia said a friend was coming for lunch today. An angel."

"That must be me" I said, blushing a bit.

"Then welcome, miss" the man said, opening the building's door. "Do you know their floor number?"

"Yes, the 7th. Letter B."

"That’s the one. Call for the lift and push the number, their house will be the one to your right."

"Thank you very much, sir."

"My pleasure, miss" the man said with a smile. Roger. The loveliest man you'll ever meet.

"So glad you could make it" Lucy said after opening the door, giving me a hug. 

"Angel!" Julia screamed, coming to also hug me. "You came!"

"Of course I did."

"She’s decided to start calling you angel because of what I said at the shopping centre. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry" I smiled.

“Come, let me show you my room" Julia said, grabbing my hand and forcing me to follow her.

After a tour around the house and its many rooms, we were back in the living room, one where the small flat I was renting thanks to some money my grandparents had been sending me without my parents knowing, could perfectly fit.

"Is that a real piano?" I asked Julia.

"It's daddy's" she said. "We used to play together."

"That's lovely." My dad never played with me just for fun. It always was about practice, practice... And oh, yes, more practice.

"Do you play?" Lucy asked me.

"Since I was Julia's age."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Why don't you play something for us while we wait for our food?"

"Sure" I said, sitting in front of the huge black piano. It was a very expensive one like everything else on that building.

"Daddy used to play that!" Julia said when she recognized the song. "Hey Jude, don't make it bad... Mami, why are you crying?" she asked her when we finished.

"Because it was beautiful, sweetheart. And you play so well" Lucy told me. "Have you ever thought about giving lessons?"

"Not really..."

"Julia started to take them a few months ago, but her teacher... Had other things to do, so now she doesn't have one. Would you like to take her place?"

"Me?" 

"Yes, angel! Be my teacher!" Julia said, clapping her hands and jumping.

That was what my parents had wanted me to do. To become a teacher. I wasn't going to be doing it at the music school, but this still was teaching, right? And I liked Lucy and Julia a lot despite only knowing them for just a few hours. 

"I'll do it" I said. "I'll be Julia's teacher."

"Oh, perfect!" Lucy smiled. "When can you start?"

"Whenever you want. I have nothing else to do" I shrugged.

"Then tomorrow. I have to work, so maybe you could pick up Julia from school, bring her here and start your lessons? I'll pay you for that extra time."

"Ok" I nodded.

I had found a job, one that I liked, and one that was going to pay me handsomely judging by the numbers Lucy had mentioned while doing a draft of my contract. 

I was so busy thinking about all that, checking the details she had given me about Julia's school, that I hadn’t noticed the lift had made it to the lobby and the doors were open. 

“Are you going up again?” a male voice said.

“Uh?” I replied, lifting my eyes from my phone. And what did they see? The most handsome man you could ever imagine.

“Are you going up again?” he repeated.

“I…” I had forgotten how to speak. I may have not been wearing an ugly costume like Scarlett in one of the scenes where she met Chris Evans, but I had my jaw on the floor and definitely was making a fool of myself. “No” I finally managed to say.

“So… are you leaving, then?” he asked, trying to hide a smile.

“Yes” I said, still looking at him. Was he real? He was real. When he stopped the lift’s door from closing again, taking a step forward towards me, I saw that he was very real. “Thank you. Sorry. I’m leaving” I blurted out, my brain finally remembering how speaking worked. Kind of.

“It’s ok” he replied with a smile. No, not a smile. A smirk. One that made everything inside me turn upside down. “Bye” he said, walking inside the lift and letting go of the doors, disappearing behind them while I just stared. He must have thought I was stupid. A creep. Or both. But what else are you supposed to do when you find yourself face to face with the hottest man in planet earth?

“Miss, are you alright?” I heard Roger say from the door.

“Yes, yes. Just… Processing what just happened. That I got a job, I mean” I quickly added, noticing how he was arching an eyebrow, his eyes moving to the lift. 

“Oh, those are great news, miss. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I guess you’ll be seeing more of me from now on.”

And hopefully, I would be seeing more of him too. Of the hot neighbour, my own Chris Evans. Though later on I would find out that his name wasn’t Chris, that would have been too much of a coincidence.

His name was Rúben. 

[artdcnaldson]

Hi I absolutely love your writing you're amazinggg:)) i was rewatching challengers and a scenario came up to me. don't know if it's any good but wanted to share it nonetheless so in the scene where patrick gets woken up in his car the guy says that it's a country club. now reader could exhibit a: be a country club worker and kinda get lured into arranging some stuff for patrick so that he can stay and stuff without being charged or exhibit b: a rich girl who randomly happens to talk to him and kinda finds him interesting so she goes to her daddy and asks him to allow patrick for a few days😭patrick could either charm(or manipulate) them and lead them on only for his own interest or the reader coulld have a savior complex and genuinely feel the urge to help him

GODDDD the first option is so ?!??!

Because you’re in your fucking ugly work polo, with ugly khaki shorts and tennis shoes and Patrick is leaning in all close asking if there’s anything he can do to just have you look the other way and let him sleep out there.

And you’re just like ?!? Very confused until he repeats it, leans in a little closer. And you’re just fucking scandalized because like !!?? Is he?!! Propositioning himself?? Ethically you tell him absolutely not, but if he needs a place to stay that badly you have a spare room. He looks like he needs it.

So that’s how you wind up sharing an apartment with him for the week. You expect him to just hide out in the spare room, ignore you, maybe axe murder you in your sleep. But he sits on your sofa and talks your ear off while you watch reality tv. He helps you cook dinner so he’s “making himself useful.”

And he flirts with you. A lot. When you’ve both had glasses of wine and he comes onto you, brushes his knuckles up your arm, you bristle. “You don’t have to have sex with me to stay here. I already told you that.”

“What if I just want to? Because you’re pretty, and you’re sweet, and I think someone should be taking care of you. Let me.”

[soljean]

Born a Kook, became a Pogue. - JJ Maybank X Reader Fanfic

Summary: reader lives on Figure Eight, meeting JJ at the annual bonfire one night. From that point on, she can’t seem to stay away from him, despite reader’s strict parents.

This is loosely based off of a dream I had recently. I don’t ever post my own writing, but I had fun with this one! Working on a pt2 if anyone is interested!

——————————————————--

Growing up on the outer banks, you learn quickly that there are two tribes that don’t coexist well. You grew up lucky, always having enough food to eat and clothes to wear. You had access to private schools and country clubs, deeming you part of the Kooks, the rich kids from Figure Eight. On the other side of the island was the Cut, where most blue collar workers had multiple jobs just to make the bare minimum of ends meet. Those were the Pogues. For whatever reason, these social classes never mixed well, one feeling threatened by the other. The fights that would break out when the two intermingled never quite made sense. You never minded the idea of having friends with different backgrounds and life experiences. Not to mention, the material things you had growing up never really meant a thing to you. That’s why on Friday night, you jumped at the opportunity to go to the Boneyard for the annual bonfire, not caring if you’d find yourselves among the Pogues.

Your friend Molly had asked you to go, you and her had only recently become friends. Living on figure Eight, you never really felt like you had anyone you connected to, so good friends were hard to come by. Molly was nice enough, but you two were different. She had of course spent time shopping and choosing the right outfit for the night, where as you settled comfortably for some cutoff shorts and a tank top. It was a beach party at night, was it really a fashion show?

Once you arrived, it didn’t take Molly much time to find some Kook guy to flirt with for the evening, leaving you to figure it out for yourself. You grabbed yourself a drink and started making your way through the crowds of people, looking for someone to talk to. Before you could make it very far, you heard shouting. “Here we go again” you mumbled to yourself. Of course, you caught glimpse of a group of Kooks provoking a fight with the Pogues not too far from you. Knowing how this typically went, you tried to move out of the way, when suddenly you got shoved to the ground, spilling your drink and landing face down in the sand.

“Woah, you okay there?” you heard someone yell to you. You tried get up and see who was talking to you, but you felt a stabbing pain in your shoulder, which had taken the impact of the fall. Your face twisted in discomfort, you rolled on your back and looked up towards the voice you heard. “Yeah, I’m great” you replied, sarcastic as ever. You were met with a pair of soft blue eyes and floppy blond hair to match, the boy’s face filled with concern. With commotion still going on around you, he bent down, clearly trying to help you.

“Come on, let’s get you up and out of the way” he said, taking your hand on your good side and pulling you to your feet. He kept hold of your hand, walking you far off and away from the crowds. Turning around and facing you, you finally got a proper look at him. He was clearly a Pogue from the Cut, with a cutoff t-shirt and cargo shorts. He had kind eyes and a nice smile, his hand still holding a PBR can. He placed his can in the sand and looked at your shoulder. “Can you move it?” He asked you.

“No, I don’t think so. I think I dislocated it” you said, starting to got nervous.

“No worries, I can pop it back in for you” he stated.

“What, do you even know how to do that?” You asked. I mean honestly you didn’t even know the guy.

“Yeah, had my fare share of injuries over the years. Just hold still.” He said, placing his hands on your shoulder. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be quick okay?” He said, looking for confirmation.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s just get it over with.” You said. With that, he made one move and you heard a snap, popping back in place. The pain was radiating throughout your arm, and your eyes started to water, but you didn’t yell in pain, trying to hold it together in front of the stranger you had just met.

“There, I’ve got you, it's good now.” He said, holding you close to him as your breathing steadied. “You’re okay”. After a moment or two, he stepped back and looked you in the eye. “Better?”

“Yeah, uh, thank you. Thanks so much” you said. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life the boy lived if he know how to fix a dislocated shoulder at 17 years old. Nonetheless, you were grateful. “I’m Y/N” you said.

“JJ, and no problem. I saw you get knocked down back there, didn’t look pretty. Sorry you got caught up in that. My buddies always get themselves in the middle of something at these things” he states.

Looking around, the party seemed to have cleared out, the fight clearly scaring the remainder of people off, including your friend Molly. “No problem, it tends to happen here regardless. Looks like we cleared the place out” you joked. He laughed too. “I guess so. Which way are you headed?” He asked.

You pointed towards Figure Eight. “This way” you said. He started in that direction, even though you could clearly tell that was not his side of the island. “I’ll walk you, its dark out, and you took a real beating tonight” he said.

Walking next to JJ, you two began chatting. You learned he worked at the country club your family frequented. He grew up on the cut with his dad, an only child just like yourself. From what you could tell, they didn’t have the best relationship, mentioning that he lived mostly at his friend John B’s house. “Hope I get to see you around at the club sometime” you said. Despite your difference in social class, you could tell he was down to earth, something lacking in the Kook community.

“For sure you will.” He smiled. You approached your place, turning to look at JJ. “Thank you for your help tonight and for walking me home. I know it would have been easier to walk away, so I really appreciate what you did” you confessed. The throbbing of your fresh injury still very much present as a reminder.

“Anytime Y/N. Hope that shoulder doesn’t hurt you too much tomorrow. From my experience it can be sore for a few days. Anyways, I’ll see you around.”. From his experience? With that, the kind boy from the cut walked the other direction and out of sight. You began to feel more hopeful that some genuine people still existed on the island.

————————————————————————

The next few months, you did in fact see JJ at the club working for time to time. One of the first times you spotted him, he immediately clocked your difference in behavior around your parents versus the time you met him. Stopping you on the way to the bathroom one day, he pulled you aside just to check in.

“Hey, Y/N, I was hoping I’d see ya here sometime. Everything good?” He asked.

“Yeah totally, but just so you know, having kook parents isn’t all its made out to be sometimes.” You say with obvious irritation. “This is my life, getting dragged from one snoopy party to the next. Coming to the club to talk with shallow people”

“Ouch, didn’t think I was that bad.” He says, clutching his chest for dramatic effect.

You laugh. “Not you of course. Sorry, you’re sweet to check in. How’s your shift going?” You ask.

“Uhh almost done for the night thankfully, but I should get back. If you’re around later, want to meet me after my shift? Was thinking of a smoke to end the night.” He asked. “Sounds like a plan” I smile. We agree on a meeting spot outside the club and with the he disappeared back to his work.

He quickly became someone you enjoyed running into at the club. Truth be told, you didn’t feel all that happy being a Kook, living life by you parents rules all the time. They were strict, pressuring you constantly to excel in school and meet their high expectations. JJ was different. He was laid back and fun. He was never afraid to let loose or go on an adventure. His friends were welcoming towards you, and they were equally as fun to get to know, but something about JJ was different. You had a connection with him that was special. It added a new component to your life that was almost healing. Overtime, you could feel yourself relaxing and having a part of your life to look forward to more and more.

————————————————————————————

One night, you sat in your room studying when you heard a knock at your door. “Come in” you said, knowing it was likely one of your parents.

“Hi sweetie, do you have a minute to talk?” You mom asked.

“Sure, what’s up?” You asked, closing your laptop and turning to face her.

“Well, your dad and I are concerned about you becoming a little distracted recently. I know you have been making some new friends, but spending too much time with the other side of the island isn’t the best way to keep your priorities in check. You know how vital your education is.” says your mother.

You immediately felt defensive. “Mom, I like my friends. They aren’t distracting me. It’s healthy to be around good people, I feel happier with them then I have in a long time.” You defend as politely as you can.

“Well, we just think it’s best if you stay away for now and keep yourself focused. You’ll need to start thinking about colleges soon, and we want you to have the best opportunities possible. I’m sure you can understand that. For now, no Pogues.”. She stands up and begins making her way to the door.

“This is really unfair Mom, I hope you know that.” you defend.

“We are doing this for you, you know that. Your future comes above everything.” She says.

As soon as the door closes, tears fall. Theres that feeling again. That overwhelming feeling that your life was being controlled and decided for you. Your parents liked Molly, how were the Pogues that different? They were kinder, more loyal. Sure they didn’t have all the material things you had growing up, but that never mattered. As you sit in your room, you start to lose hope and wonder if you’ll be able to stay away.

———————————————————-

A few weeks go by, and you try to obey your parents wishes, staying away from JJ and the Pogues. Of course, JJ had reached out every day, and you were running out of excuses to dodge him. You didn’t want to tell him how your parents felt, knowing it was unfair and mean, but you missed him desperately. He was your best friend.

One night, your parents drag you to some stuffy club event. Truth be told, you looked fried. The last few weeks left you depressed and strained. You were burned out from school and with no social outlet to bring you joy. You sit at the table, faking smiles as best you can, but anyone who knew you would be able to see there was something wrong.

Across the room, you see JJ serving tables. “Oh no” you think. You’re not sure if you can handle an interrogation with him right now. You quickly excuse yourself from the table, walking out of the dining room to find anywhere to be alone and away from a possible run in with JJ. You hop out onto the balcony of the restaurant that is tucked away, noticing its empty. You take a few moments to catch your breath when you hear the door open behind you. “Y/N?” You hear. Of course it was him. You feel panicked, unsure if you could face him.

“I saw you run out back there. I just wanted to come check on you.” He says. You turn to face him, tears welling in your eyes. As soon as he sees your face he softens, going over to you and pulling you into his chest. “Hey, what’s wrong? What’s been going on with you lately?” He asks, hands rubbing up and down your back. You lean back to face him, not sure what to say. He moves to wipe the tears from under your eyes, getting more concerned the longer you stay quiet. “Baby you know you can talk to me” he whispers, keeping his hands on the sides of your face.

You decide to just confess the truth right there, knowing there was no way around it. “My parents asked me not to see you anymore. They think it’s better for my future if I stay away, which is complete bullshit. That’s why I’ve been so MIA though, and it’s been killing me. I’ve missed you.” You stumble through your words, unsure how he’ll react, but glad you got it out in the open. JJ lets out a breath you didn’t know he’d been holding. Now that you are staring him in the eyes, you notice that he too looks completely exhausted.

“I thought I did something to push you away” he says. “I missed the shit out of you, Y/N.” He pulls you back in for a hug. “We’ll figure something out, just please don’t scare me like that again.” He says.

“You have no idea how tough parents can be.” You say to him. He pulls back to look at you, searching your eyes for something.

“I just might actually. Look, can you get away and meet me later?” He pleads.

“Um, yeah sure. I’ll figure out a way. Just text when you can.”

“Okay” he confirms, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out I promise. Now get back inside before they come looking”. He’s right, who knows how long you’ve already been gone. You take one last look in his eyes, then turn around, heading back into the dining room for a few more hours of empty conversation.

[sweetandscarlet]

tension in between us

summary: after coming back to work after a vacation, you meet a woman who wanted nothing more than simply, just your company. that was until she visits you once again.

warnings: 18+, stripper!reader (23), rich business lady!wanda (32), lap dancing, oh the tension, horny thoughts are being thunk, power play, eventual smut, wanda being a nervous wreck around beautiful women. minors DNI.

words: 5k

an: i’ve been meaning to post this for a while. happy (extremely late) belated anniversary everyone :) xo saph.

edit: i’ve made a few changes to the warnings since this one shot will be split into two parts as i feel it’s too long for one post! enjoy :)

the cold air was something you had grown accustomed to for a few months now, and as much as you longed for summer to come; there was something refreshing about feeling the chill breeze against your face as you walked towards a secluded but well-built building.

the name always made you smile as you stared up at the glowing neon lights, ‘house of harkness’ reflected in purple onto the mundane streets behind you. you knew of the face beyond the name, you had for years.

miss harkness, or as you personally call her; agatha, was a close friend of your late mother’s. she had taken you in as a friend and mother figure after the unfortunate death of your own. something you would never be able to repay her for, but, agatha was different compared to the people who had come and gone in your lifetime. she simply cared for you, nothing more and nothing less.

“how are you, miss?” your attention was pulled from your blank gaze at the sign, and your eyes followed the voice to the man who stood in front of the entrance of the club. “i’ve not seen you for a while”

you smiled at his kindness, stepping forward just slightly. “i was on vacation, henry. you’ll never believe the sights i’ve seen in england, it was magnificent, much different to what we know here”

the man’s eyes widened just a little at your reply, “a vacation? wow, i'm glad you had fun, y/n. i’ve visited england before, the dialect takes a second to get used to but it’s a beautiful country nonetheless”

you nodded in response, your smile never faltering towards the familiar man.

henry was someone you had known for as long as agatha. he was a loyal server to the owner, working the doors of clubs she had owned in the past and following where ever she settled next.

he was a kind man, someone who knew your mother well, held her memory in his heart and quickly upon meeting him, you had grown accustomed to his sincerity.

“are you ready to get back to work? we seem to have some big spenders in tonight” he asked, stepping to the side to make room for your entrance through the heavy silver door.

“ready as i’ll ever be” is all you could respond as you move forward. henry pulled open the door, watching as you stepped in before smiling once more and closing it behind you.

you make your way through the hallway, purple lights guiding your way as you reached the reception. the staff member who was perched behind the register nodded at you and you shot them a small smile back before continuing your walk into the depths of the club.

“y/n! you’re back!” agatha’s voice boomed over the music that echoed throughout the club, you glanced at your surroundings, noticing the many customers that were situated with other woman you hadn’t worked with before. you brushed it off, turning your attention to agatha who stood close to the bar.

“hi, agatha” you replied, smiling as you stepped closer. the older woman pulled you in for a hug and you instantly sighed in her embrace, you squeezed your arms around her before pulling away. “henry tells me there are big spenders in tonight”

“well not so much right now, those guys have a table booked a couple of hours from now. the other ‘not so generous’ customers are occupied at the moment but.. there is someone here who hasn’t had a dance yet”

you shoot her a puzzled look and agatha chuckles amusingly at the confusion written on your face.

“i think she’s a first timer”

the confusion only grows more. “she?.. i don’t think we’ve ever had a female customer”

“well,” agatha tuts, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “there’s a first time for everything, kid.. would you?”

you shuffle your weight on your feet, turning your head to look up at the older woman. “fine, but i better make some good money from her”

agatha laughs once more, “don’t worry doll. when you see her, you’ll know she means business”

you choose not to reply at that, instead, you slip out of agatha’s hold and head towards the changing room. once you pull open the door, you throw your bag on one of the counters and begin the process of getting ready.

ᗢ

fifteen minutes had passed since your brief conversation with agatha.

you had already done your makeup prior so all you had to do was adorn yourself in red lingerie, and garter belts to match along with your red-bottomed stilettos. it was a popular outfit of yours, a signature look that was sure to get you thousands as it had done in the past.

you gave yourself one last look in the large mirror in front of you, checking your ruby lipstick was pristine and your curls fell perfectly against your shoulders.

“let’s do this” you whisper to yourself before grabbing your clutch that lay next to the large bag you carried inside with you. “it’s show time”

you swiftly turn around before exiting through the changing room door and back into the busy club where coloured lights flash and the booming music echoed around you.

you nod over at agatha who stays perched near the bar. she smiles back at you, her eyes never faltering away from yours. “looking good, kid. you ready to paint the town scarlet?”

you roll your eyes dramatically at the use of your allies.

“just a heads up, some of the girls have already tried to get some money out of her but.. she’s a tough nut to crack so good luck”

a smirk twitches at the corner of your lips, “she hasn’t met me yet”

agatha shoots you a playful wink, her hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders. “that’s the spirit, my little money maker”

you let out a sigh, shifting your weight as you prepare yourself. after a fleeting moment passes, you smile at the older woman before turning around in her hold; making agatha’s arms fall to her hips. you purse your lips and while holding your head high, you take a few steps forward.

your eyes scan the room, in search of the hard to crack-mystery woman. you land on a table of men that are gathered around with champagne, smirks on their faces and a dancer hooked onto each arm like leaches.

you want to roll your eyes at the desperation that oozes from most of them, the way they cling onto one customer that won’t so much as cough up a hundred bucks. it was painful to see, but you tear your attention away from them. reminding yourself that you were once new too, new and naive. they’ll learn.

you continue to keep your eye on the prize, walking past the table that boomed loudly with belly laughs and hollers.

just as you were about to give up and complain to agatha that the woman was no longer in sight, you spot red hair that broadly made itself known behind a pillar and as you turn the corner; you’re greeted by a woman, a gorgeous woman at that, in a black suit, situated with one leg over the other as she nurses a whiskey glass.

you push the thought of how disgustingly good looking this stranger is and instead focused your mind back to why you were here. money.

“hi there, you look like you’re in need of some good company” it was a pathetic starter conversation really, you knew that. “what brings you into the house of harkness?”

the redhead raises her gaze from her glass and up to you. you watch as she gulps dryly, her eyes subtly scanning your body before eventually flickering back up to your face.

“oh you know, just a bit of shopping..” you snigger at that, stepping the tiniest bit closer towards the obviously tense woman. she shakes her head at her own words before moving her crossed leg to rest back on the plush chair she sits on. “that was a terrible joke, i’m sorry. i- i don’t know why i’m here, i was recommended by a friend of a friend and well..”

you smile, “and now you’re here” your eyes drop to the empty chair at the table, “you know it’s- may i?” your hand gestures out, stepping closer to the seat.

the older woman eyes you for a split second before nodding her head. you pull out the chair from under the table, moving slightly before situating yourself down on it; throwing a leg over the other as you maintain eye contact.

“its not everyday we have beautiful women like yourself in here, i think this calls for a celebration..” you nod your head at the older woman.

“oh i- thank you.. and wanda. my name’s wanda”

“wanda” you repeat, liking how the name sounds and how easily it rolls off of your tongue. “how ethereal.. i think this calls for a celebration, wanda. shall we get a drink?”

the redhead looks down at the empty glass she had been nursing for god knows how long. she lingers on the thought briefly, her mind and body battling the decision to stay or leave.

“what’s your name?” wanda asks, mentally kicking herself for how timid the question sounds coming out of her mouth. “it’s not something like diamond is it?”

a laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head. “you’re definitely a newbie, aren’t you? no, nothing cliche at that, my name is scarlet. as you can tell from my whole ensemble, i’m partial to the colour red”

wanda’s gaze drops to your red lipstick and then the lacy bra that pushes up your chest oh so perfectly that it makes wanda subconsciously lick her lips at the mere thought of being so close to them.

“hmh, i can see that. reds my favourite colour, too” wanda hums, her eyes flickering back up to your piercing gaze. “i think i will take you up on that drink offer. what would you like? it’s on me”

bingo.

your smile stretches from ear to ear at that. knowing damn well this is how it starts, it’s an easy trick of yours. coax nervous customers into a conversation, offer to have a drink with them and before you know it they’re racking up thousands in purchases on their bank cards.

“such a gentlewoman, thank you. i’ll take a rum and coke, please”

ᗢ

you don’t even realise until you check your phone that an hour had passed, wanda was currently back at the bar and paying for another round of drinks for the two of you. you had both slipped into an easy conversation that seemed to make time pass you by in a blink of an eye.

you sit up straighter when wanda approaches your table with a drink in each hand. you proudly noticed how over the hour, the older woman’s tension seemed to decrease massively as she reaches her empty seat.

“i have to leave soon,” wanda mentions as she situates herself back in her seat. she places your drink in front of you and then takes a lengthy sip of her own before placing it down on a napkin. “i have work in the morning, but.. i enjoyed talking to you, scarlet”

you pick up your drink, watching the liquid bubble with fizz in the glass as you mull over your next move. now’s the time, just do it.

you shift to the edge of your seat, a delicate hand reaching over to rest on the top of wanda’s thigh and you immediately love the feeling of the expensive material of her pants suit under your finger tips. “i enjoyed talking to you too, wanda. you know.. we could always finish these drinks in one of the booths?”

wanda’s eyes shoot down to your hand, then to the left of you to glance at the ‘private booths’ sign that shone brightly in purple neon, until eventually she turned back to capture your gaze.

you pull your hand away from the warmth of her thigh, watching as the gears turn in wanda’s mind, the mental battle of should or shouldn’t. it made you itch with eagerness and something you can’t quite put your finger on. never in your career has anyone doubted the thought of getting you alone in a dark booth that was only covered by a black curtain. men always jumped at the chance but, wanda… wanda was different. shy, kind, respectful. it was intriguing nonetheless.

“i- i think..” wanda reaches a hand inside one of her pant pockets, you watch with baited breath as she digs around before eventually pulling out a wallet. “i’m not sure how much-“

she flicks through the thick stack of neatly placed bills before settling on several notes and placing them on the table next to your drink.

your eyes fall to them instantly and before you can muster up a reply, wanda beats you to the punch.

“is three-hundred enough? i’m not sure how this works but..” wanda sighs as she rises to her feet, she picks up her drink and takes a few more sips before settling it back down. “i really should go, thank you for your company, scarlet”

your lips part as your eyes rake up her suit clad body, confusion is evident in your face as you land on emerald-green eyes. “wanda..”

“maybe i’ll see you again?” the older woman offers as she folds her wallet up before slipping it back into its resided pocket. “thank you, really. i had fun”

your eyes flicker down to the money that lay in front of you and then back up to the redhead. conflict swarms through your mind at the thought of the woman leaving. you had done what you came to do, make money. but.. this was so different to other customers, they never simply just paid for your time. they came here to see one thing only; you, naked.

you decided to plaster a smile on your face, ignoring the ache in your chest to convince her to stay, before standing up to bid her a goodbye. “yeah, i- until next time, wanda”

wanda nods at you in response, her eyes holding your gaze for a brief moment before she turns on her heels and walks away from the table. you stay there, confused at the interaction as you watch her heels click one by one before eventually fading away and leaving out of the building.

oh, you were definitely intrigued now.

your turn to face the now empty table, your eyes land on the money and you can’t help a smile creeping on your face at the entire situation. for a quick hour of conversation with a beautiful woman, you managed to make more money than you would have done with the other customers who were currently eyeing you up like meat on a platter.

you shake your head with an exasperated sigh as you reach down to collect the bills. it’s not long before you make your way back over to the bar to where agatha’s perched near the edge, watching your every move.

“i guess you were right, doll..” agatha beams, noticing the notes in your hand. you extend your hand and give her the money with a grin. “how did you manage to crack her?”

you purse your lips, sucking your tongue against the back of your teeth before shrugging. “i didn’t do anything, we just spoke and then she said she had to leave”

“so,” agatha tilts her head. “she just.. gave you this? god, you really are the best of the best”

you laugh at that with a rolls of your eyes. “yeah, yeah. you’re just saying that because i make you more money in a day than these other girls do in a week”

agatha tuts, “although that is true, you really do have a talent kid. those new girls couldn’t get a cent out of her before you came out”

pride swirls in your chest at her words. the thought that out of everyone here, wanda chose to tip you. excitement brewed in the pit of your stomach at the off chance of her actually visiting again, it was something you had never felt towards any other customer who had visited before.

“did she say anything before she left?”

agatha’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and snaps you back into reality, your eyes flicker up to hers as your mind quickly registers her question.

“just that she had to leave and that maybe she’ll see me again?.. i can’t see that happening to be honest but hey, stranger things have happened here”

ᗢ

a few days had passed since your last interaction with wanda. everyday that you worked since, your eyes briefly scanned the hallways every so often, watching as customer after customer piled into the club. but, you never saw thick locks of stunning red hair in the sea of people.

your work days were thankfully busy, which meant you spent hardly any time pondering over whether or not, a stranger; that had quickly invaded your thoughts, would ever come back.

“hey.. sorry to interrupt”

your turned away from your current conversation with agatha and your eyes quickly landed on a timid looking girl, staring at you. you could feel the nervousness radiate from her as she shifted on her feet, waiting with baited breath for you to speak. you eyed her cautiously, your mind registering that you had never spoken to her before.

you smiled as best as you could though, given your somber state over once again, no sign of a certain redhead, in hopes that it would help ease her anxiety. “hey, it’s all good. you okay?”

the younger girl smile brightly at your politeness, her shoulders falling as the tension left her ever so slightly. “yeah, thank you. i just.. sorry, i haven’t had a chance to meet everyone properly yet. are you scarlet by any chance?”

“that she is, melody” agatha spoke, causing both of you to turn towards her as her voice reached your ears. “the one and only, the best of the best”

your gaze flickers back over to the younger girl and you smile once again, rolling your eyes. “pfft, don’t listen to her, she’s crazy”. a grin spreads on your plump lips upon hearing agatha gasp dramatically, but you continue your focus on the girl in front of you. “i’m not the best but i am scarlet though, what can i do you for?”

the younger girl, who you now know as melody, shifts on her feet once more, her eyes scanning over to a certain part of the club before looking back over to you. “someone’s requested you specifically, she didn’t give a name but-“

“she?…” you ask, your heart beginning to beat slightly faster. you pick up your clutch from the bar and sling it over your shoulder, shooting agatha a knowing look. “what did she look like?”

“absolutely gorgeous” melody hums, taking a step back to allow you some room to move. “red hair, black suit. she’s sitting over near the lounge”

you teeth bite down on your bottom lip, chewing nervously as the younger girl speaks. you thank her before briefly bidding a goodbye to both agatha and the dancer.

your legs quickly move in front of you, your mind racing with determination as you walk towards the lounge. after walking past a few busy tables, your turn and instantly your eyes fall on wanda who’s perched in a chair that’s situated with a small table in the corner of the room. you bite back a grin as you step closer towards her, ignoring the way excitement bubbles in your chest.

green eyes trail upwards from the phone in her hands, until eventually she’s staring back at you, watching as you approach.

“hey, you um- you asked for me?”

wanda smiles, her hand gesturing to the empty chair opposite her. you instantly obey to the silent command and perch yourself on the chair.

“yeah.. i wanted to see you and thank you again for the other day. i think you could have smelled how new i am to this environment and.. well, you were really kind so, thank you”

your eyes trailer over wanda’s body as she speaks. it makes you almost audibly grown at how good she looks, the beauty and power that radiates from her as she sits in a black suit and heels to match.

ignoring the dull ache you feel building between your thighs, you shift slightly in your chair and lean forward.

you certainly don’t miss the way wanda’s eyes fall quickly to your cleavage and back up to your face.

“that’s nice of you to say, wanda. did you come all the way here just to say that?”

the redhead chews delicately on her bottom lip before taking a deep breath. “no i- i want to.. i’m not sure of the prices but, i want a dance.. from you”

“oh?..” is all you could say as you gulp dryly at wanda’s confession. you study the way she fiddles with her fingers, the way one leg bounces gently and how her brow line creases into a frown. “are you sure? you seem nervous”

it was a shameful thing to point out about someone, you knew that. but, you couldn’t help the concern you felt towards the older woman. sure, if this was any other customer; you’d happily take their money without so much as blinking. but, wanda was kind, deferential. you wanted her to be sure of her decision.

“it’s because i am,” wanda scoffs with a chuckle and repositions herself on her chair. “but yeah i- i do want this, i��m just..”

your shoot her a lopsided smile. “it’s okay, you don’t have to explain, as long as you’re certain”

wanda nods, feeling nothing but relief at your words. how could she possibly begin to explain why she’s nervous? she has no reason to be. she’s a grown woman, someone much older than you, who has plenty of life experience and wisdom and yet when it comes to this? she’s a ball of anxiety that’s ready to roll out of the door and never return.

maybe a drink will help, she thinks.

“do you want a rum and coke? i’m just going to head to the bar before we start”

you smile at the redhead as you rise to your feet, “i’d love one, c’mon, let’s go together”

ᗢ

the air is thick with tension as you both step into the dark booth that’s only light comes from the illumination of bright purple fairy lights that hang overhead.

you motion for wanda to sit down as you plug a cable into your phone that connects you to the speaker. once you do, you pull up a playlist and press shuffle. music slowly builds into an easy rhythm and you gently sway your hips on every beat.

you can feel wanda’s eyes burning a hole into the back of you and a smirk twitches at the corner of your lips as you continue to dance.

you shift backwards, your ass only a few inches away from wanda’s face and that’s when you begin your routine. you reach down, your fingertips touching the tips of your heels and you can’t help but hum at the delicious stretch you feel in the back of your thighs.

you move your hands from your heels, smoothing them up your calf’s and over the back of your legs until you reach your ass. you grab a fistful of flesh and teasingly spread your cheeks apart.

you hear wanda groan from behind you and you can’t help but feel pride beam proudly in your chest once again. the same pride you felt on the first day that you met her, when you realised that out of every dancer in the club; wanda chose you. she chose to speak to you, to tip you. and to now be the one who gives her, her first lap dance.

“you doing good back there?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm laced in your voice as you trail your arms up to your hips, pulling at both ends of the hem of your thong. you let them go with a brief snap against your skin before turning around to face wanda. “sounds like you’re enjoying the view to me”

you hook a finger under wanda’s chin, tilting her head upwards to face you and even in the dimly lit darkness of the booth, you can see the way wanda’s pupils fade from emerald green to black as they dilate. the way her chest rises in uneven breaths and the way her hands grip the edge of her seat harshly.

wanda parts her lips, the words she so badly wants to whisper just dancing on the tip of her tongue. i want you. instead she settles for a breathy “yes”, leaning forward as she does in a desperate attempt to be closer to you.

she fights every instinct in her body to not reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin under her fingertips.

“good,” you mutter, your hot breath hitting her lips as you speak, and it takes everything in you to not close the gap between you. “you really are something else, you know, wanda. you’re so unbelievably gorgeous, it hurts”

you pull away, releasing the hold on her chin and continue to dance, swaying your hips as your hands roam over your body until they reach the curve of your breasts. you give them a generous squeeze and wanda’s eyes never falter as she watches in awe.

wanda holds your gaze, even when you step closer and closer until you swing a leg over her hips, your other one following soon after. she gulps dryly when you fully straddle her, your hands moving to rest on her shoulders.

your hips stay just a few inches above her lap and wanda’s teeth clamp down on her bottom lip when they begin to grind gradually in the air.

“me?..” wanda gasps, the grip on her seat getting tighter and tighter by the second until her fingers turn white. “have you seen you? you’re a fucking masterpiece, scarlet. the things i-“

you tilt your head downwards at that, your face a few inches away from wanda who sits there with flushed cheeks and her lips clamped shut.

“the things you what?..”

a shaky sigh hits your skin before wanda drops her head in embarrassment. “nothing, i- forget i said that”

you hum in thought, your movements coming slowly to a halt as you let the lower half of your body rest on wanda’s thighs. your already peaked heart rate spikes dramatically at the feel of once again, expensive cotton and all your mind can think of is grinding against one of her tense thighs until you leave a mess on her pants suit.

“you can call me y/n, by the way” your words come out in a broken whisper and you don’t even care, your mind is swirling with nothing but wanda. how her skin would feel against your touch, the softness of her lips against yours, what makes her tick and how she would sound when she reaches that blissful peak of an orgasm. “scarlet is just an allies”

“y/n” wanda repeats, lifting her head up once more until your eyes interlock. “that’s a pretty name, it suits you”

you smile down at her, liking the way your names sounds when it comes from her. it makes you itch more with want and you can feel yourself becoming unbearably needy as she holds your gaze. “do you- are you busy after this?”

your eyes widen as the words leave your lips and you instantly begin to climb off wanda’s lap, stepping backwards until the coldness of a large mirror behind you hits your back.

you quickly reprimand yourself as mortification creeps in at such a question. something you have never asked a customer before, let alone thought of. how could you be so stupid?

“fuck, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to say that. i don’t think before i speak“

you could see a hint of faint surprise written on wanda’s face but, as she rises from her seat; something you can’t quite place glistens in her eyes as she parts her lips to speak. “you didn’t mean it? that’s quite a shame”

she steps closer towards you, inching closer until you can once again feel her hot breath hitting your skin. “are you sure you didn’t mean it because..” wanda sighs, her eyes hungrily raking down the smooth skin of your body. “my diary’s completely free and if i’m being honest, for the past few nights all i’ve thought about is you”

her confession makes you gulp hard, the confidence and boldness you had before is slowly vanishing as a new side of wanda shows herself and cracks through the surface of her once timid and unsure demeanour.

you clear your throat and stand up straighter, your eyes never breaking contact as you try to regain some sense of tenacity. “oh do tell,” you mutter, moving closer just an inch until you feel the curve of wanda’s breasts pressing against your own. “i’d love to hear about how you’ve been thinking of me”

wanda’s gaze flicker to your lips for a split second before taking a small intake of breath. “well, well, you’re a brave little girl, aren’t you? my thoughts envision you as someone who takes it lying down but.. i guess i was wrong”

a slight grin itches at your lips at the back and forth dynamic you both hold but you bite it back, not wanting to show any significant detail of feeling on your face. “oh i do like to take it lying down but.. you’re right, wanda. i’ll never step down from a challenge”

wanda smiles and unlike before, when it was soft, gentle and the dimples in her cheeks formed; this one held something much more sinister behind it. “we’ll see how long it takes before i break you, darling”

before you could reply, the sound of your timer plays loudly in the booth causing both of your heads to turn towards the noise and the illumination of your phone screen.

“looks like my time is up” wanda voiced with a hum as she steps back a few feet. the loss of her warmth against you makes you want to reach out and pull her back towards you until your bodies deliciously press together again. “so, tell me y/n, what happens next?

[sanjoongie]

Mile High Club

ღPairing: Reader (f) x Jung Wooyoung ღGenre: smut with no plot ღAu: mile high club au, biker au, rich ceo au, established situationship lmao ღWord Count: 1,347 ღWarnings: public sex, exhibitionism, dom! wooyoung, sub! reader ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: Wooyoung has to leave the city but he's not leaving you behind and he certainly does not fly economic either. ღDedication~ in conjunction with @thelargefrye who is writing mile high club! seonghwa, @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland for beta reading ღA/N: Happy birthday woo bb, my spirit animal, light of my life

Wooyoung's eyes followed you as you sat hesitantly across from him on the private jet the both of you had boarded. Wooyoung had to fly to his offices on the other side of the country and that's why the two of you were here. Wooyoung refused to leave you alone in this city without him and your work was used to Wooyoung yanking you from your life by now. What he did love was pampering you with everything he had to give. And that included a private jet.

"Okay?" Wooyoung raised his eyebrows in question to you. He grabbed a water bottle and opened it. He tipped his head back to give it a swig. The wonderful line of his jaw and adam's apple and neck wasn't something to laugh at. His eyes slid your way and was happy to report that you had crossed your legs anxiously. He knew it had nothing to do with the flying.

"Did we have to come on your bike instead of the car?" You bit at him which he let fly over his head. You often bit at him but he liked it. All Wooyoung wanted in a partner was someone to verbally play with.

Wooyoung laughed silently, his shoulders shaking. "I won't be able to drive in the city, it'll be mostly drivers."

Your hands twisted as well, and when that wasn't enough, you began to dig half-moon's into the palms of your hands. "Pretty, come sit over here," Wooyoung suggested.

You said "ha!" mirthlessly. "I don't think so, Woo."

Wooyoung cocked his head 'innocently'. "What's wrong?" He leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs, hands covering his mouth. The bill of his cap barely hid his inquisitive eyes. 

"Do not, Wooyoung," You bit even harder.

Wooyoung was happy his hands were over his mouth or you'd see his smirk, and then he was pretty sure that meant not getting what he wanted during this flight. And he really, really, really wanted to get this.

"Come on, sit with me. I'm a spoiled rich guy who still hates flying. Come hold my hand." Wooyoung held out his hand and waved his fingers.

You sighed loudly, well aware that this was a trap, and Wooyoung was luring you in. But if you could have resisted him, you wouldn't have even been on this plane. You lost your ability to say no to Wooyoung a long time ago. 

So you stood up and sat beside Wooyoung. He took your hand, placed it high on his thigh, put his hand over yours and sat there, eyes toward the nose of the plane, waiting eagerly for the staff to tell them to prepare for assent. And the bugger didn't do a damn thing… until the plane was miles high in the air and the staff receded.

Once the staff closed the folding doors, Wooyoung's hands wrapped around your waist and hauled you on top of him, straddling his body on the bench seat you two had been sitting on. "Hi," He said cheekily, like he didn't just put you in a very compromising position.

"Wooyoung!" You hissed, head snapping towards the doors that had just finished shutting.

"No one will hear us," Wooyoung grinned. His tongue was between his teeth and he was doing nothing to hide his grin now either.

"I am not--Wooyoung!" You slapped his chest.

Wooyoung began to chuckle and it went straight to your core. "I'll rip your jeans right now if you keep that up; expose the fact that you have no underwear on and take full advantage of that."

Your nostrils flared at Wooyoung's gall. "You wouldn't give me my underwear and we had to rush out because of your antics, Jung Wooyoung."

"I still have them in my pocket. I like the red." Wooyoung smiled teasingly.

You gripped Wooyoung's face between your thumb and forefingers. It squished his cheek together comedically. "Stop running your mouth." Wooyoung simply puckered his lips and made kissy noises.

You made a noise of disgust and moved to get up but Wooyoung's arms locking behind the small of your back made it a bit impossible to leave. Your thighs lifted your ass up and then you landed back on Wooyoung's thighs, except this time you were higher up Wooyoung's body and your eyes widened. 

"Come on, pretty. Fuck me. Let's join the mile high club."

Like you said, you had lost your ability to say no to Wooyoung a long time ago. 

Your pants had been discarded, Wooyoung's down by his feet, but there was a blanket drawn around your waist to hide your nakedness. Wooyoung's hands were around your waist, sometimes skimming up your ribcage to admire the body in front of him. You already had him fully seated inside of you, something that was never done easily with Wooyoung, who adored suddenly bucking up into you and causing you to gasp. 

"Where the hell did you find condoms that say mile high club?!" You demanded incredulously. 

Wooyoung's head was tipped back on the seat, eyes glimmery under his hat. "I know a guy."

You were about to grumble under your breath that he always said that, when Wooyoung rolled his hips against you, and turned the grumble into a groan. It didn't take long before the two of you were earnestly fucking each other. To Wooyoung's greatest glee, you were unable to keep your noises to a minimum so the staff--maybe all the way to the pilot!--knew you two were fucking on this plane. 

Wooyoung was having a hard time deciding where he wanted his eyes at. Watching his dick drenched in your wetness continuously pound into you was making his hand itch to film but he knew you would shriek at him. You wouldn't put it past him to leak it 'accidentally'. But he also wanted to watch your eyebrows furrow in pleasure and you bite down on your forefinger, your hand raised to your lips in an effort to keep yourself quiet--and failing. Your boobs in the high collar t-shirt were bouncing gloriously in front of him and he just wanted to lean forward and capture your pert nipple in his mouth. 

"Fuck, Wooyoung, shit," You cursed him. Your hand slapped onto the slanted ceiling above you in an effort to brace yourself as Wooyoung waved his body between your thighs. 

Wooyoung's hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing them ardently. "Feels good, pretty, bouncing on my dick this high, huh?"

Your eyes snapped open, part angry, part horny, and Wooyoung couldn't have been more turned on at this moment. "Stop gloating."

A slow, smug smile pulled across his lips as he raised his head. "Why don't you worry about coming first?"

You opened your mouth to scold him again but this time Wooyoung snapped his hips up into you, pushing a fervent noise from your throat. You clapped your free hand over your mouth and Wooyoung knew you had embarrassed yourself. Wooyoung let loose one "I told you so" and then tensed his pelvis and fucked you at just the right angle to have you coming apart above him immediately.

You collapsed against Wooyoung's chest completely and bonelessly, twitching and fluttering around him. Wooyoung had come once your walls started squeezing down on him. He had filled the condom and was regretting keeping this clean. He wanted to lick a creampie out of you suddenly. He knew you would never let him on the plane, but it was nice to think about. 

"Wooyoung," You panted into his neck, giving him goosebumps. 

Wooyoung was running his finger tips up and down your spine, returning the favor of goosebumps. "Pretty?"

"We are--NEVER--doing that--again!" You said into his slightly damp skin. 

Wooyoung's chuckles reverberated in his chest and you felt them through your own body as well. "I can't promise that."

You bit down on Wooyoung's neck, teeth threatening lightly. Except now Wooyoung was groaning. "I give up," You groaned in frustration.

Wooyoung patted your butt lovingly. "At least the staff don't have to clean up after us." Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @pyeonghongrie @k-pop-ology