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mv1simp · 6 months ago

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requested : dark mafia max!!

Devilish ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

Girl who you tryna call, it’s a quarter past four, can’t nobody hear you scream right now

The Leeuw of Holland - or Mad Max, as he was referred to in his teen years - is well known for establishing his father's control over most of Eastern Europe. No one would dare to stand up to him for fear of losing their head - until you, the sweet daughter and lawyer of Monaco's mayor - who's determined to protect her small city from the Verstappen familia by putting the Leeuw behind bars.

Leeuw = Lion in Dutch

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, mafia boss! Max falls for mayor’s daughter! Reader, reader is also a boss ass bitch, kidnapping, violence, explicit mention of murder/dead bodies/mutilation, nothing towards reader cuz maxie is a simp 🥰 9.5k WC omg my longest yet

You feel a shiver run up the back of your spine from where you stand in the high court. Knowing exactly who’s dark gaze is raking down your body, taking in your small figure that's stylishly dressed in a tight Chanel dress and matching heels, you deliberately keep your gaze fixed forward. The judge looks like he's about to have a heart attack, sweat dripping down his forehead as he glances back and forth between you - the fiercely passionate lawyer who'd presented the numerous charges on behalf of her father, the Mayor of Monaco - and to the tall, Dutch man who sat watching you with a cocky smirk. The blonde’s large thighs spread wide and the Leeuw of Holland, as he was famously named, looked far too calm for a man who'd just had 76 counts of murder brought forward against him.

You'd had no idea who the Dutch Lion was when you two had first met. You'd just returned with your law degree from college in America, only to find things in a state of disarray in the idyllic city of Monaco. Your father had always struggled to maintain his citizen's safety as the Mayor as the neighbouring Leclerc and Sainz familias battled for territory - but in your absence the now established, much bloodthirstier Verstappen familia had seized control of the profitable area. Monaco's location served as prime real estate to ship all the drugs and black money a criminal could wish for to the rest of Eastern Europe, and Jos Verstappen had personally sent his own son and underboss - Mad Max - to secure your father’s territory.

You'd head rumours, of course, even all the way abroad in the States, of this Verstappen heir. He was known for his rage and callous violence that earned his nickname, the perfect hitman for his cold, calculating father. You’d thanked your lucky stars you had never come face to face with him, because you were sure he would kill you - or worse, you think with a shudder - if he came across the Mayor of Monaco’s daughter. But after coming back home for the last two months and finding things in such upheaval, you became more determined to do right by your family’s citizens. Your mother - who had passed away when you were young, at the hands of a Sainz thug - had been very passionate about helping those who couldn’t protect themselves, so you always lived your life in a way you knew she would be proud of.

So that’s why you spent endless days poring over the city’s legislature and laws, overturning laws that had made civilian’s finances and livelihoods hard and submitting proposal after proposal of new laws that were severely harsh on crime. The locals quickly noticed the change from the Mayor’s office, and you became idolised as Monaco’s princessa.

Your father, bless him, although his heart was always in the right place, he had gotten too old to go head to head with the gangs, choosing to bargain with the gangs instead and buy his citizen’s safety that way. You argued that it was only a matter of time before Jos Verstappen showed up at your family’s doorstep to demand more and more from the city of Monaco - until he owned it himself. You were determined to catch him, or even better - catch his son, the one who’d inherit the Verstappen empire, and put a stop to this rapidly expanding mafia before it grew out of control. Your dedication to do right by your people inspired your father to once again champion for the safety of his city.

And for a while, everything seemed to be flowing smoothly. You’d set up many a new school, local trade centres and businesses, and even medical clinics by using money redirected from paying off the gangs to keep your citizens safe. Life was thriving for the first time in a decade in Monaco. You’d even found your own small peaceful spot of solace in the chaotic city, behind one of your new clinics where a collection of streetcats would assemble. You fed them dutifully, coming daily in your lunch breaks and laughing delightedly when you saw one of them had kittens. But one day when you’d been late due to a court hearing, you’d been surprised to see that the cats had already been happily munching on some freshly ground tuna meat. It was good quality too, very expensive to come by these days, your keen eye noted from being born into the luxury of a Mayor’s daughter. You smiled sweetly and fondly patted the purring cats’ ears. Someone else found you too adorable to resist too, hmm?

From then on, whenever you’d come feed the cats, you’d always look around curiously, wanting to see if you could find that person - but you never did. And then, one day, you stumbled across an impossibly cute scene of a tall blond man, clearly broad shouldered and muscular even though he was casually dressed in a hoodie and jeans. He was warmly laughing as he held one of the cats in his arms while another yowled at his legs, wanting to also be picked up. Oh! You clapped your red manicured hands excitedly as you ran over, all sense of stranger danger forgotten as canoodling with streetcats wasn’t really a common mafia thug activity. The man’s head had slightly tilted towards you as soon as you had appeared on the other end of the street, but he turned to greet you fully as the sound of your dainty Chanel heels clicks against the pavement. You’d energetically started talking about how nice it was to finally meet whoever had been spoiling the cats, wasn’t it so cute how there were even kittens now? But when you finally drew your eyes away from the purring feline in his thick arms, you couldn’t help but blush at the curious blue-eyed gaze on his handsome face.

You introduced yourself, apologising for being rude, and after setting down the cat, he took your small hand in his own much larger, warm palm. You flushed again as he raised it to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss in a very traditional Monaco fashion, introducing himself as Emilian. You formed a quick friendship with him, eager to talk to someone your age after spending so much time with stuffy politicians all day. You find yourself excited to run into the gorgeous blonde on your lunch breaks, to laugh about some of the playfights you’d witnessed between the cats, or other times talk passionately about the current state of government affairs. Emilian, like many of the jaded younger generation, held a strong disdain for your father’s office and its weak position towards protecting citizens. In a somber moment you’d both realised you’d lost your mothers to the hands of the Sainz familia. But you passionately argued for your cause, remaining fiercely loyal to the goverment office of Monaco, spending your lunch hour easily talking about the many legal and restructuring plans you’d been working with the council to establish that had already improved so many household’s livelihoods. Emilian couldn’t help but quirk his attractive lips as he leaned a head on his palm, content to watch you animatedly talk for hours. The two of you sat across the waterfront, enjoying a late afternoon danish pasty in the lazy Monaco sun. When you’d turned the conversation to him, curiously asking what exactly he did, he dismissed it as per usual, vaguely mentioning something about working in the security business.

You eyed him suspiciously, imagining that like many young men in the area he’d turned to dabbling in underground business to support his family. It always started as selling the occasional party drug for profit or working as hired muscle for a night, sure, but you’d seen innocents with good hearts get sucked into the murderous world of gang violence too often. You definitely weren't just going to sit by and let someone as gentle and sweet as Emilian fall prey to it - the man had 3 separate albums on his phone dedicated to the stray cats, for God's sake! You told him this earnestly, even gently brushing your hand across his as you offered him a job as a bodyguard instead. Your father had been making more public appearances lately as the public perception grew positive of the Mayor’s office.

Emilian had hummed, contemplating, his gorgeous blue eyes glancing at where your small palm had grasped onto his much larger one. Then he’d reached across the cafe table to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, making a pretty blush spread across your caramel sun-kissed skin. So cute, he’d said, his lips quirking into a gentle smile. You promptly forgot all about what you’d been trying to convince him on as your eyes drifted down to his lips instead, the rising fluttering of romantic feelings swirling in your stomach. He’d gotten a phone call then and sighed, telling you he’d see you later, leaving after another kiss to your fingers. You’d pouted, feeling like you were crushing a lot harder on the handsome blonde than he was on you.

Next time when you met him, though, the only feeling you had was panic and fear as you saw him slumped against your stray cat’s alleyway, blood quickly oozing from a stab wound to his abdomen. You’d forced yourself to hold back a scream and avoid attracting attention in the quickly darkening evening, grabbing a hold of Emilian’s soft jumper and tugging him with you to your clinic. He’d held firm, far stronger than you even with a goddamn knife wound that was bleeding so much, oh my god-

He told you to leave, because whoever had done this was likely still in the vicinity, would see you two walking into the clinic and then would target you too. You hissed at him that he was crazy if he thought you would ever abandon him like that and if that’s what he was worried about you’d take the back alley route to your downtown apartment then! He’d finally given in, now looking paler from the blood loss and making you internally freak out. As you guided him into your cute 2nd floor apartment, all warm lighting and trailing pot plants, he smirked and murmured that if this was all it took to get you to invite him back to your place, he’d have gotten stabbed a lot sooner.

Shut up, you’d blushed, setting him down on your bathroom floor and grabbing your extensive first aid kit. Secretly though, you were glad that he still felt well enough to make jokes like that. You miss how his ice blue eyes intently watch you compress his wound, relieved that it hadn’t gone too deep into his body to injure his organs, and biting your lip with concentration as you slowly stitched the wound. Later, when you’d been nursing a glass of whiskey to settle your nerves, your many lamps casting a glow across your face, you’d answered his questions about how you learnt to fix an injury. You told him about how powerless you’d felt when you’d seen your mother be stabbed to death in front of you, how your child sized hands couldn’t stop the bleeding and you had never wanted to feel so useless ever again.

You hadn’t realized your mind had wandered back to that memory, triggered by Emilian’s own blood that you’d scrubbed thrice over from your own hands tonight. When you felt his warm hand run across your clenched ones, soothing the tension, your for eyes focused back to look at his contemplative gaze. You’d never thought you’d see the handsome man sitting in your apartment like this, now shirtless as you’d thrown his bloodied one away. You averted your gaze, suddenly feeling shy despite the desire coursing through you, secretly glad he had declined your offer of your pink pastel knit to cover up with so you could enjoy the view of his broad, muscled shoulders.

Tilting your head back up to look at him, Emilian murmured that he was indebted to you, that you would always be under his protection. His words send a flutter through your heart, although frankly you're not sure how he was meant to protect you when you were the one with access to security resources as the Mayor's daughter. But still, his words have an undertone of assured confidence to them and you find your eyes drifted down to his lips again. You're ecstatic when he breaks the tension and finally leans in, giving you what you'd been wanting for a few weeks now as he captures your lips in a passionate kiss. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and soon you're sweetly moaning into his mouth and grinding onto his skilled, thick fingers that have slipped into your jeans and pulled your panties to the side. He brings you to bliss within minutes, and you can't resist pressing yourself closer to him as you come down from your high. You want to make him feel good, too, but your hands accidentally brush against his stab wound and you don't miss his low, painful hiss. Pulling back immediately, you apologise profusely, worriedly looking over his bandages again to make sure there was no bleeding. He chuckles, telling you he was fine, you were very welcome to continue?

Flushing, you told him that you'd had a slip in judgement and were not going to put his already hurt body through any more accidental pain tonight. He pouted rather cutely as you stood up, grabbing some spare blankets and pillows for him to stay on the couch. Not having your hands on him was far more painful than the stab wound, he says teasingly, making you blush. You felt a little embarrassed at how quickly things had progressed tonight, unable to keep your head on straight around the handsome tall Blonde in front of you. You give him a firm goodnight, but just before you enter your bedroom, you turn to shyly tell him that you’d like to return the favour and make him feel good when he had healed. Grinning at your cute, blushing face, Emilian’s ocean look eyes look at you fondly as he lowly murmurs that he’ll look forward to it, shcatje.

That night you dream about handsome men in mysterious alleyways, who pin you to the wall and pepper your neck with soft kisses that turn hungrier and hungrier. You’re gasping and asking for more, please, please as his strong hands roughly palm your ass, your tits-

You wake with a start in your now empty apartment, Emilian’s name on your lips. Late morning light floods through your windows as you curiously notice the empty sofa, where a blanket is neatly folded up. Your face brightens when you see a note, that reads sorry I left without a goodbye kiss, schatje, the cats were getting possessive.

Rolling your eyes at his usual mysterious antics, you toss his note into the bin. But you’re humming as you went about your morning routine, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing the attractive blonde later on. But oddly, Emilian hasn’t been in your usual spot that afternoon, and you look around with concern as the cats meow at your feet, wanting to be fed. When he isn’t there the next day either, or the day after, you’ve started to get very worried now, wondering if something had gone wrong with his wound or worse - the man who had stabbed him had decided to retaliate with more gang members this time. You’d been thinking about it so much that you decide to the police station that day and asking the chief to look for the Dutchman who's found his way into your heart.

It turns out that Emilian’s safety was not something you needed to be concerned with. Because the one who has been in danger was not the mysterious blonde, but instead you, who had unknowingly caught the attention of many mafioso in the area by protecting him. You realised this when you came home from your visit to the police station, only to find your front door unlocked. You'd barely taken a step inside when you’re pushed against the wall by a heavily pierced man you’d never see before. The mocking silver pendant that he wore around his neck, of a horse rearing, signified his alliance with the LeClerc familia. You’d been unable to control the tears running down your face when he'd painfully begun choking you, demanding to know where the hell Max was. When you’d tried to tell them you had no clue what he was referring to, he just tightened his harsh grip on you to slam you against the wall again. You cry out in pain, bruises already forming along your delicate hands from the intruder's grip, as you keep trying to plead and explain you didn't know who they were talking about. A part of you knew there must be some link between this Max they were looking for, and your Emilian - but you sure as hell were not going to tell these criminals a single thing.

You swallow your fear and try to bargain with them, offering money, access to shipping resources, security - all things you could provide in your role as the mayor's daughter, you insisted. But they laughed it off, confusing you when they said currently, you were the most sought after bargaining chip for the gangs in Southern Europe. And everything had faded to black then, after one of them pressed an acidic smelling cloth over your nose.

When you woke up, hours later and with a pounding head, you're in an unfamiliar room. You groggily sit up, and find yourself instantly alarmed by the thick ropes tied tightly around your wrists. At least they hadn't tied your legs, too, you think with relief, sitting up in the dark room - only to come eye to eye with the barrel of a gun. Ah, that explained it - apparently they thought you were such a precious commodity they'd assigned someone to literally guard you with a gun. You're still confused, unsure why suddenly these street criminals seem interested in kidnapping the Mayor's daughter. Everyone knew who really held the power in Monaco - the Verstappen familia.

You get your answer then, when the sound of gunshots start filling the air from outside your room. You look up in alarm, and your guard eyes the door warily. He growls at you to not to move an inch as he leaves to go investigate, closing the door behind him. You flinch as more and more gunshots fill the air, accompanied by screams and yells. And then, when it becomes eerily silent for minutes on end, you wonder if this is your chance to escape amidst whatever chaos was going on. You're nervously peering around the hallways, finding yourself in a creepy, abandoned looking mansion - somewhere probably on the outskirts of the Monaco township, if you had to guess. Moonlight is the only thing lighting the way as you try to quietly navigate your way out of the winding hallways. It's strange, there had been so any gunshots but you had yet to see a single person anywhere-

And that's where you saw it, around the next corner. Scattered haphazardly throughout the hallway, illuminated by moonlight shining through the large window, lay body after body, all freshly dead with expressions of terror still on their faces. And then, soft murmurs from the opposite end of the hallways, as three men rounded it - and you finally find your missing Dutchman. Emilian? You whisper breathlessly, half reassured to find him alive and half confused at what he was doing inside a property that clearly belonged to the LeClercs. He stops abruptly, halting the two men behind him as he stares at you with a look of pure relief. He was dressed so differently to his usual casual attire, too, with his blond locks slicked back, wearing a fitted white shirt and dress pants, and an expensive looking black overcoat that highlighted his tall, broad frame. You'd looked puzzled at the large watch on his wrist - a renowned luxury brand you recognised from the many elite charity galas you'd attended. Well out of the yearly income someone like Emilian would make in...what had he said? Security?

You're so perplexed at the sudden appearance of the half a million Euro worth watch that you don't even notice the sleek gun in his hand, until he's raising it up and pointing it straight at you. Don't move, schatje, he murmurs, his deep voice carrying across the hallway. And those ocean blue eyes of his that you'd fallen in love with were now ice cold, without a trace of any human emotion behind them. Your own doe eyes widen in fear, tears gathering, because you have no idea who the man standing in front of you is, just who you’d fallen in love with - and now he's going to kill you. You don't even get time to flinch when he's pulling the trigger. But to your surprise the bullet never hits you. Instead, you hear a thump behind you - and turn to see a body fall to the ground, his own gun that had been raised towards you clattering across the floor.

You'd stood frozen in fear, silently shaking and willing yourself not to pass out from the sheer amount of blood that pooled onto the floor, staining your pretty white Chanel heels. And then a tall figure is at your side, guiding you away from the horrifying sight with a large palm in the small of your back. His warm hands making quick work of the ropes that still bind your hands. His familiar voice is murmuring to you gently that you he was here, you’re safe now, schat and no one was going to hurt you again. You’re finally pulled out of your frozen shock when you feel his touch. You look down at large palms softly rubbing the red marks on your skin from where the rope had dug into your skin.

You're outside now, standing in the moonlit gravel in front of the eerie mansion, with an equally haunted looking garden around you. The chill of the night time air helps you start clarifying your racing thoughts. I don’t think Emilian is your real name, you begin. And for a casual security hire to wear a Patek Philippe watch...who are you, really? You finally ask, your voice surprisingly firm despite fear coursing through your veins. He sighs, draping his thick black overcoat over your shaking figure, the clothing completely dwarfing you.

You’re a very smart woman, liefje, he murmurs lowly, his intense gaze studying your face. He tells you that he's sure you've probably already figured it out by now. Releasing a deep breath, you recount his Dutch origins, clear as day in his deep accented voice and blonde locks, and the fact that he obviously had an established presence in one of the mafioso gangs. Most likely the Verstappen familia, then. He was high up enough to have command of his own group of men, the ones you now spotted through various windows, no doubt cleaning up the piles of dead bodies in the house. He watches you with a small grin on his face, enjoying how even if this frightening situation you were able to gather evidence and form a logical conclusion. And when you told him your theory - that he was not Emilian but Nicolas Hulkenberg, left hand man to Jos Verstappen, he chuckled, telling you almost fondly that you were so close. He was in the Verstappen family, and he was high up in the chain of command - but Nico's my cousin. He'd probably have a hissy fit at being confused with me, the handsome blonde in front of you mused. The new information sends a jolt through you, because even though your knowledge of the gangs is not extensive, if this man was Nicolas Hulkenberg's cousin, then...

Max Verstappen. Your breathless voice gives away the fear rising within you as your doe eyes widen in shock. You instinctively take a step back as the infamous underboss of the Verstappen familia takes a step closer to you, tilting his head like a lion eyeing up his prey, looking very much like the Dutch Leeuw he’s famously named for. Max Emilian Verstappen, he corrects, saying that most people didn't know the middle name - making it a useful nickname in public.

It's certainly more discreet than Mad Max, you reply hotly, rage and betrayal now replacing your earlier fear as you realise just how deceived you'd been. The man standing in front of you was no innocent citizen, or anyone to be protected. No - he was set to inherit the richest and most powerful gang family in the continent. Max's ice blue eyes narrow at your hurt expression, at the tears that are now running down your cheeks as you tell him what as absolute psychopath he was, to use and manipulate you into helping him, just because - you gasp, sobbing uncontrollably now - just because I'm the mayor's daughter? And you wanted to know about my redevelopment plans!? Max's heart aches at seeing you so upset, and he softly tells you it wasn't meant to be like this, you weren't meant to find out so unexpectedly. All of the heated looks and sweet words he’d spoken to you were real, because he’d fallen in love with you, too. But those Leclerc bastards had gotten their hands on you, wanting a bargaining chip and thinking you were something disposable to be used and tied up - A dark expression has taken over Max’s face now, storm clouds in his steely eyes. He'd let your captors off far too easily, he says menacingly. A shiver runs through you as you remember that the man standing in front of you had earned his title not just through family blood, but with his status of a deadly hitman with the highest kill rate this side of the globe.

Well, never mind, he drawls nonchalantly, his observant gaze not missing the fear in your sweet doe eyes that you tried desperately to supress. He was sure the Leclercs had gotten the message that you were not someone they could touch so casually. You were under Max’s personal protection, after all - he was indebted to you. Like he predicted, your Monegasque pride didn't take the offer from your political enemy kindly. You tell him to fuck off, Verstappen, you didn’t need his protections and he could just stay the hell away. He laughs at the fire in your brown eyes that’s returned in full force, glad you no longer had the lost, glassy stare he’d found you with earlier. Refusing to let him drive you home, you demand he hand over the keys to that S Class Mercedes parked in the driveway that you assumed was his, given the outrageous price tags and the bulletproof glass. He presents them to you with a smirk, watching you take off after shooting him a furious expression over your shoulder.

Of course, he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight ever again, not after you’d been hurt. You didn’t know about the guards he had assigned to you at all times, but you did receive a package a few days later. Unboxing the black and white designer wrapping, you tried to remember if you’d ordered something and forgotten about it. But when you see the identical Chanel heels you’d been wearing the night everything had happened, a new pair to replace your old, blood stained ones, you knew exactly who had sent them to you. You shove the box to the back of your closet and scowl as you continue about your research of collating the list of charges to bring against Max Verstappen.

So now, a month later, you see him for the first time since your kidnapping. It’s in the courtroom where you confidently list our your extensive evidence condemning the Leuw of Holland - who’s intense gaze you can feel raking over your well dressed form. You’re stunned when the judge, who’s sweated through his wig and gone through 3 jugs of water from all his nervous gulping, anxiously says that he finds the accused, Max Emilian Verstappen, not guilty. You knew that the Verstappens were powerful, had connections in every place and access to unlimited money - but to buy off the judge of the Monaco Supreme Court, really, Max? Have you no integrity? You hiss at him, much to the shock of onlookers as they see the Monaco Princess go toe to toe with the son of the Verstappen Familia. Good to see you too, schatje, the Dutch Lion croons at you, enjoying the frustrated blush on your face from his sweet nickname. Can’t say I’m a fan of going to jail for offing a few bastards, no. Besides, those Leclerc goons definitely deserved it for putting their hands on my woman. You gasp, stammering out your response as he catches you off guard. You were not his woman, and he had no right to call you that-

Sure, whatever you say, schat. He’d given you enough space - over a month, and he missed having you by his side every day. You’d gotten your revenge with this whole dramatic court case - one that he would never have allowed anyone to go so far with, slitting their carotids well before any court date was set. Now, it was time for Max to have his fun with you again, and this time he doesn’t have to hide behind the mystery facade. Wear that pretty little pink nightdress you wore for me that time I stayed over, hmm?

You flush prettily again, giving him a venomous glare before storming off. Cute, he thinks as your heels click on the marble floor. He admires the view of your lush ass in the tight pencil skirt you wore. He’s thinking about what colour lingerie he should have sent to you to match the heels you’d worn today, all dressed up for him - when the Mayor of Monaco approaches him. Your father looks very suspicious as he shuffled from side to side, asking Max if he would like to join him for a drink that evening.

Max watches him stoically, agreeing to a meeting only out of respect for him as your father. Otherwise, he wouldn’t care less about the puppet leader of Monaco. Everyone knew who the real power lay with, after all. So he isn't surprised when the pathetic excuse of the man who calls himself your father offers you up as a trade in exchange for the return of some of the power the Verstappens have stolen. Your father had heard the rumours of how infatuated the Verstappen heir had become with the Princess of Monaco - and was happy to just hand you over. A political marriage, of course, so that your father was guaranteed to have a familial link into the powerful new family. And if Max was no longer interested in you, then your father was sure there would be no shortage of buyers in the Leclerc and Sainz families who had become aware of the new princessa thrown into their game.

Max narrowed his ice blue eyes at the pitiful father figure in front of him, his attention finally caught with this new threat to your safety. And from your only living family member, no less - the one who you'd painstakingly resurrected from political ruin. God, the Mayor of Monaco was almost as bad as Jos. But then again, Jos had never pretended to be something he was not. Your father, on the other hand, was someone who you loved and cherished dearly. It would break your heart to see him hurt - even though he was now trying to sell you off to become a mafia bosses's wife without your knowledge.

Good thing your daughter got her fire from her mother, the Verstappen heir says coldly, his voice commanding enough that it makes the Mayor gulp nervously. Since her father clearly has no balls. Max doesn't respond well to threats - he much prefers making them, instead. And although he wanted to do nothing more than leave a bullet inside the Mayor's chest, he wouldn't touch your father out of respect for you.

So instead, when he gets word that evening of another secret hit out for you, he takes this as the oppurtunity to take you under his protection - permanently. He wouldn't allow your father to marry you off to one of the many ruthless mafiosos in the region. This time, the abduction attempt comes from the once powerful Hamilton-Rosberg family who were trying to restablish their hold after Max Verstappen himself had tobbled them from the inside. You'd impressed Max by fending off the first few attackers with the handgun you now kept at your bedside, injuring them but avoiding any critical areas as you ran out your fire escape. Good girl, Max thought with pride as his men relayed the situation to him over the phone. But you'd not expected the attackers waiting for you at the end of back alleyway. You were out of bullets, and closed your eyes in resignation as you prepared for what you were sure would be a nasty end...

When that infuriatingly attractive, confident Dutch voice appears at your side. Missed me, schatje? Max Verstappen makes quick work of the men who dared to attempt laying a hand on you. This time he rips one of their heart out, rather gruesomely, before shoving it inside the dead man's mouth. A very clear warning to all others who went after you again - since apparently the massacre at the Leclerc mansion had not been enough.

You're snifling and shaking when Max returns to your side, your back firmly to him to avoid seeing the horrific sight. And when he sighs softly again, draping his familiar, warm coat over our shoulders, you ask him if he was here to kill you, too. You'd realised that many of Max's enemy gangs had started to come after you, hoping to use your connection to the Verstappen heir against him. Of course, for a man as coldly efficient and powerful as Max - it made sense to eliminate any source of weakness to his status. But the enemy Dutch Lion you'd somehow fallen for suprises you once again. Brushing a stray curl behind your ear, and wiping away the tears now gathering in the corner of your wide eyes, Max gently murmurs No, schatje. He was going to marry you.

Shock courses through you, as you gasp at his unexpected confession. But then everything is going blurry, and the last thing you remember is his ocean blue eyes, looking into yours with their familiar warmth and intensity. The next time you wake up, you're in Max's private jet, somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea. You’re panicked, trying to angrily demand that he take you back, but whatever drugs he’d had given to you make your efforts futile. You’re slumping tiredly against his broad shoulders after a few minutes, his strong arms around you, falling into a deep sleep as he murmurs reassurances that he was doing this for your own protection.

And when you wake up again, he’s made sure that it’s goddamn near impossible for you to run away. Because he has you on a godforsaken large private island of the Sicilian Coast, a beautiful place surrounded by turquoise beaches and dotted with ancient temple ruins mixed in amongst trendy Italian boutiques. It’s the sort of place you would normally be enraptured by - but in the week you’ve been here you’ve been plotting escape attempt after attempt.

Of course, you’d argued with Max every night when he returned from whatever shady business he’d conducted during the day, taking his private plane. You put your law degree to good use with the heated debates over the dinner table as he watched you with an adoring grin, finding your ever present energy and passion captivating. It had made you flush and look away from his gorgeous eyes. You stabbed into the deliciously flavoured lobster pasta in front of you, hating how your stomach did backflips when Max looked at you in this way. Your heart and brain felt like they were at odds with one other constantly, torn between the gentle, cat loving Emilian you’d fallen in love with and this protective, commanding Max who you couldn’t deny your growing desire for. Confidence greatly suited the Dutch Leuw, who now came back to the mansion he kept you in dressed in a black suits and wristwatches that was no doubt worth the combined income of a middle class family. But at dinner, with just the two of you over the flickering candlelight each night, enjoying the Italian summer air, he’d be in those cozy soft tees and loose linen shirts you’d always liked because of how they showed off his broad arms. Meanwhile, you pointedly only wear the plainest and drab outfits you could find in the luxurious walk in closet you’d been given. You’d gotten shocked as you opened each drawer in the room, finding it filled to the brim with designer clothes and luxury bags and heels, all in your favourite brand and colours and with matching jewellery in gold - as if it had been curated specifically for your tastes. At least he had the decency to give you private living quarters, you supposed. One night over fresh seafood paella he teasingly asked if you didn’t like all the clothes he’d had ordered for you, schat, because he can have more delivered? You scathingly tell him to stop being such a stalker, did he even know how creepy it was to find all your favourite items in that closet when you’d never even told him about them?

Blue eyes darken at your bratty note, but you aren’t nervous of Max anymore - even through the Leuw of Holland had been notorious for terrorizing your hometown streets. You’d realised that for some reason or the other, you were more precious to him than you’d ever imagined. It made you hesitate and wonder if maybe there was some truth to the romantic feelings he’d confessed to having for you, the night of the Leclerc mansion bloodbath. Forgive me for wanting you to feel comfortable here, schatje Max responded coolly, drinking from his whiskey glass. You argue back that a girl couldn’t possibly feel comfortable if she was kidnapped and help captive by a man who had technically led to her family’s ruin. And if you expect me to get dressed up for you, so that you can have your way with me…you can forget it! You retort angrily, face flushing.

Now smirking into his palm, Max assures you that despite his reputation, he promises to be the perfect gentleman. He’d never lay a hand on you…not unless you begged him too, first. His cocky tone made it clear he thought you found him impossible to resist. The playful look in his gorgeous blue eyes makes you bite your plush lips as you remember the last time Max had placed his large palm on your very willing body in an intimate way. After all, you'd sounded so sweet when you kept moaning for more when you came on my fingers within minutes, remember schat? The blonde teases you, clearly also thinking back to the same night you were. Standing up abruptly, you hotly retort with a Last time, I'd also been asking for Emilian, not Max Verstappen, before dramatically flipping your thick curls and storming off. The Dutch Lion watches you go with an amused chuckle, once again enjoying the view of your curvy ass even despite the horrid pants you were wearing. Same man, schat! he calls out to your retreating back, to which you respond with a well mannered middle finger in the air.

Your game continues like this over the month. As the days pass, you start to become more relaxed with Max. You still get flashes of the cold eyed Mafioso heir when you catch him on the phone angrily discussing a business deal, or when you spot a fleck of red on his pristine white designer shirts when he returns from being out. But your heart gets confused when you also see the gentle and caring Emilian when he's with you, who chooses to make your favourite breakfast every morning despite the full staffing in his mansion, who feeds and walks the dogs he has running around his gardens and plays with the snarky housecats. And when you'd woken up in the middle of the night crying in terror from the memory of seeing all those bloodied dead men in the Leclerc mansion, Max had been the one to hear your cries and storm into your bedroom. He'd taken you into his broad, warm arms, and you'd buried your sobs in his neck as he murmured reassurances of how you were safe now, you had nothing to ever worry about with him at your side. When you'd woken up the next morning, finding Max's toned chest underneath your cheek from where you'd both fallen asleep in your bed, a bit of your drool on his shirt, your heart swirled with conflicting emotions. You hated how safe and protected you feel in his embrace, knowing that this domestic bliss lifestyle with one of the most handsome and richest men you've ever met was something he'd kidnapped you for.

Still though, as you get more comfortable, you negotiate for more freedom with Max. You're an excellent lawyer, and now that you were temporarily out of your political position, you were going crazy sitting inside the mansion or walking it's beautiful gardens everyday. Max hadn't allowed you to go anywhere else without him at your side, his intense gaze eyeing any potential threat that approached the pair of you. Not that anyone did - the aura the Dutch Lion radiates was so powerful you kept wondering just how you'd thought he was some soft-spoken young citizen needing your help and guidance. So when Max reluctantly agrees to let you go outside without him - it's with the rule of 5 trained bodyguards at all times, of course. You roll your eyes but let them trail behind you as you terrorise the multiple designer stores dotted on the large island with Max's black Amex. It was the least he could do considering he had basically abducted you, you think with a smirk, as you watch the total at just the jewellery store alone add up to over half a million Euro. The Verstappen security guards nervously sweat behind you.

However, their boss has no such qualms. Max lets you spend his money however you wanted, thinking you were finally starting to accept his offer of marriage and coming under his permanent protection. So you surprised him a few weeks later when you finally made an escape attempt. The island was actually much bigger than you'd initially thought, and you found there was a small population of a few thousand elite, rich Italians living on the other side. That's where you headed too that afternoon, having picked a day where Max was away on business. You escaped the watchful eye of your bodyguards and ran towards the first policeman you saw. Confessing that you'd been kidnapped, and you needed help urgently to get back to Monaco where your father was Mayor, you'd been relieved when they guided you into their policecar with concerned looks. You thought they were going to help get you on a plane back to your hometown - but to your shock they drive you back the Verstappen mansion. With a sinking feeling you realised that the influence your captor had went beyond anything you could have thought possible.

You had barely managed to get away for an hour - in fact, Max hadn't even landed back in the island yet. When he did arrive that evening, having been told by his men of what you'd attempted that day, he strides into his private living room to find you. He dismissed everyone standing guard, and for the first time since you'd come here you note that he actually looked annoyed with you. You shuffle your hips nervously, from where you're seated on the low chaise. To your embarrassment, the policemen had even put a pair of handcuffs on you that Max's guards hadn't bothered removing, and they clink noisily in your lap. The handsome blonde towers above your seated figure, tilting your face up with his firm hand as he glowers at you. He's angry, and he lets you know it, telling you how stupid it was of you to compromise your safety like this, did you even know how hard it had been for him to find out when he'd been 3 hours away by plane and couldn't protect you!? Logically, you know that you should feel terrified of having pissed off a cold hearted man like Max Verstappen. But you're tuning his words out, instead biting your bottom lip at seeing him get so passionate over you. You couldn't deny that despite everything, the man in front of you was so attractive with his muscular, tall build and gorgeous light features - just your type, and the object of many a dirty fantasy in the last few months. Even after you'd found out his true identity as a Verstappen - not that you'd ever admit it to him.

But of course, Max's keenly observant gaze doesn't miss a thing. He sees it all - the way you press your thighs together, the delicious thickness easy for him to enjoy with the ridiculously overpriced Prada miniskirt you're wearing. So tiny that at this angle, with his much taller height, he catches a glimpse of your white lace panties - which are soaked straight through to reveal your dripping pussy. He smirks, knowing there was a far more effective way to punish you now. He gets his confirmation when he leans down to huskily murmur in your ear how much of a bad girl you'd been, how he clearly needs to teach you a lesson, thoroughly, so you don't disobey him again. You blush prettily, tits heaving with the gasp you let out as your eyes become dazed thinking about finally letting Max have his way with you, giving up all control and letting him take over, would feel like - after months of agonising tension.

He has you right where he wants, and he doesn't let you forget his promise. Not until you're begging me to touch you, remember liefje? he whispers darkly, his lips barely brushing your forehead as he leaves you pouting in frustration to go take a shower. He'd figured you'd angrily brood over his teasing for a few days, but when he emerges from the bathroom, he finds you sitting on his bed. Max looks especially mouth watering in grey sweats and dripping wet, tousled blonde locks and his broad, muscular chest. Rubbing your plush thighs together again, you hold up your handcuffs, innocently telling him you were only here to get free, nothing else, of course! The raw strength he uses to break the cuffs open with just his large hands has you holding back a breathless whine. God, this man was so insanely attractive, and you weren't going to be able to resist him much longer.

That's why you play back at this teasing game, making sure he's watching you with narrowed blue eyes and crossed arms, biceps swollen, as you strut through the shared door to your own bedroom. You leave the door wide open as you rustle through one of the many overflowing drawers - picking out a sheer La Perla pink nightie with matching lace panties. And when you nonchalantly hum as you make your way back to his rooms, shutting the lights off and leaving the warm bedside lamps on, you slip into his inviting comforter. He watches your whole show with a clenched jaw and unamused expression, telling you that you were playing with fire, schat.

You bat your thick eyelashes at him innocently, tossing your dark curls over your shoulder as you deny any mischief. Just in case I get any nightmares, of course! He doesn't buy it for a second, but still reluctantly slides in next to you. You remain on your best behaviour, reading a novel you'd picked out and ignoring Max, who was trying his best to ignore the skimpy outfit he knew you had underneath the covers and focus on the budgeting spreadsheet open on his laptop. After all, mafia gangs still had to keep track of their finances.

And then, just when he lets his guard down for a second and is typing away, you begin your revenge. Your book is tossed to the side and your manicured hands are running over your sensitive body, squeezing your juicy tits and rubbing your aching cunt through the sheer lace. The Leuw of Holland is left powerless for the first time in his adult life as the covers fall away, exposing your tempting caramel skin, contrasting with the pretty pink lingerie he’d bought for you. Your brown doe eyes are half lidded with desire as you watch him swallow at the tempting display in front of him, his hungry eyes honing in on the way you played with yourself. When he asks you what the fuck you were doing, his voice low and deep, you tease him more by saying he'd never said anything about you not being able to touch yourself, right? Maybe you’d let him touch you, too, if he was the one begging-

He growls like a literal lion, then, making you giggle as he watches you with a desperate look in his eyes that’s making you even more turned on. He gives up when you slip the sheer fabric down over your tits, showcasing your pretty tanned nipples that pebbled in the night air. Liefje, he groans, pressing his lips to your thick curls and his large hand to a rapidly hardening erection, please let me touch you, let me take care of you…

His husky voice sends shivers down your already warm skin, and you can’t deny your need for him any longer either. Wrapping a delicate hand around his much bigger wrist, you slowly guide him over your body, making his intense gaze go dark with desire. You brush his thick fingers over your pink lips, where you teasingly flick your tongue out and make him groan, then down across your neck so he can admire how pretty you look with his hand as a choker, then over your bouncing tits as you breathe deeply. He can’t resist pinching a cute nipple, this time making you moan, but it’s still not where you need him most. And then you’re guiding him over your soft tummy, over your plush hips, and then-

Oh, fuck schatje. Max's intoxicating, accented voice moans into your ear, making you drip even more for him. You’re so wet for me, this sweet pussy needs me to take care of it so badly, hmmm? You whine breathlessly, nodding impatiently as his long fingers brush against your swollen cunny. You’re dripping through your skimpy panties, which are practically stuck to you now. The attractive blonde next to you has no inhibitions about manhandling you easily, ripping the scraps of lace off and tossing the ruined hundreds of Euros to the side. Bringing your slick cunt to his lips, he licks them attractively as he stares up at your blushing face with hungry eyes. You stammer nervously, never having been eaten out before, but he couldn’t care less. He dips his skilled tongue into your soaked pussy, inhaling in your addictive sweet scent as you gasp and moan. His strong hands lock your rocking hips in position as he fucks you with his broad tongue, lapping up the sweet juices your cunny gushes out for him. You’re in tears from how amazing it feels, especially when he buries his large nose or a thick finger knuckle deep, and soon you’re intertwining your pink nails in his blonde locks as he once again makes you scream in name in pure pleasure. This time though, he’s much more satisfied because you’re desperately moaning his real name. Oh, Max! Please!

Days later, when you and him have formed a legal agreement of sorts, where you accept his protection against the ongoing threat of rival gangs and he agrees to let you resume your legal career, you fly back to Monaco with him at your side. He slid a hefty diamond engagement ring onto your finger, and you’re still shocked by how pretty it looks, glimmering in the light. Still, it was only temporary, you had no plans to actually marry the man. A union between the Princess of Monaco and the all consuming Verstappen Mafia heir who’d been responsible for stripping her city of its livelihood was a cursed match!

So when you excitedly run straight to your father’s home when you land, the Verstappen bodyguards in tow as per their boss’s instructions. You fling the doors open, shouting for your papa. The mayor of Monaco looks up in shock, thrown back a bit when you jump into his arms and tell him you missed him dearly, had he been keeping safe? He’d delighted you are safe of course, and tells you so numerous times over dinner, and then later when you two are poring over the city redevelopment plans. You’d been away for over two months now, and a lot had to be caught up with in your absence.

But when he continues that really, when he’d made the offer to Max he’d half expected to never see you again - after all, the Dutch Leuw of Holland was known to be ruthless. When you freeze, papers falling from your hand as you look at him in shock, he realises that your fiancée had never actually disclosed to you the circumstances under which he’d decided to make you his wife.

This whole time I thought he’d kidnapped me, like a madman…but really he was protecting me from you, wasn’t he? Because you were ready to sell your daughter off to whatever man would be the highest bidder? None of the pathetic excuses that come out of your father's mouth are enough to fix the trust that had been broken. Your heart had broken that night, and you’d left your family home and vowed to never look back, tears running down your face. Max had taken one look at you and taken you into his comforting arms, shushing your cries and murmuring that you were not alone, he was your family now, his home was now yours as well. Or rather, multiple properties, it might be more appropriate to say.

This time, you willingly return to the darkness, and you accept his offer of marriage, of protection, and of partnership, and he takes yours delicate hand in his when you walk down the aisle in a beautiful cream gown that same month. Like your now husband had noted when he'd first met you, you were a smart woman, the perfect wife to the likes of the heir to the Verstappen mafia. You understood that if the reigning government council couldn't resist the criminal takeover, it would be better to join them instead. But not with the pathetic bribing the Mayor had done, comprising his citizen's safety and then his own daughter's.

No, your style was far more ambitious than his. You'd gotten your fire from your mother, after all. So when the Princessa of Monaco married the powerful Verstappen heir, your citizens hadn't known what to expect, rumours flying of the whole thing being a forced arrangement. But when you and Max have eliminated both your fathers out of the way and claimed the city of Monaco for yourselves, you're quick to resume it's political redevelopment and advances in healthcare and education whilst running the largest drug smuggling ring in Europe in the underground canals. You had to get the funding from somewhere, and driving neighbouring gang's businesses into the ground to support your own local one seems a good a cause as any. This time, under your partnership, it's done in a much safer way for your citizens, and you firmly believe the means justify the ends.

And time passes in the now flourishing city. The handsome Dutch Leeuw is often seen out for lunch by the beach, laughing with his beautiful new wife in his arms. The power couple of Monaco, your citizens say, admiring your union of the darkness and the light.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: WHEWWWW this was a long one my dearest readers I am so sorry for the wait life has been crazy!! was a bit overwhelmed with work but max winning the sprint was enough to revive me thank you for waiting! lmk what you think! dark max simps do not worry I have many garbage pieces coming your way hehe

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #18+ mdni #mafia au #max verstappen x oc

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therealmylesmorales · 5 months ago

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Dating Loser!Vi Headcannons

A lot of this was thought about with the homie @ficsonpost-its, kind of a way for us to cope with the ending of Arcane 🙃

And I never cared enough to follow the plot so this is a college!au where everyone is alive and (maybe) happy

Warnings: Vi herself is kind of a warning, masc4masc couple if it matters, maybe suggestive at some parts, some parts with Jayce are inspired by “the blind leading the blind” stuff one tictok

She met you through Ekko. You were his (adoptive, biological wtfever shut up) sister and safe to say, she was borderline obsessed with you. But, she didn’t know how to approach you at first. Her very obvious crush on you was noticed by both Ekko and Jinx so they took it upon themselves to help her out.

To get some extra money, she works at her dad’s bar, The Last Drop. She’s a bouncer and whenever she’s around, people tend to behave themselves. It was a normal night until Vi saw you chatting up a storm to Vander and she immediately started to panic. But it all seemed to go on well, seeing how the night ended with your number in her pocket.

Vi can count all of the friends she has on one hand, one of them being her sister. So safe to say, when she admitted that she somehow has a girlfriend, none of them believed her. Jayce even called her a liar until she pulled up pictures.

Vi was out one day when she bought you both matching boxers. She cherishes them like it’s her most prized possession, next to you and the brass knuckles Vander gave her.

“Vi, what are these?”

”Batman boxers!”

You couldn’t help but match her wide smile. “Why Batman?”

”Cause he’s a fucking goat.”

Vi will full on body slam or suplex you, carefully, on the nearest couch or bed whenever you seem to be minding your business. The first few times caught you by surprise but now, it’s almost a daily occurrence that you look forward to.

Vi’s fashion taste is something you admire; from the ripped jeans to the cropped muscle shirts that she cut herself, you have nothing but good things to say about her clothes. However, in the comfort of her own home, she never wears a shirt. It’s even rare to find her in her sports bra while she’s lounging around.

“It’s nine in the morning, why are your tits out?”

”Are you complaining?”

”Of course not. But Jayce is coming over so he might.”

You can hear her groaning the entire time but she’ll do it.

Speaking of Jayce, it’s never a good idea to leave them alone for too long or else something would happen. Separately, they’re geniuses but together…those brain cells are nonexistent.

“Vi, it’s been fourteen hours, where the hell were you?”

”Oh, I was getting that tattoo I told you about.”

”For fourteen hours?”

”Yeah, Jayce was with me and he thought it was a good idea to get it done in one sitting. He even got something!”

Needless to say, both you, Mel and Viktor always expect something to go wrong with those two. (Have we lost the art of a good poly-ship? Jayce has two hand so just kiss and shut up)

Do not EVER call her Violet, she’ll think you are upset with her and will probably tweak out and cry. The only acceptable names to call her are Vi, obviously, or ‘Pretty Girl.’ You were only a few months into your relationship when you called her that, she spent like 5 minutes in straight silence not really sure how to react; something you did notice was that her face was as red as her hair.

Vi will also lay her complete body weight on top of you when you lay down; it's one of her favorite ways of cuddling. (For my gamer!readers) Especially if you’re playing a game, you will wrap your arms around her with the controller laying on her back. The both of you will stay there for hours.

“Motherfucker.”

”Die again, cupcake?” She muttered into your chest.

“Radahn is ass.”

A little something extra for my black!readers that love Vi 🫶🏾

Say you can’t find your bonnet. You looked all up and down the apartment, pretty much flipping it over but it was still nowhere to be found. And seeing how it was your favorite, you were a little upset that it was gone. Until Vi came out of the bathroom, said bonnet on her head, giving you a small smile, completely unaware of what she was doing.

#vi x reader #vi arcane #myles writing #c: vi

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babybearnation · 8 months ago

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old masterlist

anons: 🍑, 💙, 🐍, 🎩, 📞, 🥐, 🃏, 🦊, C, 🥡, 🐜, 🔒, 🍬, 🐨, 💘, 🥄, 💫, 🥔, くコ:彡, 🐥, ♉, 🏎🌷

the grid:

you got me feelin' butterflies, butterflies - asking you on a date

darling, you're the one i want - you wear a number that isn't theirs

your first and my last name would just sound better together - you call them by their full name

cause you make my heart race - they accidentally confess their feelings

i had the best day with you today - you surprise them with a pet

king of my heart, body and soul - they win a race

oh, dear, don't be discouraged - they find out you're crying

hey baby, welcome to my world - arthur, liam & mick's texts for the posts above

you drew stars around my scars - you're insecure about your surgery scars

you're the greatest thing we've lost - they confess after you get replaced mid season

you belong with me - they're jealous of your toxic ex

jealousy, jealousy - you get shipped with another driver & their jealous

silence finally in my head - you give them the silent treatment

you are in love, true love - you have a crush on their teammate

give me more than just some butterflies - you text them the lyrics to juno by sabrina carpenter

twenty stitches in a hospital room - you crash and don't tell them

this is the sound, it's our sound - you're a musician

so light me up and let me burn - you do a break up prank

on a wednesday in a cafe - you prank them with a fake date

come take a picture - you accidentally send them an explicit picture

you're everything i'm dreaming of - you accidentally confess to them

must be the good boy - you call them a good boy

you don't need no invitation - "he's gone, you can come over now"

i'm so sick (of lying) - you hide that you're sick

it was the very first night - you accidentally text them after a night together

cherish my love - you text them after your first date

hey baby, i think i wanna marry you - they overhear you call them your husband

when you lovingly call my name - you exchange contact names

just look at me baby, day and night - you ask them to come home and take care of you

you're wearing nothing but my t-shirt - you send them a spicy pic at an inconvenient time

runnin' home to your sweet nothings - cute, domestic texts

talk to you later, later - you call him bro after sex

but daddy, i love him - you call him daddy

so kiss me, kiss me, kiss me - you forget to kiss him before you go out

oh, i wonder who i'm looking for - "they're busy, bro"

i miss you, i'm sorry - they miss you when you're away

i've already lost control - you ask if you can take control in the bedroom

the pages of our relationship arc - you try and break up with them due to insecurities

i wanna know (what is love?) - you don't say i love you back

baby, so please, cheat on me - they pull the "i know you cheated" prank

good luck, baby, good luck to you - you don't wish them good luck before a race

am i still not good enough? - you ask them to save you from a bad date

i need ya focus on me - they accidentally send you an explicit picture

that pretty, pretty boy - you're dysphoric

uh oh, i'm falling in love - you share when you first fell for each other

money, money, money (must be funny) - your rent is ridiculously expensive

i'm coming out - you come out without telling them

i'm lying so i won't get caught - he hides that he's sick

can you see my feeling? (oopsy) - polyam!drivers accidentally message the wrong gc

i love it because i love you - he talks about you in his native language

privacy sign on the door - your relationship is about to be leaked

i want you to be happier - polyam!drivers - one of you isn't feeling the best

spice it up, up, up, roll up - drivers x genderfluid!reader

pull it to the side and get all up in it - "raw, next question"

you're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin' - you walk in on each other changing

i will give you all my love - polyam!drivers nearly/fully ruin their surprise

now i've read all of the books beside your bed - you're a bookworm

think i like you best when you're just with me - you're trying to quit smoking

act like an angel and dress like crazy - you show them your revealing outfit

alex albon:

nothing yet...

arthur leclerc:

baby, i don't wanna waste my time - your relationship isn't over already, is it?

charles leclerc:

ride on the highway to heaven - texts w/ biker reader

i love the light that i found in you - charles x reader x oscar

guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats - lestappen x reader - they argue over pets

take me out, and take me home - charles x reader x george - domestic texts

dino beganovic:

cause, oh, they make me feel alive - dino x reader x kimi x paul

george russell:

i'll give you the best years - george x reader x oscar (ft. bff!lando)

take me out, and take me home - george x reader x charles - domestic texts

zhou guanyu:

nothing yet...

kimi antonelli:

cause, oh, they make me feel alive - kimi x reader x dino x paul

i looked at you like the stars that shine - kimi x reader x ollie

you said "i'm a better driver" - kimi x f1 driver!reader x ollie

take me out, and take me home - kimi x reader x ollie - domestic texts

i feel so close to you right now - he's clingy, but you're not together

hey, cupid has shot my heart - ollie plays matchmaker

lance stroll:

boy, you got me drunk on a feeling - he accidentally drinks your drink

lando norris:

they don't know me like my baby - lando x reader x max

screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain - landoscar x reader - they argue due to papaya rules

he said "fuck me like i'm famous" - landoscar x reader - end of/post-season shenanigans

tell me what you want, tell me what you need - he's jealous (ft. max f, keegan & oscar)

liam lawson:

nothing yet...

logan sargeant:

long live the walls we crashed through - loscar x reader - you're the 2023 rookies

max verstappen:

they don't know me like my baby - max x reader x lando

guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats - lestappen x reader - they argue over pets

mick schumacher:

nothing yet...

ollie bearman:

i looked at you like the stars that shine - ollie x reader x kimi

you said "i'm a better driver" - ollie x f1 driver!reader x kimi

take me out, and take me home - ollie x reader x kimi - domestic texts

oscar piastri:

screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain - landoscar x reader - they argue due to papaya rules

i'll give you the best years - oscar x reader x george (ft. bff!lando)

i love the light that i found in you - oscar x reader x charles

driving home for christmas - you're spending christmas alone... or are you?

he said "fuck me like i'm famous" - landoscar x reader - end of/post-season shenanigans

long live the walls we crashed through - loscar x reader - you're the 2023 rookies

paul aron:

cause, oh, they make me feel alive - paul x reader x dino x kimi

seasons start to change, i've been daydreaming for days - you're oblivious to his feelings

the code is l-o-v-e - paul x reader

cause i've got a soft spot (i've got it for you) - you don't play favourites, but with paul...

pierre gasly:

nothing yet...

yuki tsunoda:

nothing yet...

formula e:

in the heat of your electric touch - it's his first formula e weekend (zm22)

miscellaneous:

three short hours (three long weeks) - you can't sleep without each other (fc43)

give you my love, mi corazón - josep maria martí x reader

#ᵔᴥᵔ navi

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blushsturns · 2 months ago

Note

I have a request!! What if reader just started to ignore Chris or Matt while shopping and they don’t like it at all and kinda punish reader? (It’s okay if not comfortable!!)

title: shopping spree

word count: 3576

warnings: this contains explicit content and portrays rough sex, but it is all consensual! dom!chris, daddy kink, slight degradation, spanking, rough sex, pet names, sex in public (kind of), unprotected p in v, pure filth.

You loved shopping. No matter what you were going shopping for, you loved walking around and looking at different things. Even if it meant your wallet (or Chris’ wallet) would be empty at the end of the day, it was usually money well spent and worth it.

Unfortunately, sometimes you get so caught up in the shopping that you tend to forget who you were with, no matter who it is. You had begged Chris to take you to the mall to look at new skirts that you saw online and couldn’t wait to have them shipped to the house, so going in person was the better deal.

You hadn’t talked to him in an hour as you aimlessly scrolled the aisles of all the pretty clothing in front of you. Chris stood far behind, his arms crossed over his chest, a slight huff escaping from the center of his chest. You were oblivious to the fact that you were straight up ignoring him. It wasn’t intentional, you just tend to get too excited about shopping and don’t realize what is actually going on around you.

So when Chris couldn’t take it anymore and led you out of the store and into the nearest bathroom, locking the door in the process, your body was jolting with anticipation for what was coming next.

You have been punished by Chris before. When you’re being stubborn, or bratty, or don’t get your way. Chris usually has you bent over his knee with your ass on full display as he spanks you, leaving your sensitive flesh reddened with his hand imprinted on your pale skin. You didn’t mind the punishments when they happened. If anything, it turned you on to see Chris in his element; in full control, dominance seeping through him like he was born for it. You fucking loved seeing his face reddened with anger, his strong grip on your throat as he fucks you into the mattress and absolutely degrading you; telling you what a filthy whore you are for him and for his cock. He wasn’t wrong, not one bit.

A soft gasp emitted from your throat at the feeling of him lifting you up onto the sink, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck as you push your body up into his. You wore the shortest skirt in your closet with your knee high stocking and your pretty top to go with it that shaped your curves and your plump tits so perfectly.

His strong grip on your waist caused a soft moan to escape your lips, but he immediately moved one of those hands from your hip to your mouth to cover it, his eyes already darkening with lust and desire. “Not one fucking sound, or word will come out of this pretty little mouth of yours, you hear me? If anyone hears us, we’ll be kicked out.”

The thrill was exhilarating and you whimpered which muffled against his hand, your body pressing up into his. You could already feel his cock hardening against the fabric of his jeans as he pressed himself into you. You were trapped behind the wall with his body pressed into you, but you didn’t mind one bit.

Your core was hot and you already felt your panties becoming drenched as you wrapped your legs around him to pull him even impossibly closer to you.

A soft growl erupted from the back of his throat and he pulled his hand away from your mouth and wrapped his fingers around your neck to give it a firm squeeze, causing your eyes to widened and a soft whimper to escape your lips. “Such a naughty girl, ignoring daddy like that. What were you thinking, hm?” His voice was filled with dominance, lust, desire. Your cunt was throbbing just by hearing him speak, but feeling his hardened cock pressing up against you and having his hand wrapped around your throat only turned you on even more. You loved this kind of thing, so much. Sometimes you even debated in your head to pretend to do something to piss him off, just so you can rile him up and see him like this, but you knew you had to be a good girl. Daddy’s good girl.

He leaned forward and presses his lips against yours with urgency, and hunger evident in his motions. He moved his hand away from your throat to your jaw to grip it firmly, immediately taking your bottom lip between his lips and sucking onto it, causing a soft gasp to emit from your lips.

A shudder ran down your spine at the feeling of his lips against yours as he began to suck and tug onto your bottom lip before he began to slide his tongue past your lips and came in contact immediately with your tongue. Your tongues fought for dominance, a groan escaped his lips and muffled through the kiss. He moved his free hand down in between the both of you where your skirt rose up from your legs being wrapped around his waist on the sink.

His hand immediately found your cunt through your lacy panties and began to circle your clit through the material with the pad of his thumb, causing a soft whine to leave your lips. “Oh..daddy.” You breathed out against his lips, pushing your hips up into his hand. You could feel your cunt growing even more drenched by the second, butterflies roaming in your tummy from his touch and the feeling of his lips now pulling away from yours to travel down to your neck.

He placed messy kisses against the base of your neck, blowing hot air against your skin before suddenly parting his lips and sucking onto your sensitive flesh hard enough to create a pretty bruise, leaving behind only the prettiest marks for a story only the two of you would share and cherish. You tilted your head to the side to grant him more access, licking over your lips in a hungry motion, a pathetic whimper leaving your lips.

Chris tugged your lacy panties to the side and immediately dipped his fingers into your soaking wet folds, his thumb circling against your swollen clit. “So fuckin’ wet already f’me aren’t you, ma? So fuckin’ hot.”

A soft moan emitted from your lips at the feeling of his fingers against your dripping wet cunt. Your slick arousal already coated his fingers as he began to slip both his middle and ring finger deep into your cunt and tilting his wrist to slide them in even deeper, your gummy walls clenching around his digits instantly.

Your eyes widened and you let out a choked moan, throwing your head back and fluttering your eyes closed, biting a little too hard onto your bottom lip to try and contain any more sounds from coming out of your mouth. You couldn’t help it, even if you were technically still in public. Chris made you feel so damn good all the time, even if you knew you still had a punishment in store.

Once he began to pump his fingers deep inside of your gummy walls, you could hear your slick arousal squelching around them. “Fuck, so fuckin’ tight. Bet this feels good to you, doesn’t it?”

You could feel his cock throbbing and twitching immensely through the fabric of his jeans against your body as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, going deeper and faster within each thrust. He pressed messy kisses to your neck, rolling his tongue along your flesh and creating love bites against your pretty skin.

A loud moan escaped your needy lips, causing the sounds to echo through the bathroom walls. Chris pulled away from your neck and immediately let out a growl, shaking his head in disbelief. “What did I tell you, ma? I told you to be quiet. Can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, causing you to whimper out at the loss of contact, immediately feeling your gummy walls clenching against nothing but emptiness.

You could practically scream in agony, already soaking wet and desperate for him to destroy you in the absolute way. He had the power over you;he could control when and if you get to cum which made it even more frustrating, but you secretly loved it. “D-daddy.” You whine out, trying to keep your legs locked around him, but he pulls your legs off him so that your feet are back on the ground, causing you to let out another whimper. “I can’t help it.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a darkened chuckle escaped his lips and immediately turned you over so that your ass was facing him, your hands now resting against the sink in front of you as you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were crimson red, your hair a mess, and you already looked completely fucked out. If Chris fucks you right here, you’ll both get a show through the mirror in front of you.

“You can’t help what?” Chris notices you’re looking through the mirror and makes eye contact with you through it, flashing you a devious smirk, cocking his eyebrow slightly. “Can’t help being a dirty little slut? Can’t help loving daddy’s fingers inside of you? Or, can’t help being a little fuckin’ brat who ignored me, damn well knowing was gonna get punished for it?”

His words were like velvet; thickened with lust and slightly angered, but also pure desire. Chris hiked your skirt up and allowed it to rest on your hips. He practically ripped your panties from off you, causing it to shred to pieces onto the floor. Even though they were one of your favorite pairs, you knew that it was worth it.

Chris lets out a satisfied groan as he stares at your beautiful ass before him, his hands immediately gripping your ass cheeks in his palms and kneading it slowly, caressing your soft skin in smooth circles and watching it jiggle and shake within his touches.

“Such a beautiful ass. What a shame she’s gonna have to learn a lesson or two.”

Before you could even try to reply, you watched through the mirror as his hand raised up and immediately came into contact with your ass cheek, smacking your ass harshly and causing you to yelp out, your fingers gripping the skin before you. “Fuck.” You groaned through clenched teeth. You loved when he smacked your ass, it only made you even more turned on.

Your pussy throbbed immensely as he continued to smack your ass several times, leaving pink tinted hand imprints behind and kneading your ass cheeks to soothe the soreness you felt already from the amount of smacks you had received against it. Your slick arousal practically dripped down your thighs with each and every smack from his hand, your fingers gripping the sink so tightly your knuckles started to tingle and turn white from the intense grip against the surface.

“Please.” You found yourself pleading out, thrusting your hips back against him impatiently. He began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, tugging them down along with his boxers. You knew you were in for a punishment, but your ass was sore, your pussy was throbbing, and you needed to be fucked, immediately.

Looking at him through the mirror while he stood behind you was such a turn on. Whenever he fucked you from behind, you always wished you could see his face and how much pleasure he genuinely gets when he’s fucking into you and grabbing onto your ass cheeks, or your hair, for dear life. “Please what, ma? You’re gonna have to beg f’me. Can’t hear you.”

You let out a frustrated, impatient whimper, pushing your ass back against him. You could feel his hardened, throbbing length against your ass as you continued to push your ass back against him. Your pussy was throwing, aching, soaking wet and needed to be filled. You gripped the sink tighter, looking up in the mirror again and watching as Chris licks over his lips as he kneads your ass cheek in his hand, using his other hand to grab onto his own length and spreading your ass cheek to find your hole.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your soaking wet folds, causing you to moan out softly, biting gently onto your bottom lip to try and contain your moans. Last thing you wanted was for him to stop before things hardly even started. “Need you inside me, daddy. Been such a bad girl, but need you to fuck me until I’m dumb. Please. Put that cock to use and fuck me stupid. Need you now.” Your words were filthy, whiny, desperate.

Chris groans at your words, slapping his hardened cock against your soaking wet folds, licking over his lips as he runs the tip up and down against your slick to lather himself up, using his hand to pump his own cock. You spread your legs, your knuckles white from gripping the sink too tightly, “So needy, so desperate f’me aren’t you, you dirty slut? Fuck, you’re dripping wet, already coatin’ my cock. Such slutty behavior.”

You loved being degraded and the words he spoke to you. Seeing Chris like this only turned you on even more and left you dripping wet. “Please.” You begged, your head tilted down, biting hard into your bottom lip so hard that you could draw blood if you wanted to.

He flashes you a devious smirk, licking over his own lips. He grabs your ass cheek in his hand, his fingers digging into the skin to cause scratch marks which only made you wince through clenched teeth, a whiny whimper following suit. He slapped your ass one more time before grabbing ahold of your ass cheek once again to spread you open, the tip of his cock running up and down your slick arousal before suddenly feeling his cock slide deep inside of you inch by inch until he was buried deep inside of you.

Your eyes widened as he suddenly filled you up completely, a long drawn out moan escaping your lips as your gummy walls clench around him immediately. You look up at him through the mirror, his face distorted with pleasure as he begins to thrust his hips back into you causing you to jolt forward against the sink. Your grip was even tighter on the sink to hold yourself up, spreading your legs even wider to feel him slide deeper inside of your needy hole.

“God damn, this pussy was made for me.” He spoke out in a raspy, lustful tone as he began to slide out of you only to thrust back into you deeper, your ass jiggling with each and every thrust. He gripped onto your ass cheeks for leverage as he threw his head back onto his shoulder, a groan escaping his throat. “Such a needy little pussy. Acting so bratty, needed to be fucked, didn’t you?”

All you could do was cry out your reply, your head bent down as you grip tighter against the sink, your tits and ass bouncing with each and every thrust he made behind you, feeling him slide deeper inside of you until he began to probe at your sweet spot causing you to moan even louder now. Your moans echoed throughout the bathroom walls, but you didn’t care, and apparently neither did Chris.

He moved one of his hands up to grip your hair to roughly pull your head back against him so that your lips could press together in a needy, messy kiss. You gasp against the kiss at the sudden, rough movement with his fingers still tangled in your hair as you kiss him back with the same urgency, moaning against his lips as you push your needy hips back into his. “Fuck, daddy.” You moan out against his lips, the sound of your slick arousal squelching around his thickened girth.

The kiss was messy, full of saliva and heavy breathing and incoherent moans leaving both of your lips, but both of you didn’t care. All you could focus on was Chris deep inside of you and how you were already so close to your orgasm. He released your hair from his strong grasp causing your lips to pull away from his and bringing your head back against the sink. He used the same hand to grab your ass cheek and smacked your flesh roughly, causing you to moan out in pleasure.

He thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace as both of your moans echoed the walls, his cock twitching inside of you as your gummy walls clenched around him. “You gonna cum f’me, pretty girl? Touch that clit of yours and cum all over my cock, ma.”

You nodded your head quickly, your chest heaving up and down from the breathless moans you were letting out, your body shaking as you immediately pull your hand down to come in contact with your swollen nub, beginning to rub it in fast circles to match the pace of his ruthless thrusts.

“Daddy! I’m g-gonna cum!” You moan out breathlessly, throwing your head back onto your shoulder, your fingers rubbing your swollen, soaking wet clit vigorously as your eyes stay locked onto the mirror before you to watch Chris the entire time as he continued to fuck into you from behind. Your gummy walls clenched around his cock, a shudder running down your spine as your orgasm begins to take over your body, clenching down hard against his cock as your orgasm rolls through you.

You let out a string of moans and profanities, his name falling from your lips as you thrust your hips back into his to rock out your own orgasm, pulling your hand away from your swollen, overly sensitive clit, your legs shaking from the intense orgasm that had taken over you.

Chris groaned in pleasure as he watched you, and felt you around hs cock, as you allowed yourself to fully let go. He was so close and just by watching you release all around his cock, he knew he was about to paint your gummy walls white.

“Gonna cum inside this tight little cunt, ma. S’all mine.” He grunted out through clenched teeth, thrusting one final time into your sweet pussy as you suddenly felt his cock twitching inside of your wrecked hole as he began to empty his entire load deep inside of your pussy, incoherent moans leaving his lips as he gripped your ass cheeks hard to keep himself steady, allowing his entire load to fill your pussy to the brim.

Another shudder rolled through you, fire coursing through your veins, and your heart beating rapidly in your chest as he finished releasing his load, some of his cum leaking out of your pussy and against your thighs as your head fell to the sink in pure exhaustion, low moans leaving your tired lips. “Fuck, daddy..”

He let out a satisfied groan, slowly grabbing his own cock to slip his length out of your pussy, using one of his hands to spread your ass cheek to watch his load slip out of you and fall against your thighs. He used his index finger to swipe the cum back inside of your spent hole, a soft whimper leaving your lips as your pussy began to clench around the emptiness, already missing being filled up by his cock.

He leaned forward, his sticky and sweaty skin pressing up against you as he gripped your jaw with his fingers to hold your face steady, pressing your lips against his deeply. You gasped at the sudden movement, immediately melting into the kiss, your forehead resting onto his.

“Fuck, ma. So fuckin’ good. Love you, and this pussy so goddamn much.” He pulled away from your lips, keeping your jaw firmly gripped in his hands as he took in your fucked our appearance. His lips curved into a slight smirk as he stared at you, causing your cheeks to turn a dark shade of pink.

You felt more of his cum seeping out of your spent hole as it mixed with your slick arousal. Your pussy continued to clench around nothing, your legs shaking as you turned your body around to face him, wrapping your arms lazily around his neck. “Even when I’m being a brat and ignoring you?”

He grinned as he placed both of his hands against the side of your face, using one of those hands to place a strand of your hair over your ear. You could feel his now softened cock slightly pressed against your thigh, some of his cum still oozing from the tip. You didn’t care that your hole was filled of his cum, or that you just got fucked in the bathroom of the mall. It was all worth it and made you love him even more, if that were possible.

“Hm yes, because we both know where we end up when that happens.”

You did know where you ended up where you acted bratty, and ended up ignoring him totally by accident.

It usually led you to this very point, getting punished in the absolute way and you loved it, so fucking much.

You loved Chris, so fucking much, and that would never change.

notes: thank you so much for the request! if you have any more, don't hesitate to send them to my inbox.

taglist: @strangelife122 @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniszn @estellesdoll @freshsturnzx @ivyyyyyysposts @sturnberries @sturniolochrismatt @lovesturni0l0s

-nessa

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo one shot #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo one shot #sturniolo triplets fic #blushsturnsღ

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slickdickwitchbitchh · 3 months ago

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Streamer!JJ x Tiktokit!girlreader Headcanons

JJ’s streams are pure chaos, filled with jokes, wild commentary, and unpredictable antics. His audience tunes in for the rollercoaster ride he creates every time he goes live.

He leans into his bad-boy charm, often teasing authority figures or poking fun at Twitch rules (without breaking them).

He streams popular games like Call of Duty, Apex Legends, and Fortnite, but also surprises viewers with random choices like Stardew Valley or Among Us, where he thrives as the chaotic wildcard.

He’s always giving away random stuff like custom merch, surfboards, or even an old fishing rod he signed. Fans love how genuine and unpredictable he is.

JJ thrives on trolling back chat trolls, usually with witty comebacks or playful banter. It’s all in good fun, and his fans eat it up.

JJ’s setup is a mix of high-end gaming gear (probably gifted by fans) and things he rigged together himself, like a hand-painted backdrop. His camera angle is always slightly crooked, which fans find endearing.

JJ often streams with John B, Kie, Pope, and Sarah. These sessions are chaotic but hilarious, with JJ constantly trying to prank the others mid-game.

He occasionally takes his audience outside, streaming adventures like late-night fishing or skateboarding stunts. These IRL streams are just as chaotic as his gaming ones.

His chat is filled with recurring memes, like calling out JJ for always “forgetting” to fix his camera or hyping him up as the “king of clutch plays” when he barely scrapes by in games.

JJ uses his platform to raise money for causes close to his heart, like ocean conservation or supporting underprivileged youth. He does wild challenges as donation incentives, like shaving his head or attempting to surf while live-streaming.

He hosts events like beach clean-ups, livestreaming them to encourage his audience to get involved in their own communities.

JJ Maybank wasn’t the type of guy to get flustered, especially not by some girl on TikTok. But there was something about her. Y/N wasn’t just any IT girl—she was the IT girl. Her TikToks were effortlessly cool: dark eyeliner smudged to perfection, oversized leather jackets, and a smirk that could either destroy you or make your whole day. She was the epitome of black cat energy, the polar opposite of JJ’s chaotic golden retriever vibe.

It started with a repost. JJ was mindlessly scrolling TikTok late at night when he stumbled upon one of her videos. She was mouthing along to some sultry audio, her piercing gaze aimed directly into the camera. Without thinking, he hit the “repost” button and added the caption, "Okay, but why is this so good? Teach me your ways."

He didn’t think much of it—just JJ being JJ, hyping up someone who clearly had their life together. What he didn’t anticipate was the absolute meltdown his fans would have the next day.

JJ went live on Twitch the following afternoon, expecting another chaotic day of gaming and banter. But the chat was already spiraling out of control before he even picked up his controller.

“JJ, explain that TikTok repost.” “Bro, are you crushing on Y/N or what?” “JYN 2024 LET’S GO!”

JJ squinted at the chat, confused. “What are you guys talking about?” Then it hit him. His repost. His face immediately flushed. “Oh, come on! I just thought it was a good TikTok! Can’t a guy appreciate some talent without everyone making it weird?”

His chat was having none of it. Fans spammed heart emojis, ship names, and theories about JJ’s crush. Despite his protests, he couldn’t hide the goofy grin that crept onto his face whenever Y/N’s name came up.

It wasn’t long before Y/N caught wind of the repost. Her comment section was flooded with messages like, “JJ Maybank is OBSESSED with you,” and “When’s the collab with JJ?”

Ever the unbothered queen, Y/N played it cool. She stitched his repost, smirking into the camera as she said, “JJ? Isn’t he that streamer who can’t finish a game without breaking something?”

The video went viral immediately. JJ saw it live during one of his streams, his jaw dropping in mock offense as the clip played on repeat. “Chat, did she just roast me? Oh, it’s on now.”

But instead of firing back with an actual roast, JJ doubled down on the banter. He reposted her video with, "Touché. But we all know I’d win in a 1v1. Prove me wrong?" Fans loved the playful back-and-forth, and the internet began buzzing about their “rivalry.”

After weeks of teasing from his fans, JJ finally slid into Y/N’s DMs. His message was equal parts confident and awkward:

“Okay, so I’m not saying I’m scared of you, but I’m also not not saying it. Wanna settle this on stream? Loser buys dinner.”

To his surprise, Y/N replied within minutes. “You’re lucky I like chaos. Let’s do it. But don’t cry when I win.”

From that point on, their banter escalated. They played a few games together—her calm, calculated black cat energy perfectly balancing his chaotic golden retriever vibe. Every time she called him out for being “too loud” or “too much,” he countered with an over-the-top compliment that made her laugh despite herself.

Fans started shipping them harder than ever, creating fan edits of JJ’s streams mixed with her TikToks. “Golden retriever x black cat” trended across multiple platforms, and both JJ and Y/N leaned into it, dropping subtle hints about their connection.

Despite the internet’s obsession with their ship, JJ and Y/N kept things private. They texted constantly, had late-night FaceTime calls, and even managed to meet up a few times without anyone finding out. JJ would ramble about her to John B and Pope, grinning like an idiot the entire time.

“She’s so cool, man. Like, effortlessly cool. I don’t even know why she talks to me.”

Pope smirked. “Maybe because you won’t shut up about her?”

Meanwhile, Y/N’s TikToks started to feature subtle hints of their connection. A leather jacket draped over a chair that looked suspiciously like JJ’s. A quick shot of a hand with his signature Pogue bracelet. Her fans speculated wildly, but she never confirmed anything.

JJ loved how private their relationship was, but he also couldn’t wait to share her with the world. He just didn’t know how.

It happened unexpectedly during one of JJ’s streams. He was mid-match, trash-talking his opponents, when a voice chimed in from off-camera.

“You talk a big game for someone who just got sniped.”

JJ froze, his eyes darting to the side. “Chat… wait. Hold up. Chat, I didn’t—she wasn’t supposed to be here yet.”

Before he could explain, Y/N walked into frame, looking effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie and messy hair. She leaned on his chair, smirking at the camera.

“Hey, JJ’s little crew. Hope he’s treating you better than he treats his K/D ratio.”

Chaos erupted. The chat was a flood of messages:

“NO WAY IS THAT Y/N???”

“Golden retriever x black cat IRL CONFIRMED.”

“Our ship is REAL!”

JJ groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, you just broke the internet.”

“Good,” she replied, smirking. “They needed something exciting today.”

For the rest of the stream, the two bantered back and forth, with Y/N casually roasting JJ’s gameplay and him dramatically pretending to be heartbroken. Fans couldn’t get enough.

The internet exploded with memes, fan edits, and tweets about the reveal. JJ and Y/N trended for days, their dynamic captivating fans everywhere. Despite the chaos, they handled it in stride, continuing to stream together occasionally while keeping most of their relationship private.

JJ loved seeing her in her element, effortlessly winning over his fans with her quick wit and charm. And Y/N couldn’t help but admire how genuine and fun he was, even when the spotlight was on them.

Their relationship became the perfect mix of chaos and calm—just like a golden retriever and a black cat.

Stream Comments :

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😭💘 THEY'RE ENDGAME, YOUR HONOR."

"JJ pulled Y/N??? The rest of us don’t stand a CHANCE."

"She’s so black cat coded, and he’s just barking in the background. Literal perfection."

"So we’re just not gonna talk about how he’s been soft-launching her for WEEKS???"

"‘She wasn’t supposed to be here yet’ 🤨 JJ, be so serious. You KNEW."

"The way she casually roasted him and he just SMILED??? Sir, you’re down bad."

"Plot twist: They’ve been dating this whole time, and we were just clowns 🤡."

"JJ soft launching her bracelet in the background of his streams… sneaky king 😏."

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #streamer!jj #it!girl reader #streamerjjmaybank

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super-ion · 6 months ago

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Oh, hello! Welcome!

I take it this is your first time out in the deep black?

Oh no, no need to get defensive about it, Everyone has to start somewhere. We get many travelers paying tribute at our little church here. You've got the look of someone who's never been beyond low orbit. I'm guessing one of the third wave colonies?

(It's the implants. Secondwave culture is a bit more uptight about them and you don't look like you're trying to rebel)

You're wondering why we have valuable real estate set aside for a shrine of all things?

You're wondering what sort of god spacers worship?

Do you know what a god is? I'll tell you. A god is an idea given life.

So what's the idea that keeps us flying?

Most folk born planetside might think the god of spaceflight is all fire and noise. Nah. Any moron with enough money and explosives can build a rocket.

No, the idea that keeps us going out here is faith that ask these tiny little pressure vessels will hold together and find their way through the black.

Back in the ancient days, back before thinking machines and all that, the very first leaps off the ground were guided by computers that were hand made. I shit you not, little old ladies hand sewed the memory together.

Huh…? No, I mean like, hard coded read only memory, literal ones and zeros locked into magnets and wire.

That's my point though. Our god began life as the god of seamstresses. She's the god of sewing and weaving. She's older than civilization and she's gone by many names in many cultures.

Yeah, no, of course we don't hand sew our computers, that lasted all of like a decade. Hell, textile work itself went totally automated not long after. Point is she took men into space and brought them home safely. That sorta thing leaves a mark on a god. It changes them.

A ship. A station. A fleet. They're all systems. People and life support and sensors and actuators and control loops. It's all a web, a giant fucking tapestry of connections and she's the master weaver at the center.

But of course the web is massive, and she isn't literally weaving shit. She's all of the maintenance. Corrective and preventive. So it falls on all of us, the pilots, the mechanics, the algae farmers, the sanitation workers, everyone. We're the sewers and weavers. We're the ones patching and mending the tapestry. We're the ones adding to it constantly.

So that's what the shrine is for. That's the religion in out here in the black. Deep space is a bitch, and all we have to count on is the ship and the crew. She reminds us of that.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #scifi #snippet

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castingspellsanddaisies · 6 months ago

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TAROT READING: Jude Bellingham

(DISCLAIMER: Take everything with a graint of salt) - PS: It's all true but i have to write this disclaimer just in case. Anyway... Enjoy the reading!

How Jude Bellingham behaves in his romantic relationships:

Crossroads + Clouds + Child + Letter + Heart + Cross | back of the deck: Rider

Ace of pentacles + the high priestess reversed + ace of swords + the emperor + 7 of wands reversed + 7 of swords reversed | back of the deck: page of pentacles

In both decks I got this energy of indecisiveness from him. It can be because of his inexperience in relationships, but also because he is indecisive in his life in general, likes to take the place of the child, so he prefers to let his partner take the lead.

I see friends to lovers dynamic.

Jude will be talking, texting, calling his partner all the time, I'm not exagerating. Demanding of his partner`s time and attention. Also, he likes to improve the relationship, so always bringing new things to do, paying attention to the smallest details in his partner, he can be a little too critical for his own good.

He's clingy (touch starved), obessesive, controlling - but he tries to hide this the best he can (but is he good at that though? I'm not sure). On the outside, he really is giving his all to his partner and the relationship, but these controlling and obsessive feelings are more interior. He easily starts to overthink in relationships and gets extressed (why she did'nt replay yet? Where's she? What she must be doing right now? I better call her again just to be sure, why she did'nt laught at what I said this time? Oh no, she doesn`t love me anymore? - and so on, so dramatic lol).

I also feel like he tends to contain himself a lot when he`s single (emotionally and sexually), so he`s starving to meet someone, fall in love and let go of all his restraints. Jude has zero boundaries and zero self control when he`s in love, so God help his partner.

Again I picked up this energy from him wanting to fix his partner through his love. Cute.

How Jude Bellingham treats his partner in his relationships?

Letter + Garden + Sun + Snake + Heart + Ship | back of the deck: bouquet

The magician + king of pentacles reversed + 9 of pentacles reversed + knight of swords + the sun reversed + the star reversed | back of the deck: knight of pentacles

''Speak, woman!'' haha so Jude will talk with his partner about everything, anytime. He can't stop talking and listening to her. Open and sincere communication is very, very important for him.

Jude romances her, like a never ending honeymoon phase. He will love to show her off in public too - as a power couple. And they will fuck - sorry, make love - all the time. He just can't help it. OMG he's so attracted to her it's insane. Also coming up with suprise gifts, surprise voyages... Constantly surprising his partner.

Jude wants to act and be somebody his partner can count on 100%, but this comes from a place of insecurity. It's like he's saying ''please, don't leave me. look! I give you all this money, I give you all my time, my everything, so please don't leave!''. With that being said, he's a provider (emotionally, physically, financially, you name it).

Even with all of that, Jude has mood swings (cancer energyyyy), so sometimes he may retreat or not be so talkative, or seem very pessimistic about things - but it will pass.

Overall, if you're a little bit insane in the head, you can deal with his red flags just fine! lol

Thank you <3

#tarot reading #celebrity #football #jude bellingham #jude victor william bellingham #celebrity tarot

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totothewolff · 11 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver. The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him.

Your clothes hit the ground.

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown.

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine."

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you.

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance.

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other.

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't.

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval.

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras.

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room.

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today.

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days.

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him.

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break.

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt.

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth.

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity.

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release.

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists.

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him.

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally.

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water.

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed.

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard.

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners.

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters.

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view.

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it.

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed.

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you.

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange.

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours.

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen.

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer.

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one.

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest.

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge.

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly.

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans.

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin.

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down.

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean.

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes.

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk.

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places.

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa.

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives.

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

You two have never talked about your future.

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever.

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries.

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot.

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky!

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation.

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you.

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you.

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong.

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening.

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see.

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party.

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch.

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body.

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away.

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch.

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him.

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips.

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

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shiorihyugawrites · 22 days ago

Text

Owned - Eren x Reader Modern AU

You were hired to sing at the most exclusive lounge in Paradis City—classy, high-end, and quietly owned by none other than the infamous Eren Jaeger. The moment he sees you on stage, he’s hooked.

You try to resist. He’s your boss. He’s dangerous. He’s taken.

But Eren doesn’t take no for an answer.

He showers you in gifts, whispers promises against your skin, and drags you into a world of dark secrets and criminal power. Even as guilt and jealousy twist inside you, the heat between you burns out of control.

He has a girlfriend. He doesn’t care.

And when he finally claims you? He makes sure you know one thing—you belong to him.

PART ONE: THE DEVIL IN THE FRONT ROW

A/N: 18+ Only Minors Do Not Interact

PART ONE: THE DEVIL IN THE FRONT ROW

The night air in Paradis City is hot and heavy, clinging to your skin as you step onto the sidewalk outside Jaeger’s Lounge. A neon sign glows across the blacked-out windows, a stylized “J” flickering green and gold. It’s only your first night on the job and you’re already late—a bit of traffic, plus last-minute nerves, turned your usual cool composure into something jittery.

You straighten your outfit, chest rising as you take a steadying breath. People pass by on the street, flashing curious glances. Jaeger’s Lounge is infamous; rumor says the owner is some big-shot gangster who rules Paradis City’s underworld. But you need the money, and the manager who hired you made it sound legit—“We run a tight ship,” he said. “We only want the best. We pay well, no strings attached.”

And so here you are, clutching a small bag with your stage heels and a few personal items, anxious to see what the night will bring.

The inside of the lounge is pure indulgence: plush velvet booths, low ambient lighting, a long bar backed by bottles that sparkle like precious stones. The stage sits at the center, the perfect spotlight for any performer. You take it all in, a flutter of excitement rushing through you. Singing here is about to be your big break; the place practically drips with wealth.

Your new manager, a man named Ray, waves you over from near the bar. “Hey! Finally, you’re here,” he greets, forcing a polite grin.

“Sorry for the delay,” you say, glancing around. “Traffic.”

“No worries,” Ray says, eyes flicking behind you. “We have a full house tonight. You’ll go on in about twenty minutes.”

An unexpected hush falls over the bar behind you. You sense a presence—a shift in the atmosphere. Even with your back turned, you notice how everyone looks in one direction. Ray’s posture stiffens, voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“He’s here,” he murmurs cryptically.

“Who?” you ask, but Ray doesn’t answer. Instead, he excuses himself, darting away so quickly you hardly register the movement.

You turn around to see what’s causing the commotion. At the lounge entrance stands a man with long, dark hair pulled into a low bun with a few strands falling on his forehead, wearing a sleek black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal elaborate tattoos that wind from the backs of his hands, twisting up his forearms. He’s tall—very tall—easily towering over his companions. His emerald gaze sweeps the lounge with a cool, impenetrable calm. That stoic aura only amplifies the raw intensity beneath.

He’s flanked by people you only half recognize from hearsay and rumors: Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Armin Arlert, Levi Ackerman—some of Eren Jaeger’s top men. They move together like a quiet storm, presence alone stirring a ripple of unease and awe in the crowd. Then, the man in the center—Eren Jaeger himself—strides forward, exuding quiet confidence. He makes no apology for the effect he has on the room.

Your manager’s words echo: He’s here. So this is the man rumored to own the lounge. The biggest name in Paradis City’s underworld. You swallow the sudden tightness in your throat, tearing your gaze away and heading backstage to get changed.

Backstage is cluttered with costume racks, mirrors rimmed by bright bulbs, and a few other performers fussing over their outfits. You claim a corner vanity and begin your routine, carefully warming up your voice, fixing your hair, checking your reflection.

A stagehand hovers by, letting you know there are ten minutes until your set. You nod, adrenaline pulsing. This is your dream gig, your path to bigger opportunities—yet the hush in the crowd earlier still lingers in your mind. Eren Jaeger… I should steer clear of men like that. People say that where Eren goes, trouble follows.

But you have a job to do. You step onto the stage, the lights flooding around you. The band behind you starts the opening chords. Even if your stomach twists with nerves, you’ve practiced for this. You open your mouth and sing.

The lounge’s chatter fades the moment you begin. Your voice carries through the smoky air, and you can practically feel the crowd slip into the palm of your hand. There’s power in performing, in luring everyone’s attention to your stage.

By the time you finish your first song, you hear a few hoots, whistles, and an enthusiastic round of applause. You catch glimpses of Eren in the back, seated in a private booth with tinted glass partitions. His face is unreadable—arms crossed, posture relaxed, but his eyes... they’re locked on you with an intensity that sends a thrilling shiver down your spine.

You do a couple more songs, each time taking a breath between sets. And each time you glance his way, there he is: watchful, focused, seemingly transfixed. Ignore it, you tell yourself. He’s probably this intense about everything.

When your set ends, you thank the audience and descend the stage. Butterflies dance in your stomach as you slip into the back corridors, heading to the dressing room to gather yourself. You’re mid-sip of water, heart still pounding from the performance, when the door opens.

Ray steps in, smiling like he hit the jackpot.

“Good news. Boss wants to meet you,” he says, looking almost giddy with relief.

“Your boss…” you repeat warily.

“The boss,” Ray clarifies. “Eren Jaeger. He rarely takes an interest in new performers, so this could be a big deal for you.”

You swallow, memories of that stormy gaze fresh in your mind. If you’re honest with yourself, a part of you wants to see him again, to unravel the mystique swirling around him. But the rational side warns: He’s trouble. However, you’re new. You can’t just snub the man who owns the lounge. “Alright… lead the way.”

Ray ushers you to a secluded booth away from prying eyes. Eren sits at the center with a couple of men from earlier. Up close, you note the raw dominance in every small movement—like he has absolute control of the space, even while seated.

He stands as you approach. Being this close, you sense his height—he towers over you—and the subtle swirl of tattoos at the neckline of his shirt. The overhead lighting gleams off the rings on his fingers. He extends a hand in greeting.

“Eren Jaeger,” he says simply, voice low and smooth.

“Hi,” you reply, giving your name, fighting to keep your voice steady. His hand dwarfs yours in a firm, brief handshake. The contact is electric, igniting a pulse of awareness that rushes up your arm.

Ray slips away, leaving you alone with him—like an offering.

Eren watches you, eyes lingering on your face with unapologetic interest. “Heard you sing. You’re good,” he says.

A faint flush warms your cheeks. “Thank you. Glad you liked it.”

“Have a seat,” he instructs, gesturing to the booth. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m good.” You slide into the plush seat, forcing yourself not to stare too hard at his angular features or those tattoos swirling down his neck. His cologne is dangerously enticing, a subtle blend of spice and smoke that practically demands your attention.

He sits as well, leaning forward so you’re almost knee to knee. “You new to Paradis City?”

“More or less,” you admit, lifting your chin with a hint of defiance. “Just trying to build my career. Like everyone else.”

He nods slowly, gaze never leaving yours. That unwavering focus is disarming, sending your pulse into a staccato.

Conversation flows in short bursts. Eren asks a few questions, you respond, and each time he leans in, your breath hitches. He’s so stoic and calm, but the heat in his eyes is impossible to ignore. You can feel him devouring every detail, mentally cataloging all your subtle reactions.

Finally, you murmur something about needing to get back and gather your things. Eren’s mouth twitches into a near-smile—just a ghost of it. “I’ll see you around,” he says, and it sounds like a promise. Or a threat. You can’t tell which, and your body is riddled with nervous anticipation as you walk away.

…

You barely escape that night with your composure intact. The next evening, you return for another performance, only to find a sleek black box with a satin ribbon waiting at your dressing area. A note pinned to it simply says:

“Wear this tonight. I’ll be watching. —E.J.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Eren. A swirl of excitement and reluctance churns in your gut. Opening the box, you find an impossibly expensive backless designer dress in your size. There’s no question—he wants to see you in it, wants to claim you in some subtle, material way.

Your pride bristles. Who does he think he is? Yet the dress is gorgeous. The color, the fit—it’s heartbreakingly perfect, the kind of luxury you’ve only daydreamed about. After a minute of deliberation, you exhale and decide to wear it. Because if someone’s going to shower you with designer gifts, at least you’ll shine on stage.

Performing in that dress is exhilarating. You feel sexy, powerful. And, no surprise, Eren is out there in the crowd again, eyes never straying from you. You see him, seated in his private booth, swirling a drink in one hand, the other resting casually on his thigh.

After the show, you gather your courage to confront him. “This,” you say, gesturing to the dress, “wasn’t necessary.”

He barely shrugs, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You deserve the best. I always take care of my own.”

“I’m not ‘yours,’” you retort. “I’m just an employee.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

He keeps it up for weeks—sending you fancy accessories, jewelry, picking up your tab at the lounge, even leaving cryptic notes that borderline on possessive. You push him away verbally, but inside, each gift sends your heart racing. You try to remain professional, but you can’t deny the attraction that keeps burning hotter every time he corners you in the hallway or appears after your set with that unwavering stare.

…

One night, you’re in the middle of your final performance of the evening, belting out a powerful ballad for the crowd. The lights shine hot on your skin, the crowd’s energy fueling you. Then, from the corner of your eye, you see Eren walk in—with a woman clinging to his arm.

She’s tall, fit, with a black bob that frames a pretty face. You watch him press a light kiss to her temple before sliding into a VIP booth. Your voice nearly cracks mid-note. Who the hell is she? They’re extremely comfortable together—her hand rests on his thigh, and she leans in to whisper something in his ear while he nods.

You force yourself to push through the performance, though your stomach twists with jealousy you can’t rationalize. You’ve been resisting Eren’s advances. You’re not together—why do you feel so stung that he might be with someone else? And yet… you do.

The final note of the song ends, and the lounge erupts in applause. You do a quick bow, ignoring the way your chest feels tight, and hurry backstage without waiting for your usual post-show greeting.

You rush into the dressing room, slamming the door behind you. Your pulse thrums in your ears, anger and jealousy roiling in your chest. “Why the hell am I so mad?” you mutter to yourself. It’s not like you had the right to be jealous. But for weeks, Eren’s relentless pursuit gave you the impression that you were the singular focus of his attention. And maybe deep down, you liked it.

A sharp knock rattles the door. You fling it open, expecting Eren. Instead, it’s one of the staff members.

“Boss wants you back on stage for an encore. The crowd’s going crazy,” he explains.

“Fine.” You push past him, muttering under your breath. I’ll do my job. And then I’m out.

The moment you step on stage for the encore, your eyes flick to Eren’s booth. He’s still there with the mystery woman. She’s looking at you suspiciously, probably picking up on the tension in the air. Eren, though, pins you with that same green-eyed stare, watching you like a hawk.

You belt out your final song, trying to maintain your composure, but frustration leaks into your performance—each note weighted with raw emotion. The audience loves it, your voice carrying a little edge of heartbreak and fury. But as soon as you wrap up, you storm off stage, ignoring the applause, ignoring everything but the need to get away from that scene.

Back in the dressing room, your chest heaves from the exertion. You’re no longer sure if it’s from singing or from the emotional whiplash. You start to gather your belongings, half planning to slip out the back and avoid Eren altogether.

But the door flies open and slams behind someone. You whirl around—it’s him.

His hair is loose from its tie, a few strands framing the cut of his jaw. He stands there in his black shirt, sleeves rolled up, tattoos on full display, breathing just a touch heavier than usual—like he rushed to follow you.

“What the hell do you want?” you snap, hugging your arms across your torso. “Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?”

He steps closer, ignoring your jab. “That’s Mikasa,” he says flatly. “We’ve been together two years.”

A cold wave of shock seeps through you. “Two years… So all this time you’ve been… what, just leading me on?”

He narrows his eyes. “Leading you on implies I’m playing games. I’m not. I want you.”

You bark out a sarcastic laugh. “You’re a piece of shit!”

That remark draws a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. “Watch your mouth.”

“Why? Don’t want to admit you’re creeping around behind your girlfriend’s back—”

He crosses the room in two strides, his broad shoulders and powerful build looming over you. “You don’t know anything about me and Mikasa.” His voice is dangerously low.

Anger flares up your spine. “I know you’re cheating on her with me.”

“That would imply you and I have something going on,” he retorts. Then, quieter: “Which we do… or we will. And I’m not sorry.”

Your heart pounds. You hate how your body reacts to him, even now—his presence sets every nerve aflame, your anger melding with an almost electric attraction. You fight to hold onto your fury, spitting, “Get out of my dressing room, Eren.”

He exhales slowly. “No.”

You scoff, turning away, messing with the vanity table to gather your scattered things. “So that’s it? You come in here, half-explain you’ve got a girlfriend, and still think I’m gonna let you keep showering me with gifts and—”

In a flash, he closes the distance, one hand braced on the table, the other on the wall, trapping you. His voice rumbles close to your ear. “I don’t think you understand. I see what I want. I take it. No one else matters.”

Despite your better judgment, your pulse races with a traitorous desire. “You sound like a psychopath.”

He lets out a short chuckle, the warmth of it ghosting over your neck. “Maybe. But you’re still trembling when I get close, so what does that say about you?”

Your back is pressed against the vanity, Eren’s body heat surrounding you. You can’t ignore the gravitational pull between you. You hate it… or maybe you love it. The confusion tears you up inside. “This is messed up,” you whisper.

Eren’s hand brushes your cheek, tilting your chin so your eyes meet his. The weight of his gaze nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. “I never said I was a good man,” he says. “Just that I want you.”

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering. “Get out.”

“No.” He dips his head, lips hovering near your ear. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk out. But I don’t think you can.”

You take a shaky breath, hating how right he is. You’re furious, yet your body feels alive, thrumming with anticipation. “I hate you.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s not what I asked, is it?” You open your mouth to retort, but he moves faster—his hand slides behind your neck, pulling you into a rough, demanding kiss.

You gasp in surprise, and he takes advantage, tongue sliding against yours. He tastes of top-shelf whiskey and something inherently Eren. It’s a needy, brutal clash of lips and teeth, and it rips a moan from your throat despite your anger.

Eren breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, eyes half-lidded as he studies you. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice tight with lust. “You taste so damn good.”

“Don’t—” you try to protest, but it’s useless. He leans back in, biting your bottom lip softly before pulling you flush against him. You can feel his body heat, his hardness pressing against your stomach, sending a jolting thrill straight between your legs.

He grips the collar of your dress, hooking a finger under it. “I want this off,” he growls.

Every rational thought screams at you to shove him away—but your traitorous fingers fly to your own clothes, tugging them off in frantic motions. You’re panting, adrenaline coursing. Eren’s gaze devours every inch of newly exposed skin.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathes, brushing his knuckles over your sternum. “Can’t believe you’ve been playing so hard to get.”

You bristle, swatting his hand away. “Like I’m just some prize?”

His eyes flick up, a smug half-smile playing on his lips. “You’re more than that. But I do win, and you?” He leans closer, warm breath caressing your ear. “You’re the biggest prize I’ve had my sights on for a while.”

Eren’s mouth trails down your neck, and you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut. He’s rough, but not careless. Every bite, every lick, every press of his lips makes your body arch toward him. “Damn,” you whisper shakily.

He sinks to his knees, hands gripping your hips in place with clear authority. The moment his tongue presses against you, a startled cry leaves your mouth. You cling to the edge of the table for dear life, mind going blank as he devours you with slow, thorough strokes.

You feel the cool air of the dressing room on your overheated skin, your breathing ragged, heart drumming in your ears. Eren shifts his approach, alternating between relentless and teasing, drawing out whimpers you can’t swallow. The filthy, wet sounds echo in the small room, and you clamp a hand over your mouth, mortified by how loud you’re getting.

His gaze flicks up, meeting yours. In that moment, you see the pure hunger in his eyes—like he can’t get enough. He pins your thighs wide, preventing you from squirming away, then presses his mouth to you again, flicking and sucking until a tight coil forms low in your belly.

It’s too good, too intense. Your legs tremble against his shoulders. “Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’m—”

He growls something you can’t quite catch, then suddenly stops. You let out a whine of frustration at your denied release.

Eren stands and yanks you against him, mouth colliding with yours in a searing kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. “You taste so damn sweet,” he rasps, voice laced with desire. “I need more.”

In one smooth motion, he catches your wrist and tugs you away from the vanity, guiding you toward the small couch along the dressing room wall. He plants you there, the cushions dipping under your weight. You glance up, heart racing, while he peels off his black shirt, revealing sculpted muscle and a tapestry of tattoos that curl across his arms and chest.

You swallow, eyes trailing the ink. Eren notices your distraction and smirks. He slides down the zipper on his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard and already leaking. You try to look anywhere else, but it’s impossible not to notice how large he is, how each movement radiates confidence.

The air around you shifts, like everything else fades away, leaving only you two in this haze of mutual hunger. Eren drops down onto the edge of the couch, hands finding your waist.

“You’ve been so fucking cocky,” he mutters, running a thumb across your lower lip. “Ignoring my gifts, making me chase you. Now you’re gonna beg for my cock like a good girl.”

Anger sparks, but it’s doused by the immediate surge of arousal coursing through you. “Fuck you.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “Soon,” he promises. “But first, let’s see if you can keep up that mouthy attitude when you’re dripping for me.”

His palms glide down, gripping your thighs, opening them up. The cooler air hits your bare skin, and you twitch with a mix of anticipation and embarrassment. The hunger in his gaze pins you in place.

“Eren—” you start, but he cuts you off by pressing two fingers over your folds, teasing a light stroke. You arch, a gasp slipping from your lips.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. “Already soaked, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, but you can’t deny the wetness. Anger and lust swirl inside you, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

He slides his fingers up and down your pussy, the friction maddeningly slow. “Tell me,” he coaxes, leaning down to graze his lips along your throat. “Tell me how much you want this.”

You bite your lip stubbornly. A flick of his thumb lands right on your clit, and you jolt. It’s a wicked tease, his touch both infuriating and addictive.

“Come on,” he whispers against your skin, licking a path up to your jaw. “Admit you’ve been dying for me to fuck you. I can feel how badly your pussy’s begging to be filled.”

You scrunch your eyes shut, torn between pride and desire. But your body betrays you—your hips roll into his hand, seeking more friction.

He smirks. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, stroking you more firmly. “Say it. I wanna hear you beg.”

Your nails dig into the couch. You hate how easily he’s unraveling you, how your pride is slipping away. “Please,” you finally whisper.

He stops. The sudden emptiness where his fingers were makes you whine. “Louder,” he demands, his free hand cupping your chin. “Look me in the eyes and beg for my cock.”

You open your eyes, meeting that intense green gaze. “Please,” you say again, voice trembling. “I… I want you. Need you to fuck me, Eren.”

His face twists in triumphant satisfaction, and that heavy tension in the air explodes. In a swift motion, he slides back onto his knees in front of the couch, hooking your legs over his shoulders. Before you can even process, his mouth is on you again—hot, wet, and relentless.

You cry out, back arching off the cushions. He devours you with fierce hunger, tongue lapping and sucking at your pussy, driving you insane. His grip on your thighs tightens, preventing any escape from the onslaught of pleasure.

He slides his tongue in deep, then drags it up to circle your clit in slow, maddening spirals. You moan shamelessly, tangling your fingers in his hair. The obscene wet sounds fill the small room, and each swirl of his tongue sends bolts of ecstasy shooting through your core.

Eren’s eyes flick up, watching you through half-lowered lids. He loves this—loves seeing you fall apart on his tongue. He grips your ass, pulling you even closer, burying his face like he can’t get enough.

“Oh my god, Eren,” you gasp, breath ragged.

He hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl. You’re right on the brink when he abruptly stops, pulling away. You let out a frustrated whine at the loss of yet another orgasm.

“Patience,” he murmurs, standing up. His lips glisten with your arousal. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a devilish grin curling his lips. “I’m not letting you come yet. I wanna be inside you when it happens.”

Your core clenches, desperate for release. He smirks, sliding onto the couch, pressing his chest to yours so you’re lying beneath him. The hardened length of his cock slides against your inner thigh, teasing.

“Beg for it again,” he orders softly, voice thick with lust.

“Eren,” you whimper, hips shifting restlessly.

“Say, ‘I want your cock inside me. Fill me up, Eren.’”

Heat burns across your cheeks. Somehow it feels so dirty, so wrong, yet you need it. Your nails rake down his back. “I want your cock inside me,” you whisper, pulse skittering. “Fill me up, Eren.”

His breath hitches, eyes darkening. “That’s my girl.”

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself into your pussy, ripping a sharp cry from you both. He’s thick, stretching you in a way that stings at first, but the pleasure follows swiftly, igniting every nerve.

“Fuck,” he snarls, teeth gritted. “So tight.” He stills momentarily, letting you adjust, though you can feel his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.

You breathe through the pressure, arms clinging to his shoulders. When you give a slight nod, he wastes no time—pulls back, then slams forward again. You practically see stars.

“Look at me,” he growls, hooking an arm under your leg to angle your hips up. “Look at me while I fuck this perfect pussy.”

Your eyelids flutter, fighting the urge to roll back from the intensity. You force your gaze up, meeting his. The raw desire etched into his features makes your body sing. He sets a punishing rhythm—fast, hard, and relentless.

The sound of your bodies colliding echoes in the dressing room, accompanied by ragged moans and curses from Eren. You cling to him, nails carving crescents into his skin, the couch bouncing against the wall with every thrust.

“Ah—Eren—” you gasp, voice high with pleasure.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Come on, baby,” he urges, panting against your mouth. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

His cock drives deeper, and you feel the brush of him hitting that sweet spot inside you. Fire erupts in your veins. “Oh my god,” you moan. “I’m so close—”

“That’s right,” he grits out, hooking his other arm behind your knee, practically folding you in half. The angle intensifies everything. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Let me feel that tight cunt squeeze my cock.”

His filthy words make your cheeks burn, but they also push you right to the edge. You scramble for something to hold on to, half-burying your face against his shoulder. “I—I can’t—”

“Give it to me,” he growls, snapping his hips faster. “Come on my cock, right fucking now.”

A scream wrenches from your throat as your orgasm slams into you. Your walls clamp around him, and the wave of pleasure blanks your vision. You cling to him, spasming in release. Eren curses, thrusts becoming erratic before he stills, spilling himself deep inside you with a strangled groan.

For several seconds, the two of you remain tangled, sweaty and panting. His forehead drops against yours. You can still feel the tremors of aftershocks rippling through your body. The filthy warmth of his cum drips down your thighs.

His lips graze your ear. “Fuck,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “You feel so fucking good.”

You swallow hard, heart still racing. Every nerve in your body is alight, a mix of shame and satisfaction warring inside you. Slowly, he withdraws. You bite your lip at the empty ache, wincing at the oversensitivity.

Eren’s arms remain braced around you, preventing you from pulling away. His hair brushes your cheek, and he inhales the scent of your skin. “Next time, you won’t walk away so easily,” he warns softly, as though there’s any chance of you forgetting this moment.

You glare up at him, too breathless to form a comeback. The reality of what just happened starts to sink in: the fact that not only is he your boss, but he has a girlfriend. And you let him fuck you senseless in your dressing room.

He reads the conflict in your eyes and scoffs. “Don’t overthink it,” he says, rolling off you but keeping a firm hand on your thigh. “We both know you wanted it.”

Shame and a simmering anger bubble up, but even now, you can’t deny how your body hums from the afterglow. “You’re insane,” you mutter, propping yourself on shaky elbows.

He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze again. His eyes shine with that fierce, possessive spark. “Maybe,” he agrees quietly, “but you’re not any better. You’re mine now.”

That final statement settles over you like a challenge—or a dark promise. With your pulse still pounding, you stare back defiantly, refusing to yield, even though you know you’re already lost in whatever spell he’s cast.

He stands, beginning to gather his clothes, and for a moment, you catch yourself admiring the ink winding across his chest and arms. You close your eyes, berating yourself. This is wrong. I shouldn’t want more. But your body’s still thrumming with the aftertaste of his dominance, your mind replaying every filthy word he whispered.

You drag yourself upright, fumbling for your discarded dress. Your legs threaten to buckle as you stand. Eren watches, his expression smug, like a predator who caught his prey.

“Go home,” he finally says, buttoning his pants. “I’ll handle Mikasa.”

The mention of her name sends a pang through your gut. You stiffen, pulling on your outfit and swallowing a fresh wave of guilt. You despise that you’re involved in something so clearly immoral, but you can’t go back in time. The question is—would you, even if you could?

You tug your shirt on, shaking your head. “This—this can’t happen again.”

Eren chuckles, stepping over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah?” He leans in, brushing a featherlight kiss on your lips. “We’ll see about that.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving you trembling, disheveled, and flooded with both regret and a dark, gnawing desire. You sink onto the couch, breath uneven, mind racing.

It’s only later, when you finally make your way out of the lounge and into the night air, that the enormity of what happened sets in. You’re caught in Eren Jaeger’s web—your boss, a brutal gang leader, and someone else’s boyfriend. Part of you knows you should run. Another part is already counting the minutes till you see him again.

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teezersfics · 11 months ago

Text

Money, Revenge & Sex ~ Choi San

“Oh, and my name is San, in case you need to moan.”

♡ EROTICA ATEEZ ♡

Warnings : Pirate-Cowboy!Dom!San, Cowgirl!sub!reader, unprotected sex, little mention of abuse. Plot at the beginning and the end, mostly plot based. Plot-twist(?), no proof read.

Word count : 3.1 k

I hope you like the...........plot?!?!??!? 😬

Sitting at one of the stools at the tavern, you are scanning the crowd, trying to find the most anticipated faces. The Pirate King and His Crew, one of the most deadly pirates to exist in the present world. Who were rumoured to be on the shore of Puerto Escondido, (Mexico), around this week, for a secret mission, and, you suspect, what can it be.

Lord Antonio, the most popular and wealthy dealer of South Mexico, asked ATEEZ, a Pirate group consisting of the most deadliest crew in this world, for help, to gain power over the southern ports of Mexico. He asked for this favour some years ago. By providing some of the best types of products from all over the world to Mexico, by eliminating all the cunning Mayor's of the towns alongside the southern coast, to bring him the control of those towns. Initially, Antonio's intention of gaining the power was to provide good amenities to the people of the coast, avoid them from facing assaults and loots from other pirates, etc.

But, as time passed, Antonio grew greedy for more and more money. He started keeping all the money eventually, growing his domination over the ports and trades happening in South Mexico. When the news reached the Government, they sent the Navy to gain back control, and execute Antonio. But, with all the power he had, he fooled the Navy, and killed many Navy officers. He crushed all of the attempts of the Navy and the government.

There was a deal, happened between ATEEZ and Antonio, that whenever ATEEZ pays a visit to Mexico, Antonio will pay them 1/4th of the profit he gained every month. But, he broke the deal, only paying for the first two months, later on he pretended to be busy, to have gone somewhere, tried to hide and what not. When ATEEZ heard all the news about how much Antonio has turned the tables with his promises and declarations, and how much serious crimes he committed, that he had a big bounty on his head and also an execution order.

It's been two years since Antonio has been deceiving many, including ATEEZ. Because of non-frequent visits at Mexico, it was not possible to carry out the execution mission of Antonio sooner, but now was the time. And that is why they are here, in the Tavern, disguised as some of the local Mexican men, so that to fool Antonio's men from recognising them. Well, this plan was secret, but one of the men of Antonio, sailing in sea for fishing, saw Destiny(ATEEZ's ship) from far, letting their men know that ATEEZ were here.

The vibe of the tavern party, is something that you adore with your heart. The whole tavern is filled with melodic voices of Vihuela, Accordion, Trumpet, and other instruments. People having glasses of tequila and beer in their hands above their heads, bodies grooving to the music, the dim lighting in the Tavern coming from few of the candles and oil lamps here and there. But, your eyes are trained on one particular person.

A man, buff, wearing only a piece of black jacket, with fringes attached to it, flowing independently on his torso, studs decorating the linings of the jacket. The jacket, doing bare minimum to hide his upper body. You wonder why did he even wore the jacket for? Wearing tight leather pants underneath, a Black cowboy hat on his head, completing his look. A black scarf around his neck and mouth, making it hard for everyone to see his face. But, the way his eyes are just so inviting, so captivating. It's like a Maelstrom is sucking a ship inside of it, and the crew can do nothing but see helplessly, getting sucked in. Especially, his TITS. More distracting than his eyes. The way his fringe jacket is doing nothing to cover his chest. As if he is just showing, he ‘tried’ to cover up, but well…….

The fact that you can actually tell he is Pirate. As a dealer yourself, you've had quite the experience dealing with pirates. And, pirates can be easily recognised by the sword wounds, types of tattoos, their build, rough-torn hands scratched by the splinters of the heavy ropes that they heave, and more other things.

Basically, you figured it out that pirates are already here, blending in with the crowd, wearing Mexican costumes and accessories to blend in with the crowd, mostly covering their faces. The way they are swaying to the music, as if they are pre celebrating their revenge victory over Antonio.

As, they are grooving to the music, you can't help but continuously scan him, the way his body moves to the music, the way his muscles flexes when he raise his hands up in joy. You can't help but feel the need to touch that body of his. Also, the tequila you had, slowly has started to kick in your nerves, making your grow more bolder and risk everything just to have a chance with him. Chugging down the last sip of your tequila, you join the dance.

Without wasting time, you get straight to the point, dancing a little too close to him, almost all over him. But in a way your back facing him. It doesn't takes long for him to study your moves and spins you around by your arm almost making you collide with his chest, his hands goes straight to your lower back, holding you while without wasting time your hands are on his chest, finally feeling the contours of his buff chest. So round and heavy in your hands that you forget dancing for a moment. But his hands on your back, helps you get back to the beat, moving you along the music. Without anything else in your mind, you start dancing, moving your body along with him. It was as if you were not following the rhythm, but you were following him, following the way his body moved.

Your hands were all over his torso, but not for much. Your hands were itching to go lower and sooner you were tugging on his pants and belt. Caressing his upper thighs. He got the hint and finally he spoke, mouth over your ear, even though he was wearing mask, you could still feel the warmth.

“Tu nombre, bonita?” (your name, pretty?) He asked.

It was quiet funny because he was purposefully speaking in Spanish to keep his disguise on. But, you just laugh at it.

“You are good at Spanish.”

His brows are furrowed, not quiet getting what you meant.

“Ofcourse, because I live here!”

You roll your eyes, you get that they have a mission, but it's still funny for you. Also, letting him know that you know him is dangerous move, because he is Pirate after all, he can kill you right away if you slip.

Eventually, his hands starts getting lower, now on your hips. Your bodies a literally pressed together. Oh, how bad you wanna take that scarf off his face. He literally smelled like tequila, some intoxicating herb, and sweat. He was taking over your mind.

‘If I don't get fucked by thus man right now, I might go more Feral.’ Thus was your thought process at the moment and you unknowingly grind forward on him. It was as if your body decided to do it on it's own. Not sure if he'd like it or not, String of ‘Sorry's’ come out of your mouth. But, his grip remains firm on you.

Rather, he buries his head in crook of your neck. He whispered,

“Seems like, you will make me do, what I am not supposed to right now.”

Goosebumps all over your body, you exactly knows what he means. But, you want him to do, exactly what he is not supposed to. So, you swirl your hands more on hiUs body, especially his tits, and you feel how his nippels perks up in some seconds. It's the limit for him.

Holding your wrist he drags out out of party. One of his men see him, stopping him to whisper something in his ear.

“What are you doing? It's not the time.” He says.

“Don't worry, I'll be right back.” He assures the other man with a wink.

He takes you to one of the storage rooms, at the back of the Tavern.

As soon as he closes the door, he wastes no time in pinning you to the door, taking his scarf off and kissing you. Open mouth from the start, he was so desperate to have his mouth on you. So rough that, you were constantly falling out of breathe. His both hands cupping your cheeks, shoving his head in yours. Tongues inside each others mouths. But you pull him away because you didn't get the chance to see him properly.

You were already drowned in his eyes, but now that you see his full face you are mesmerised. You are seeing such a handsome pirate for the first time. The moles on his face, sharp features, the scar on his lips is like the cherry on top. (Imagine Toji's scar)

You don't wait to kiss the scar on his lips, slowly, licking it, he is surprised but soon takes control, biting on your lower lip again and again, now hands on your hips, massaging them, which brings out a moan from you.

“Fuck, your moans are so pretty. Can't wait to hear you moan my name.”

“Then tell me what's your name.” You cock an eyebrow at him. But, it can't beat the perfect smirk on his face.

He drags you to one of the tables in the room, bending you immediately. His hands work on your long skirt, pulling it down along with your panties. You are shocked by his speed. You wanted to get fucked so badly, but he was more into this business than you. While at the same time you removed your shirt. But, as his hand comes to your clit, a long sigh leaves your mouth. Making your legs shiver. It's been a long, very long time. He rubs on your clit, later getting to your folds. He is surprised.

“Oh look, how wet you are already.” You can hear the squelching sound from his rubbing on your folds. But, your legs are not wide enough for him. So he spreads your legs with his own, making your entrance easier for access.

“Hmm, that's more like it.”

He enters one of his finger in your hole, getting a yelp from you. His finger just continues to enter you more and more. You saw his fingers were long, but they feel longer inside you. When he starts thrusting his single finger inside you, it's already numbing your head. You lay your head on the table, cheek flat on the surface.

“Oh fuck-” is all you can say.

“It's just the start, bonita.” He says sliding in another finger. You moan, the feeling is too amazing that you bang your fist on the table. You back was arching, giving him the best angle. He comes down to reach your ear.

“You are a mess, just on my finger. What will happen when you take my dick?” He chuckles right over your ear, sending goosebumps right to your pussy. But, it was a mind blowing feeling when he started scissoring inside of you, as if your pussy would explode anytime with pleasure.

You can hear the sound of the shuffling, he unbuckles his pants, removing them halfway down. Palming his cock through his boxers, he throws his head back, with the thought that next minute his cock will be inside you. He is getting you ready to take him, thrusting his fingers harder on you. It almost feels as if you'd come on his fingers already. But his motion stops. Finally removing his boxers, he strokes his hard dick, spreading his pre cum all over his length.

He spreads his both fingers that are still inside you, making your hole wider, which makes you scream in both pain and pleasure. He rubs his cock on your folds, using your wetness as lube. It's already too much for you. He comes down to you again, to whisper in your ear.

“Oh, and my name is San, in case you need to moan.”

He goes back again, now slowly pushing his cock in. You can hear him sigh loudly.

“Gosh, one of the tightest pussy I've had in a while.” This had you already clenching around him.

After a moment he starts moving. “Fuck San. You- you are too big.”

His thrusts are shallow at first, but sooner he starts gaining momentum. He starts ramming into you and all you could do is grip the table for your dear life. If this keeps going on, the table is gonna leave scratch marks on your stomach. You can hear him groan from behind.

“Ah, San….San fu- fuck.”

“You enjoy getting fucked like this, don't you.” He scoffs. He knew the power he held on you. The loud noises of skins slapping on each other, the squelching sound of your pussy, his groans everything was so overwhelming. You turn your head a slightest bit to get a view of him, and oh! The way his chest is fully covered in sweat, his hairs sticking to his temple because of sweat, droopy eyes. Oh! How much you wished that you kissed him right now and roamed your hands in his hairs. This position was amazing but you wished it was more convenient, also, your legs can give out at any second. He seemed to have noticed that.

“Is this position causing you trouble baby?” He whispers in your ear.

“You wanna see me better? Wanna see how I fuck you?”

All you could do is nod.

“Very well! Then let's switch. You will stand up for me, right baby?”

Nodding, he removes himself from you and you sigh at the feeling of emptiness. But standing up you face him and the next thing you know he lifts you up by your hips and sets you on the table.

Spreading your legs wide by his large hands, he lines up his cock on your clit. Pecking you quickly on the lips he said.

“Let's get this done. Okay?”

He enters you again and your head falls in the crook of his neck. It's just you are not used to his size. The most beautiful man you have ever fucked. How much you wished he stayed around for much more or you could get to see him more. The sudden urge to mark him yours raised and so you started leaving hickeys on his neck and chest as he pounded in you.

But, when he unexpectedly traced the long scar on your torso, it made you visibly flinch. Something that you considered as your biggest flaw.

“A scar, this long, as if you were scraped by a sword.”

“Hmph, yeah. It was a sword.”

“Who would do this to such a beautiful lady like you.”

You take a deep breath.

“M- My father.”

“Why?”

“Be- because I am doing my w- work by going against him. So he tried to kill me because, he- he thinks I am his competition.”

“How insecure he can be. But, it's okay baby, no one can hurt you when I am here.”

The way he speaks, it makes you cling more to him, to rely on him. He is a complete stranger with no business in your pain, but he still assures to protect you. Now is the time. You can tell him what you want to, right at this moment. This can be, he can be your chance of fleeing away from here. And so you finally say it.

“S- San, I know where the key is- the key to Antonio's grand safe.”

He couldn't believe his ears that he stopped his movements.

“What are you saying?” He is purely confused.

“I know you are from ATEEZ, and I know you are here to revenge Antonio.”

He shaked his head, still believing this was fake.

“This fuck so good, I am hallucinating.” He said, trying to make sense of the situation.

“No San, I will help you get to the safe and locate Antonio.”

“Why?”

“Because I want justice too and wanna flee away from here.”

He scrunched his eyebrows, not knowing which question would get him all of the answers he needed to know. So he asked.

“How do you know about all this? Who are you?”

“Because, I am Antonio's daughter.”

The room is dead silent. His grip tightening on your waist. You just wish this doesn't go downhill. But, when he starts to move again, you yelp sudden thrust. His head in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him smile.

“I decided to fuck right women, I guess?” He scoffed. The way all of the weight from your shoulder vanished.

“If I didn't approached you, this moment would have never happened.” You reply to him, and he laughs.

He slowly increases his speed, coming to the climax. His thrusts are fast and deep, trying to reach as far as possible into you. This had you moaning loudly, into his ear, moaning his name, which is driving him more crazy.

“Shit- San, I am close.”

“Do it, cum for me.”

After few more thrusts, you both hit your climax, cumming into you, he hit a few more thrusts to ride out both of your highs. Removing himself from you, he gets dressing shortly while you lay back on the table, exhausted from the sex.

After he is dressed, he helps you get dressed, shocking you, because you didn't expect him to help you. You thought he would rather ask for the key and Antonio, and get back to his team. He notices you expression.

“What? Don't you wanna get ready, we have a mission.”

‘We’, oh! How you hope this ‘We’ remains forever.

Later, that night, they were able to get the key with your help, and get back all of their money. The remaining money, that neither ATEEZ owned nor Antonio, they rained that money upon the town at the dawn which rightfully belonged to towns’ people, later capturing Antonio, tying him up, and throwing him in middle of town's Square, letting people decide his fate, which they did by beating him up, submitting him to the government, leading to his public execution. No matter how bad he treated you, he was still your father, you still felt bad. But now you had nothing you can call yours in the town, and San knew it. He offered you to join Destiny, Ateez's crew, and you accepted.

You are standing in front of the ship and the man you are going to spend the rest of your life with, him, offering you a hand to step on the ship, him and his crew, Welcoming you aboard, to start a new life.

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