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mv1simp · 3 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 large, warm palm. You flushed again as he raised it to his lips, leaving a gently 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.

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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 · 1 month 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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vexwerewolf · 2 years ago

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The thing is, D&D is not a game.

I know that sounds insane, but hear me out: D&D is not a game, it is a games console. You don't actually "play D&D." You play "Dragon Heist" or "Tomb of Annihilation" or "Ghosts of Saltmarsh" or "your GM's homebrew campaign" or "the plot of Critical Role Season 1 reconstructed from memory" on D&D.

For quite a long while now - possibly literal decades - D&D hasn't even been the best games console, but it's been "the one everyone knows about" and "the one my friends have" and in fact it's "the one whose name is almost synonymous with the entire medium of TTRPGs," like how "Nintendo" or "Playstation" could just mean "games console" to people who didn't understand games consoles. They might not have heard of a "tabletop roleplaying game," but most people have heard of "Dungeons & Dragons."

For this extended metaphor, D&D is Nintendo back in the 90s, or Playstation in the 2000s. Sometimes you say "oh let's go to my house and play Nintendo" or "c'mon dude I wanna play Playstation" but you're not actually playing Nintendo or Playstation, you're playing Resident Evil or Super Mario Bros or Jurassic Park or Metal Gear Solid or whatever on a Nintendo or a Playstation.

Now, this metaphor is going to get even more tortured, but remember how when the PS2 and the original X-Box came out, they used a standardised DVD format, but the Nintendo console in that generation, the Gamecube, used discs but they were this proprietary tiny little disc format that they had control over? That essentially meant that it was really difficult to make third party titles for the Gamecube that did literally anything that Nintendo didn't want them to do, and also essentially gave Nintendo an even greater ability to skim money off the top of any sales?

So that must've seemed like a smart business decision in their heads. But the PS2 and the X-Box used DVDs. This was a standardized format which gave Microsoft and Sony way less control over who made games for their consoles, but that actually turned out to be a good thing for gaming, because it meant that the breadth of games that you could play on their consoles was massively increased even if some of them were games Microsoft and Sony didn't really approve of. (Also it's worth nothing that the PS2 and the X-Box could just play DVDs, which meant if your household was on a budget, you didn't need a separate DVD player - your games console could do it for you! This was actually a huge selling point!)

What Wizards are currently trying to do now is kinda-sorta the equivalent of Sony suddenly announcing that the PS5 will only accept a proprietary cartridge format they hold the patent on, will control the content of and charge money for the construction of. This possibly seems like it could be a moneymaker in your head because you hold market dominance (apparently the PS5 has 30 million units shipped compared to X-Box Series X 20 million units) and so many people make games for your console, but what it actually means is game devs and publishers will abandon your product. If it takes so much more work, the scope of what they're allowed to do is so much more limited and they're going to make less money off of it, they just won't bother. They'll go make games for the X-Box or PC instead.

To use another computer metaphor, D&D is Windows - it might not be the best system but it's the system most people are familiar with and so it gets the most stuff made for it, but there's is an upper limit on the bullshit people will take before they decide fuck it and get an Apple or learn how Linux works.

TTRPG systems are a weird product because you're not selling people a game, you're selling people a method to play a game. All the actual games are created by the community - even prewritten campaigns needs to be executed via a game master. Trying to skim money off the community will mean they'll eventually give up on you.

#open gaming license #dungeons and dragons #ogl #ogl 1.1 #opendnd #wizards of the coast #one dnd #d&d #dnd #tabletop gaming #tabletop roleplaying games #ttrpgs

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totothewolff · 8 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.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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.

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

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teezersfics · 7 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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transformers-spike · 1 month ago

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Yeah separately because that is. A whole can of continuity-hopping-worms that I’m not ready to open. I just want to bang the old men!!!!!!

As the pole dictates, I'm going for Alpha Trion in his alt mode. Consider this a prequel to Solitude. Will I ever do the TFA Ultra Magnus soft femdom? Probably someday, I already started writing it.

“Okay?” he asks, muzzle pressed against your cheek. There’s a slight mechanical warble to his words, but the English is nigh impeccable. It’s been a few months and he’s already grasped more than you did studying German for three years. His pronunciation has rapidly evolved, going from techno dial up noises to something almost human if not for the digitized waver in his voice. For someone so huge, let alone made of metal, he’s awfully gentle with your squishy human body. You kiss his snout, sending a wave of crackling energy to his horn and tail. “Yeah, I’m good, no need to fuss over me,” you say with a smile on your face.

You climb the last steps of the human-sized stairs up to his bed. The fabric is notably similar to a non-sticky gym mat, uncomfortable to sleep on, sure, but manageable when your goal is to get your rocks off. There’s no time for a strip-tease when he’s been insistently brushing his muzzle against your sex for half an hour, purring poorly translated but no less sweet praises. Naked on all fours, feeling all kinds of vulnerable in this new position, you brace yourself on your arms, arching your back to show your ass in what you hope to be an attractive display of your goods. Your heart is pounding in your chest like you're teenager waiting for "dessert" after a date , and no matter how many times you do this, he makes you feel like an utter virgin. He props himself over you, half standing on the bed, half on the ground; his hands (or paws if you want to get technical) pressing into the soft mesh of the mattress. Yes, he could fall down and crush you. But you trust him not to, because if none of the Primes have, there's no way in hell the chillest member is going to put an end to your life when he has the focus and self-control to create near-perfect sand replicas of your ships.

“Ready?” he asks to be sure, to which you reply with a quick “Yep!” and push against his panel. The feeling of his snug cock brushing over your sex and stomach sends a fire to your loins. The pace is slow and passionate, member languidly (and carefully) stroking sensitive nerves that make you shudder with delight. The blue fluid coating your thighs is warm and welcome next to the chilly air. His vents breathe excess heat onto your back, and you barely get the chance to thank him between moans when he finds the perfect angle to make you lose it. You grip onto the bed, ass up, face down, bucking against him pathetically. Ah, dignity. It’s been months since you lost her. “Like this?” he asks again, angling his head to catch an awkward glimpse of you under his frame. You give him a thumbs up and cheekily reply “I need you to fuck me like I owe you money.” A bit too jokey of an answer, because now he’s looking at you like you just spontaneously grew an extra head. “Yes,” you confirm, “like this.” He complies immediately, maintaining the perfect (and probably uncomfortable in his case) angle, pressing against your sex so pleasantly your knees are shaking. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, crying out his name as you’ve done many times before, legs buckling underneath you. He doesn’t seem to mind having you rest on his member, and he leaves you a few minutes to collect yourself before he pulls away and transforms back into his normal form. You roll over and spread your arms out welcomingly when he reaches over and takes you into his hand. Then, he sits back down on the mattress with you in his palm. “May I?” he inquires for the final time, gesturing at his hardon, terribly polite for someone who sounds like he’s on the brink of losing it from sexual frustration. “Please do,” you answer with proverbial popcorn in your lap, stroking your sex as he starts pumping his member.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers one #tf one alpha trion #tf one alpha trion x reader #alpha trion x reader #alt mode interfacing #valveplug #finding good gifs for him is a pain in the ass #i wish i had the energy to make gifs on my own

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anonymouscheeses · 7 months ago

Text

Drew my favorite! Sammy is the best I love her character smm >:3 she's also become more relatable with the problems she's been ignoring in episode 3! So I might kin her more now but thats fiine... I haven't watched past ep 3 SO NO SPOILERS ON THIS POST TY!!

AND THEN MY PRECIOUS BABIES 😭 YASAMMY FOR LIFE‼️ UGH IM SO GLAD THAT THEY ARE ACTUALLY CANON IT MAKES ME TEAR UP! BROOK IS SHIPPING THEM EVEN IN DEATH 😍 I CANT BELIEVE SAMMY SAID YAZ IS PULLING AWAY FROM HER?? NONONO IM NOT READY FOR ANGST. ESPECIALLY BETWEEN THEM TWO?? NOO!!

Anyway since I haven't watched the entire show I'm gnna theorize real quick heheheh

SO. The dinosaurs are definitely being controlled by someone but who? I'd say kenji's dad but I'm not sure, I kinda forgot what happened to him 😭 he's still alive tho right? So I wouldn't put it off the table but it could also be Dr. Wu or whatever tf his name is I completely forgor abt him. Anyway to the stuff im actually interested in- BROOKLYN. SHES DEFINITELY ALIVE. RIGHT?? (Don't answer that) THERES NO WAY THEYD KILL OFF THE BEST CHARACTER RIGHT??? THERES NO WAY. PLUS THEY ALREADY RECASTED HER IN THE FLASHBACKS(btw I think the voice is pretty good! Idk if people have complained abt it yet but if they have... shut up??) SO WHY WOULD IT MATTER TO KEEP HER DEAD? THATS A WASTE OF MONEY PLUS. PLUUS. idk. I just kinda want her alive bro.... SURVIVE BROOKLYN. SURVIVE.

Also Yasammy marriage proposal one day? Please? 🗣🔥🔥

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sugudoe · 7 months ago

Note

saw ur headcanon itch and wanted to scratch it

headcanons for new boyfriend gojo, toji or nanami?! 💞

damn im kinda in luv with u for sending this so quick, or whatever…

so, for new boyfriend i’m guessing recent relationship, right? cause i like the way you’re thinking, so let’s go.

ps: i try to make things normal, but i always create a plot, i’m so sorry (i’m not).

GOJO, TOJI & NANAMI AS NEW BOYFRIENDS. ⋆.˚

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: foul language / sexual innuendo on toji / reader has no gender.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

──── ✎ ° ⋆ GOJO SATORU, the helpless fool in love.

First of all, Gojo as a new boyfriend is a different person than Gojo as a boyfriend of many years, for the simplest reason of he does not not how to be a one. He knows how to be a friend or best friend, not to be biased by my own ships (stsg) but I don’t think Gojo is the type of guy to fall for a stranger — he needs connection, thrives of being know.

Your relationship with Gojo as best friends is quite normal, he acts as a child, you scold him for it, and one day out of the loop of normalcy, he catches himself eager for your judgmental stare and scoff. And you also notice how his mischievous smirks and absolute terrible pranks are always on you. You are the one to notice his crush, so you flirt back.

Enters the shocked Satoru, because canonically he gets no bitches, even if he is gets a lot of attention (from middle school girls) and has a cocky personality.

Your first date started terrible. I’m so sorry to be the breaker of such news, but as said before, Gojo doesn’t know how to be a boyfriend. He thinks that everything in life can be easily scripted, not noticing that you, as his best friend, doesn’t need to be impressed.

So, Satoru keeps telling you about his grande missions (forgetting you were there, fighting as good as him) or funny jokes (that you helped him make). He gets nervous when you kindly point it out, but you’re sweet with him, grabbing his hands and taking control of the talk, him following your lead. It kinda becomes a little something in your relationship, when Gojo gets lost, you light his way.

Soon, his nervousness goes away and you’ll be back to having your best friend, that now kisses you from time to time (all the time).

──── ✎ ° ⋆ FUSHIGURO TOJI, the one who finally wins a bet.

Toji is the type to use dating apps and swipe right for the girls that pose with nice cars, or in trips all over the world — he wants to have a girl with money so he can gamble more, he is not a good boyfriend material, sorry.

But you are no dating app type of girl (sometimes you slip, but that’s unimportant). You’re just a hitman, that Toji catches talking with Shiu, he tries to hit on you, and you hit him, with your fist! It’s a match!

He is pissed off but not as much as he is intrigued. You have money, he knows that, but don’t get him wrong, your right hook send this man into a spiral of thoughts, he is already begging for you.

You know of Toji, his name spreads like wildfire in your line of job, he is a murderer and a bit crazy doing his work and way of spending his earning, but his looks outstanding him a lot. So, you make a bet, he stop gambling for a year, and you give him a chance.

You knew this was never going to happen, an addicted don’t stop so quick, and you barely see the guy. You think you are not an effort to be made.

Shocking the whole population and making gamble games loose a comically large quantity of money (he really will me missed), Toji keeps his word and now he is coming to make you pay for yours — a date is set!

As a new boyfriend, Toji needs to be reminded he is in a relationship. Sorry to say it, but it takes him four months to delete his dating app, he wasn’t using it, but it never clicked in him to do that. Toji also very much dates at home for the sole purpose of not leaving the room, you have to threaten him lots and lots for the guy to remember restaurants exists.

He sucks at first, but he is good at what he does with you, so you keep letting him get away with his slack of boyfriend duties, until you give him an ultimatum.

Now, remember that one year Toji kept himself busy with work and no gambling? You can say he has a large amount saved, and to shut your pretty ass up, he is spending with you — he takes you to Korea, buys whatever you set your eyes on, restaurants every day and bed bagging on the wall every night.

He is an asshole, but he can do a pretty job when his lovely partner threatens him.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ NANAMI KENTO, the one who fumbled first.

Nanami Kento is like the prize of life. Not to make a man the center of yours, but you can’t say you are not winning when this hunk of a male specimen who treats women with respect beyond the minimum is yours.

Women, men, everyone is fighting for him. You remember very well the eyes burning you whenever he was talking with you, specially Gojo’s six, prior dating.

Nanami is the set in stone exemple of how to be a perfect guy. But let’s make one thing clear, he did not liked you at first. Not because sometimes you can be weird like Satoru, is because he terribly wanted you, but he hates the idea of dying and you as well — both sorceress.

Contrary to popular belief and shocking a whole nation, Nanami Kento fucks up pre dating, ladies and gentleman. He shows up one day at job saying he is going on a date with a baker from his favorite shop.

You slip a few tears before moving out of the room. He sees them, and he hates himself for it. You both were almost dating, that’s why it hurts.

That night, while crying and eating ice cream and watching “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days”, Nanami Kento knocks at your door, and soon as you open, he is kissing you. He never went to the date, he could never want anyone but you.

Your relationship, despite all of this, starts wonderfully. This man worships you, he makes sure you know how much he loves and care for you, there is no space for insecurities because he is filling everything with his love — you’re drowning in Nanami’s affection.

There is too many dates, too many flowers, too many trips. And this man does not work a lot, he hates to work, the clock hits his hour and he is out the door (curses get eliminated quickly). He is always coming home to you, no one can stop Nanami from falling into your arms.

As a punishment, he is forbidden from going to his favorite bakery — he doesn’t mind (he misses the onion bread so much).

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk nanami #jjk toji #toji x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #toji fushigro x reader #nanami kento x reader

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team7-headquarter · 1 year ago

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ABOUT THE POLITICAL IMPLICATIONS OF THE LAND OF THE WAVES ARC, THE ACTIONS OF TEAM 7 AND WHY ITS ONE OF THE BEST ARCS OF THE ENTIRE FRANCHISE:

I'll never shut up about the Land of the Waves arc.

Here are the facts:

A corrupted man —who was believed to be the richest man in the world due his shipping and transportation business— decided he wanted to make his a small land made out of islands, better known as the Land of the Waves.

In Tazuna's words: "Nami No Kuni (the Land of the Waves) isn't a real prosperous land. Even our local lords are poor..."

The name of the corrupted man is Gato. He was affiliated with drug trafficking and contraband, as well as being a criminal who employed gangs and teams of shinobis to help him (through violence) to take over companies and countries alike. That's what he did to the Land of the Waves, taking hold of all the marine transportation and their shipping industry. Since the Land is made of a number of islands, Gato successfully isolated them. He was now the owner of the local economy and had the power to decide how people lived there.

Tazuna is an old man with no money at all who had been tasked to be the architect and overseer of the new bridge. If completed, it would mean that Gato no longer had absolute control over the Land of the Waves. It'd free them all, bring more movement to their economy and stop the crazy violence promoted by Gato's gangs.

To make sure we all understand the severity of the mission and the power of Gato, let's remember that he employed Zabuza Momochi.

Zabuza is one of the Seven Ninja Swordmen of the Hidden Mist. Kirigakure was known for one of the cruelest traditions regarding shinobis: they'd have to fight each other to death and only the survivors would be promoted. Zabuza put an end to it himself, killing an entire year of graduates. He was not even a student yet.

Zabuza also plotted a coup against the Mizukage, but he was betrayed. He became a rogue nin after that, taking money from men like Gato in order to keep living.

That's the first Team 7 mission.

Sakura, Naruto and Sasuke are staked to help Kakashi free a land of a corrupted businessman and in the process have to fight one of the most legendary shinobis they can encounter out there. We're talking about an entire small nation!!! We're talking about the insane irony of Zabuza being a rogue because he fought against the corruption of his own Hidden Village, and he lost and now he has to work for a man doing the same to others.

The first Team 7 lesson was not only to work as one, to value their teammates, but to question the world around them. Kakashi told them to not follow orders blindly and the narrative throws the Team on a mission to test it.

Kakashi accepted to continue the mission without telling the Hokage anything. He knew he had the jinchuriki and the last Uchiha with him, that it was a great risk, but he accepted because he wanted to help Tazuna and the Land of the Waves and he knew Tazuna had not enough money to pay for a class B mission. Hell, he was lucky Kakashi got a genin team. One of the best jonins of the Hidden Leaf could give his service under the disguise of a rank C. Kakashi was using a loophole to disobey orders and he complains the whole time in his head because he knows it's gonna be a mess of a mission, but he does it anyway.

Do you want to know why is my favorite arc?

The reality of the Land of the Waves is a perfect scenario to force Team 7 to wake up. Naruto and Sasuke sure know loneliness and misery, but they were also part of a very rich land and a powerful Hidden Village. Sakura didn't go through anything like Sasuke or Naruto, which is worse in the sense that she was more naive than them.

Their world falls apart when they meet Haku and Zabuza, when they realize this is not s fairytale of good heroes and bad villains, but people who had to become violent to survive.

Like Kakashi said, the only reason he and Zabuza are trying to kill each other is because they were paid to do so. Zabuza works for Gato, Kakashi for Konoha, that's it. Kakashi didn't want to kill Haku and Haku didn't want to kill any of them, but the Naruto world is old and messy, the customs and the means to survive are others.

Shinobis are no heroes. They're mercenaries, they act as the military force for the strongest nations. They are tools and weapons. It's not advanced in any sense, so many years after the Warrant Era and the world was just as cruel and wild. People with kekkei genkais were forced to practice that violence to protect themselves, like Haku, Sasuke and Neji. People with bad luck like Naruto and all the jinchurikis were the same. People like Sakura, who loved and cared for those others, devoted their lives to joining the fight, to try and protect the ones dear to them.

That's why the final conversation of Team 7 —the one after the events of the bridge that ended with Zabuza and Haku dead— went the way it did. The members of Team 7 weren't happy with the reality of the shinobi life. Naruto even ended up saying that he would make his own ninja way, basically denying such reality and promising to break the traditional ways that kept all shinobis chained to violence, fated to kill each other.

Just look at it:

Sakura: ... But still... Master Kakashi...

Kakashi: Hmm~~?

Sakura: ... I can't help wondering. Were those two right about what a ninja should be?

Kakashi: A Shinobi shouldn't be concerned with a reason for her own existence... It is important merely that we exist as a tool for our homeland to use in whatever way they need. That's as true for us in Konohagakure as it for any ninja anywhere else.

Naruto: Is that really what becoming a full-fledged ninja's gonna be about? I don't like the sound of it!

Sasuke: Do you really feel that way, master Kakashi?

Kakashi: Well... No. And that's why all we ninja live our lives with that ideal always bubbling beneath the surface of our minds, disturbing us. ... Like it did Zabuza ... And the boy.

Naruto: That's it. I've made up my mind! I am going to create my own nindo— my own ninja path. My own destiny!

This arc plants the seeds of what should be the rest of Naruto and Naruto Shippuden. Team 7 is frustrated and they don't agree with the tradition. None of them, not even Kakashi. Naruto promises to be the change, to make his own destiny.

Sadly, it doesn't happen. The manga changes its tone halfway through. Naruto ends up becoming part of such tradition and he ends up being the fated reincarnation, the chosen one. His destiny is not his exactly and his own ninja path gets lost in the way, replaced by a hollower desire to become Hokage. Naruto doesn't evolve to deeply question the order of his world or his society.

Instead, Sasuke occupies his place and the story turns him into an antagonist (someone who wants the direct opposite of the protagonist, someone who is on the way of the protagonist to reach his goal). The story radicalizes the dream that was so innocently spoken in this chapter. It also ends up chaining Kakashi to the same system, uses him as someone to fill the Hokage role until Naruto is old enough and then gives Naruto the hat, forgetting the themes set on the Land of the Waves arc.

What started as Team 7 fighting corruption and people sick with power while trying to help the victims of the system, understanding that their world is made of greys and not moral absolutes, ends up becoming a kids tale of ninjas = heroes and aliens = villains. All the complexities of politics get softened by Black Zetsu's manipulations and Kaguya's existence.

It wouldn't be a reach to say that the Land of the Waves belongs to a very different type of manga, one that never got its continuation.

#naruto #land of the waves #land of the waves arc #naruto meta #Naruto classic #team 7 #og team 7 #team kakashi #kakashi hatake #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #zabuza momochi #haku yuki #naruto gato

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mcflymemes · 8 months ago

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STAR WARS: EPISODE IV - A NEW HOPE (1977) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

uh... everything's under control. situation normal.

this will be a day long remembered.

in my experience, there's no such thing as luck.

i have you now!

let's blow this thing and go home!

great shot, kid, that was one in a million!

look, a few minutes ago you said you didn't want to just wait here to be captured. now all you want to do is stay?

he doesn't like you.

it's a wonder you're still alive.

no reward is worth this.

i'm surprised that you had the courage to take the responsibility yourself.

the more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.

screaming about it can't help you.

i see your point.

i wonder if he really cares about anything, or anybody.

what is it? some kind of local trouble?

i have the death sentence on twelve systems.

this little one's not worth the effort.

i sense something.

should i have your ship standing by?

you don't believe in the force, do you?

i've flown from one side of the galaxy to the other. i've seen a lot of strange stuff.

there's no mystical energy field that controls my destiny.

the force will be with you, always.

how did my father die?

if there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet that it's furthest from.

i don't know what all this trouble is about, but i'm sure it must be your fault.

you watch your language!

we seem to be made to suffer. it's our lot in life.

either i'm going to kill her or i'm beginning to like her.

aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?

the force is strong with this one.

i fear something terrible has happened.

we had a slight weapons malfunction, but... uh. everything's perfectly all right now.

we're fine, we're all fine here now. thank you. how are you?

we're sending a squad up.

we're doomed.

it's not over yet.

i ain't in this for your revolution, and i'm not in it for you.

i expect to be well paid. i'm in it for the money.

use the force, [name].

i find your lack of faith disturbing.

this bickering is pointless.

hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side.

look, your worshipfulness, let's get one thing straight. i take orders from just one person: me.

give us a few minutes to lock it down!

who is this? what's your operating number?

[name], we're gonna have company!

you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. we must be cautious.

let me see your identification.

you can go about your business.

move along.

my ship has fallen under attack.

this is our most desperate hour.

you're my only hope.

i've gotta get home! it's late! i'm in for it as it is!

i'm getting too old for this sort of thing.

look, i can't get involved. i've got work to do.

it's all such a long way from here.

evacuate? in our moment of triumph? i think you overestimate their chances.

we have no weapons!

you're far too trusting.

i recognized your foul stench when i was brought on board.

marching into a detention area is not what i had in mind.

that's what i'm afraid of.

this is all your fault.

i don't know who you are or where you came from, but from now on you'll do as i tell you, okay?

surely he must be dead by now.

i have something here for you.

there was nothing you could have done.

#rp meme #mcflymemes #rp memes #roleplay memes #rp prompt #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #star wars #a new hope

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perfectsunlight · 6 months ago

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[04] NEW BEST FRIEND

warnings: none

AUGUST 2028

jane ivory kim rarely got upset. but when she did, it was always for a good reason.

“i’m not going.” the teenager shook her head in disbelief. jieun sighed sympathetically, knowing she had no control in the current matter, but still wanting nothing more than for her granddaughter to be happy.

“jane,” jieun said softly as she gently reached and put a hand on the other girl’s knee. “it’s what your mother wants.”

cat-like eyes flashed with frustration and almost utter annoyance. “but she doesn’t even know what i want. she barely knows anything about my life. all my friends are going to apgujeong high school, and she wants to ship me off to some snobby all-girls school?”

jieun knew that the only thing to cause the docile girl to become irate was her mother.

her heart ached at the truth in her granddaughter’s words. she didn’t entirely support jennie’s decision, but she knew that she had no say in it otherwise. “i know, sweetheart. but your mother thinks this school will offer you the best opportunities.”

ivory clenched her fists, her knuckles turning the same shade of her name. “opportunities for what? to be alone? to be around girls who don’t care about anything but money? if that woman likes it so much, she should go herself.”

the older woman’s shoulders deflated. recently, the teenager had been referring to her mother as anything but her mother. as inherently rude as it was, jieun couldn’t argue against jane’s choice.

“it’s an international school, maybe it'll be good for you to meet some new people.” jieun suggested, trying to find a positive note. ivory’s shoulders slumped forward, knowing she couldn’t argue with her grandmother for something that wasn’t in her control.

“are the uniforms pretty at least?”

—

jieun descended from the stairs to see her granddaughter tightening her necktie. the uniforms were very elegant, and the older woman couldn’t help but smile. “you look very intelligent.” ivory shifted her gaze from the living room mirror to her grandmother. she shot the woman a playful eye roll before adjusting her blazer. it was navy blue, tailored to fit perfectly and adorned with the school's emblem on the left breast pocket. the white blouse beneath was buttoned up neatly, the collar peeking out just above the blazer’s lapel. her pleated skirt, also navy blue, fell just above her knees, paired with white socks and polished black shoes.

she tugged at the hem of her skirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. “at least it’s comfortable,” she remarked, trying to find a silver lining.

jieun smiled, stepping closer to adjust a stray strand of hair behind ivory’s ear. “you look beautiful, sweetheart. you’ll do great.”

the teenager gave a small nod, glancing back at her reflection. the uniform was indeed elegant and gave her a polished appearance, but it also felt like a costume she had to wear to fit into a role she didn’t choose.

with a deep breath, she picked up her school bag, its weight a reminder of the day ahead. “i guess i better get going,” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

jieun’s eyes softened with understanding. “are you sure you don’t want your mother to give you a ride?” jane quickly shook her head with a smile. the only reason the older woman asked was because she and jennie were going to paris for fashion week.

and although a ride to school would be nice, jane felt that keeping her pride was the better option.

“enjoy your vacation, grandma.”

—

the walk to school was only 20 minutes, but each step felt like an eternity. however, upon approaching the school’s front gates, it was evident that the world she was stepping into was one she’d never truly been in.

sure, her family had money. but jane liked normal things. she liked her normal friends and her normal life without the pressure of her mother’s status. as she walked through the pristine, manicured grounds of her new school, she felt a pang of longing for the simplicity she had left behind.

inside the main hall, echoes of footsteps and snippets of conversation bounced off the walls. some spoke of their parent’s cars, others mentioned their latest vacation, and some were simply taking pictures with their friends.

the brunette almost bumped into a few girls who were clearly rushing to get to their classes. she narrowly avoided collision, but still knew that she’d have to keep her eyes up because it still was the first day.

her classes went by slowly, and even though jane didn’t speak more than four words in the past four hours, she was already sick of it here. lunch time was her chance to finally have a moment to herself. she scanned the dining hall, glancing at the obvious cliques at each table.

naturally, she decided to check the bathroom to see if it was empty.

unfortunately, she was met with a group of girls taking photos and the smell of cigarettes. one of the taller girls looked over at jane with a confused look. “do you need something?” she asked while her friends whispered to each other.

“who the hell is that?”

ivory opened her mouth to say something in return, however she knew better than to entertain such antics. she quickly bowed and mumbled an apology before quickly leaving.

she was making her way to check outside when suddenly, a girl hurrying in the opposite direction collided with her, causing jane to stumble backward. the girl's water bottle slipped from her hand and splashed across jane's chest.

“sorry!” the girl exclaimed while still running in the opposite direction. the younger girl sighed, trying to maintain her composure despite the cold water seeping through her uniform. “seriously,” she muttered, though her tone betrayed a hint of frustration. she wiped at the damp spots on her blazer with her sleeve, trying to salvage what she could.

she could hear the small snickers of her peers around her, but the idol’s daughter decided to simply ignore it. jane wandered outside, rubbing the back of her neck and taking a seat on the steps to the entrance.

the sun warmed her face, providing a brief respite from the cool dampness of her uniform. she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

footsteps approached, and jane opened her eyes to see a taller girl with a kind smile standing in front of her. she had a gentle demeanor, her eyes curious yet empathetic.

“rough day?” the girl asked, sitting down beside jane on the steps without waiting for an invitation.

jane managed a small smile, appreciating the small conversation. “you could say that,” she replied, glancing down at her slightly damp blazer.

the taller girl’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “new here?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. jane simply nodded, feeling a sense of relief at this new friendly demeanor. “yeah, just started today,” she admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

the ravenette nodded understandingly. “well, welcome to the academy,” she said warmly. “there’s good things here, i promise.”

jane chuckled softly, appreciating this attempt to lighten the mood. “good to know,” she replied. the stranger turned to rummage through her bag before handing jane some tissues. “here, this might help.”

jane accepted the tissues with a grateful smile, touched by the thoughtful gesture. she dabbed at the remaining damp spots on her blazer, feeling a bit more composed now. the sun overhead cast a warm glow, and the quiet chatter of students around them created a soothing backdrop.

“thank you,” jane said sincerely, meeting her eyes. “you really didn't have to do that.”

the other girl waved off her gratitude with a smile. “it's no problem at all. we've all been there, right?”

ivory nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the girl despite just meeting her. “yeah, i guess so,” she admitted, realizing she felt more at ease talking to her than she had with most people at the academy so far.

“so, where are you from?” the other girl asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

jane hesitated for a moment, unsure how much to share. she had always been cautious about revealing too much, especially about her background.

“seoul,” jane replied finally, deciding to keep it vague. “what about you?”

the stranger smiled, seemingly content with the answer. “same. what program are you in?”

“music.” ivory smiled as she watched the other girl’s face light up. “really? me too! we’ll definitely have classes together then.”

“oh i almost forgot,” the stranger continued before she rummaged through her bag again. she pulled out a roll of kimbap. “here, you must be hungry. don’t worry, i made extra.”

jane’s smile widened at the sight of the food. she took it gratefully, mentally reminding herself to pack her own snacks next time. “thank you. i’ll bring you something tomorrow.”

the taller girl grinned warmly as jane accepted the roll of kimbap, her eyes crinkling with genuine friendliness. “you're welcome! i hope you like it,” she said cheerfully, clearly pleased to have made a small gesture of kindness.

jane nodded appreciatively, unwrapping the food and taking a bite. the flavors of the seasoned rice, vegetables, and savory filling were comforting and satisfying. “mmm, this is really good,” she complimented, impressed by her new friend’s culinary skills.

the other girl beamed at the praise. “i'm glad you think so! i'll definitely look forward to what you bring tomorrow,” she replied, her tone light and friendly.

after finishing lunch, jane glanced at the stranger with a grateful smile. “thanks again for the food and for being so nice to me. it means a lot,” she admitted softly, touched by this stranger’s kindness.

the ravenette waved off her gratitude with a gentle laugh. “of course! it's nice to have someone new to talk to,” she said warmly. “oh, i should’ve asked for your name.”

jane chuckled and stuck her hand out for the other girl to take. she had a feeling this would be the start of a genuine friendship.

“i’m jane, nice to meet you.” the girl took her hand and shook it firmly, eyes still beaming with excitement. she also felt like she was about to make a new best friend.

“eunchae. hong eunchae.”

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TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60

OPEN! COMMENT BELOW THE MASTERLIST TO BE ADDED

#jennie kim #blackpink #lesserafim #angst #kpop angst #original series #jisoo kim #roseanne park #lalisa manoban #kim chaewon #ivory #perfectsunlight

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jkriordanverse · 3 months ago

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Candy Salad trauma dumping but it's The Crows + some others

Wylan: Hi i'm Wylan and when my dad found out I was dyslexsic he tried to get me to learn how to read and when that didn't work he tried to kill me in a canal. Oh, I brought M&Ms *dumps in bowl*

Kaz: do I have to do this? This is mandatory? Okay...

Kaz: Hi i'm Kaz and when I was nine my dad died in a plough incident and my brother and I had to move onto the streets and we got scammed by this ugly, demonic, terrible-

Nina: hurry up

Kaz: who took all our money and my brother died. I brought Sour Patches. *dumps in bowl*

Nina: Hi so my name is Nina and when I was training as a Grisha i accidently wandered where i wasn't supposed to go and I was hauled onto a ship full of racist and cruel men who probably were going to kill me. I brought Trolli btwwwwwwww :D *dumps in bowl*

Inej: Hi i'm Inej and when I was fourteen I was captured by Slavers and sold into a pleasure house where I was supposed to work at the Menagerie as an "indenture" but turns out she actually charges you for food and drinks and everything so there was actually no way outttttttt unless you become rich which is also impossible because she takes that away and beats you up if you keep anything gifted away from her. I brought Skittles. *dumps in bowl*

Jesper: Hi i'm Jesper and when I was young my mother died using her Grisha powers to save a girl so my father discouraged me from using my powers and when I was fifteen I left to attend university in Ketterdam but then I got into ✨gamblinggggggg✨and joined a gang because Kaz saved me from getting beaten up. Oh, and I have ADHD. I brought Nerds. *dumps in bowl*

Matthias: Hi i'm Matthias and when I was young some Inferni killed my family so i joined the druskelle and turns out they were also really really bad and i got locked into prison for some time where I was forced to fight against a holy symbolism of my religion. I brought marshmellows. *dumps in bowl*

Kuwei: Hiii bitches I'm Kuwei and when I was 15 or so i was captured and my father was killed on the frontier and later I got taken away by Fjerdannnnnnnssssss where I was taken as prisoner and forced to pretend I had a drug to enhance and control Grisha powerssssss. I am Grisha btw LOLZ. Also I brought Haribos. Hope you like it.

Zoya: Hi my name is Zoya and when I was a kid I used to try and gain her affection by giving my shares of food to her and studying extra hard but then when I was nine she tried to sell me to a man over triple my age. I brought kit kats. *dumps in bowl*

Genya: Hi i'm Genya and this creepy weird dude called the Darkling gifted me to the queen when I was young and I caught the king's attention and i got sexually abused because turns out he was a pedophile so i started rubbing poison on my body to poison him but i was on the wrong side- I brought jellybeans. *dumps in bowl*

Bonus: Zoya: Hi my name is Zoya and when I was a kid I used to try and gain her affection by giving my shares of food to her and studying extra hard but then when I was nine she tried to sell me to a man over triple my age. I brought kit kats. *dumps in bowl* Genya: Hi i'm Genya and this creepy weird dude called the Darkling gifted me to the queen when I was young and I caught the king's attention and i got sexually abused because turns out he was a pedophile so i started rubbing poison on my body to poison him but i was on the wrong side- I brought jellybeans. *dumps in bowl*

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castingspellsanddaisies · 3 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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kallie-den · 2 months ago

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Rescue Hound Chapter One

Kione Monax, a mercenary pilot, is hired to rescue the captured, brainwashed Sartha Thrace. But getting her home and healing her mind prove to be very different things - and Kione's feelings for the hero threaten to pull her into the darkness when she discovers just how malleable Sartha can be

A new Warhound story!! The preceding stories can be found at this tag

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

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Nothing makes Kione Monax feel good the way being saddled up in the cockpit of a huge mech suit does.

Cause it pays really, really well. Duh.

Provided you’re the best, of course. Kione doubts any of those fifth-rate Imperial grunt pilots they never seem to run out of get paid more than a pittance—not that they’ll ever live long enough to spend it, if she’s the one they’re up against. But Kione? She’s the best. Nowadays, at least. And that means she can name her damn price and the rebels will pay it, no matter how sour the looks on their faces when she comes to collect.

It’s not all about the money, obviously. Kione would be the first to admit that there is a very clear and distinct pleasure in being the very best. To ruling the battlefield like a queen. To tapping into the merciless rhythm of combat, and feeling the beat change when she decides it’s the moment - the moment to kick her Theaboros’s reactor into the red and soar, allowing herself just a single moment to drink in the stupefied, upturned, defeated faces of her prey before she puts them out of their misery.

Fuck, it’s good. It really gets her hot.

But it’s not better than money, because money was what had bought her the Theaboros and its wings, and its state-of-the-art systems, and its fresh coats of paint—for vanity, although sometimes she lies and calls it ‘branding’—and all the fancy drinks she buys for the very best hookers before she buys them too. That’s what life is all about. Not principles. Lots of people get big, stupid ideas in their heads once they’re sitting behind the controls of a sixty-foot mechanical god. If your ideas are big enough and stupid enough they start calling you a hero, and Kione is very, very determined not to end up as one of those. They always die bad.

That’s how scumbag mercenaries like Kione wind up as the best.

Hey, merc, comes a terse voice over a shitty, crackling radio, just as Kione finishes planting the charges, you better be in position.

Kione sighs quietly to herself before she answers: “I am. Plan B is in place.”

Good, says the girl on the radio. Get ready. And remember: no work, no pay.

Kione rolls her eyes. Why do people always feel the need to remind her? Contrary to popular slander, mercenaries aren’t cowards or turncoats. Any mech-for-hire who pulls that kind of shit just saw their very last payday. And besides, Kione refuses to help out the imperials. Just out of self-interest, of course—there’s no place for free spirits like her in the kind of world they’d like to build. She’s bloodied their noses more times than she can count, and you’d think that would win her some actual gratitude from the rebels she fights alongside.

Hell no. Kione had fought with unit after unit, recruit after recruit, and each one proves to be just as naively idealistic as the last. They all think they’re put here to save the world, and they hate that Kione knows she’s only here to make some hard cash. The girl barking orders at Kione over the radio is one of those. An idealist. A firebrand. She’d flashed Kione a nice, mean look before they’d shipped out. Stars in her eyes, hell on her lips.

Kione knew then and there she’d have to fuck her, once they made it back. It wouldn’t be hard. Girls like that always went for her once they saw first-hand how good she was. She went for them, too. She just loved to make them choke on her.

She’s here. Cut the chatter. Everybody focus.

At once, Kione lets go of her sleazy fantasies and gets herself back in the zone. Not for the first time, she wonders about the targets. How many? How well-equipped are they? Guess she’ll find out soon enough. Not that she can see shit right now, hanging from the underside of this colossal bridge.

It’s a good place for an ambush and a great place to get yourself killed if a thousand tons of reinforced concrete come down on your head before you know what’s happening. That’s why Kione’s there. That’s the truth of mercenary work: you get the real shit jobs. The ones they don’t expect you to walk away from.

Suits Kione just fine. She’ll groan and grumble until they pay her double, then prove she’s worth every penny.

For now, though, there’s only waiting. That gets to Kione the same way it does to every soldier. Eventually, her mech’s sensors pick up vibrations. Footsteps on the bridge above. Another machine. A pretty big one, too—but only the one, which prompts some serious fucking questions. Who the hell are they ambushing here? A high-value target, clearly. Maybe an imperial higher-up. But those don’t fly solo. A pilot, then? Some ace? It’d have to be. Kione can’t think of any other reason they’d pay her fees for a gig like this.

It has to be someone good. Someone only she can beat.

Kione finds herself grinning.

More waiting. The target is moving slow. A nice, steady march. It gets closer, and closer, and closer, until Kione can hear each step; can feel them reverberating through her body. Until the enemy is directly above her. The enemy mech’s footfalls are heavy and almost familiar. Despite everything, Kione is all but bursting with anticipation. She loves getting to put a rival ace in the dirt. Nothing better. But she knows she needs to be patient. She’s not the first wave. She’s the coup de grâce.

The radio crackles again. Now! Open fire!

An instant later, the air trembles with the report of a dozen guns. The rebels scattered themselves across the bridge, each pilot picking their ambush spot to secure kill zones and neutralize cover. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The rebels don’t have a lot of advantages over the imperials, but this is one of them: they’re good at this kind of guerrilla shit. As the barrage wears on, Kione’s grin starts to slip. She’s beginning to think they won’t need her after all.

Then, one by one, the guns go silent.

Kione can pick out each machine as it goes dark, just from the sound. No two rebel mechs are alike; consistent supply and production lines are a fleeting fantasy so each machine is somebody’s pet project, customized according to parts and needs. That makes it all too easy for Kione to count.

One down. Two down. Three down.

What the fuck?

It’s hard to believe, but Kione can hear it happening. Up above, the enemy mech pounds the bridge with its footfalls. That thing must be moving like a hound out of hell, dodging beams and missiles, throwing itself at one rebel after another. Its engine is deafening; an insane scream of tortured metal and unholy combustion that fuels the carnage. Screaming is just about all Kione can hear over the radio, too. The rebels’ comms discipline has broken down. They can’t make sense of how fast it's gone wrong.

Merc! Where the fuck are you?

That’s her cue. It’s the moment—and with a worthy foe, too. Kione can’t stop herself laughing nastily into the radio as she retracts the anchors keeping her attached to the bridge and slips into freefall.

And again, when she punches ‘startup’ on Theaboros’s flight system.

Mechs can’t fly, yeah? Everyone knows that. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense. You want to fly, you get in a plane. You’d need a stupid amount of thrust to get something as big as a mech suit in the air. A big engine won’t help. The tyranny of the rocket equation will murder you. Weight means fuel, fuel means more weight. The aerodynamics would probably be shit too. And that’s not even getting into the economics problem. Nobody can spare that much reactor fuel for just one machine. The best way to square the circle would be to build the entire thing out of some kind of crazy cutting-edge superalloy, but those are hell to get and worse to maintain. No; a flying mech would be a ridiculous vanity project. The imperials would never sanction it, and the rebels could never afford it.

Good thing Kione Monax has never worked for free a day in her life.

It helps that she built Theaboros smart—or at least, paid other people to. It’s a slender beast; tall, upright, almost human-like in its posture. It weighs a fraction of most of its rivals, and so when it spreads the six sleek, silver pinions mounted on its back, Kione can actually feel them catch the air. Every little helps when you’re fighting gravity.

But what really, really helps is the state-of-the-art antimatter reactor surging to life and pumping out a steady stream of anti-Fermion particles that singe the air around her mech a deep, unearthly red as they annihilate and, for just a fraction of a second each, keep the fundamental forces of the universe at bay.

With that on her side? Fuck yeah, Theaboros can fly. And Kione falls a little more in love with it every time.

It flies now, with her gripping the joysticks, gliding the unnaturally nimble machine between cables and tresses as she boosts clear of the bridge’s superstructure and tilts up, pulling a tight loop that brings her down onto the deck, ready to give her target the surprise of a lifetime.

Except, no.

Kione is the one left with her jaw on the floor when she sees who she’s up against. All at once, she realizes she was wrong before. It’s not someone only she can beat, because it’s the one person she never ever managed to beat, in all the long evenings they spent sparring together.

It’s Sartha.

It’s Ancyor, anyway. Or most of it. Actually, it’s more like Ancyor died and came back wrong. The base frame is still there; Kione can tell as much from that dragging, lupine gait as it lurches across the bridge. The exoskeletal armor is the same too. If anything, it looks even more beat to hell than usual. But beneath that, it’s all wrong. The reactor. The weapon systems. The raised, pneumatic hackles that augment those deadly claws. They’ve all been replaced. Upgraded. Imperial tech. It gives Kione the creeps. It’s like someone’s wearing her dead friend’s skin.

Whatever they’ve done to it, it’s clear Ancyor has lost none of its effectiveness. In its terrible, wake, Kione counts four of the mechs she shipped out here with lying in shattered, ugly heaps. They went down bad. Catastrophic kills. If anything, it looks like Ancyor’s pilot took special pleasure in plucking out and crushing each cockpit. That really gives Kione the creeps. Even Imperial pilots usually don’t sink that low.

At least she knows it’s not Sartha in there.

Unsurprisingly, the remaining three rebels have gone to pieces. They’re backing away, giving up the only tactical advantages they have—prepped positions and unit cohesion—and the radio channel is full of little more than panicked screeching. The squad leader, the girl who was barking at Kione earlier, is trying to instill some kind of discipline. It’s not working. She’s too young. They all are.

Take her down, damn it! she yells, when she sees Theaboros land. This is what we’re paying you for.

“You got it,” Kione mutters.

In all honesty, she’s weighing up the pros and cons of simply hitting the bricks and running. But she reminds herself: this isn’t Sartha. Just a pale imitation.

And besides, there’s money on the line. Duh.

In any case, the choice gets taken away from her when Ancyor turns its awful snout in her direction and starts barreling toward her.

“Shit!”

At once, Kione kicks her mech’s flight system into high gear. She manages to get enough thrust to pull up and clear—but only just. Ancyor is even faster than the last time they fought. Kione wheels around in the air to find her target, extending and clasping her long spear in Theoboros’s right hand. Once the weapon is deployed, its tip starts glowing red-hot as her systems reroute surplus reactor heat. Kione would prefer to keep Sartha’s hellhound at a comfortable distance, but CQC is the only good way to finish a fight sure and quick.

As soon as Kione sets her sights, she realizes that Ancyor has already turned to look up at her. Silently, four openings appear in its torso. An instant later, four wire-guided harpoons are coming right at her.

That’s new. Fuck.

Two of them, she manages to dodge. One, she bats aside with the flat of her spear blade. But the fourth, kept on target by tiny thrusters, buries itself in one of Theaboros’s long, slender legs. That’s not good. The damage itself is fairly negligible. What’s not negligible is Ancyor’s massive weight as it pulls the wire taut and starts reeling her in.

And, at the same moment, launches itself into the air with enough force to crack the concrete under its feet.

Kione’s display is filled with warnings she’s pretty sure she’s never seen before. She dismisses them with a furious gesture, but all she sees on the viewscreen afterward is the ruin of Ancyor’s face coming at her at an insane speed. No time to cut herself free, and no aerial maneuver Kione can think of is going to make a damn bit of difference with another mech weighing her down like an anchor.

So, stupidly, she does the only thing she can think of: she points her jets in the opposite direction and blasts herself straight down toward Ancyor.

Fifty feet in the air above the bridge deck, two meteors collide.

Ancyor has sheer mass on its side, but Theaboros has gravity and thrust. Kione is no rookie; getting her head knocked around in the cockpit isn’t going to ruffle her. She’s focused on what counts: getting this damn dog off of her.

It’s not easy. Ancyor is scrambling all over her, its wickedly sharp chain-claws working to find purchase. It’s clear whoever’s behind the controls knows Sartha’s style. They want to keep the two mechs bound together, grappling, where Ancyor’s sheer savagery makes it invincible.

All Kione can do is wield her long, elegant spear like a brawler’s stick, keeping it between them, leveraging them to try and force Ancyor away. Unfortunately, Theaboros isn’t great at this kind of contest of strength. It’s just not built for it. Desperately, Kione uses the flight system’s jets to throw the two of them into a series of loops, heads over feet, hoping the g-forces will destabilize the beast.

Of course, it’s just as likely that what happens is that Theaboros goes down face-first into the bridge.

Splat.

But maybe it’s working. Ancyor is starting to peel off. The harpoon comes loose and one of its arms slips, windmilling through the air. Kione presses the advantage, wrenching her spear around to make Ancyor’s grip untenable. After one last lunge that goes clean past her shoulder, Sartha’s mech is sent tumbling back down to earth where it belongs.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Kione grins. Get down, dog. The sky is all hers.

Then she notices the warning lights. She stops grinning as she realizes that last lunge didn’t go clean past her shoulder at all. It hit exactly where it was meant to. It ripped off one of her goddamn wings.

Ah. Well, that’s really not good.

Theaboros isn’t dead in the air. At least, not quite. But the thing about wings is: however many you’ve got, you probably don’t wanna be on less than that. Lest she choke her reactor to death, Kione is forced to ease off and touch down on the bridge. Once her baby has cooled off, she should still be able to pull off a trick or two.

Merc? You still breathing?

Kione’s glad radio girl is still here. Judging from the guns Kione hears, her surviving squadmates are too. Maybe they can still do this.

“I have a name, you know,” she grunts.

Yeah? Get us back to base in one piece, maybe I’ll think about learning it.

Kione cackles at that. She likes a girl who can keep her head.

“You can buy me a drink instead,” she tells her. “You already know my name. If you’re not careful, I’ll make you say ‘please’ when you use-“

She cuts herself off when she sees what’s about to happen.

Kione never takes her eye off the ball, but it’s taken her a moment to stop seeing white. Now that she has her sights on Ancyor again, she’s realizing it’s not nearly as debilitated by its fall as she’d hoped. It always was freakishly tough. And it’s doing the worst thing it possibly could. Worse even than coming at Kione again while her flight system’s cooling down.

It’s going after the easy prey.

In a single bounding leap, Ancyor hurls itself at the rebel currently spray-and-praying it with ineffective beam fire. The poor bastard freezes up, and Ancyor lands squarely on their shoulders.

It doesn’t need weapons. Its weight does the work. Even Kione flinches from the crunching sound.

No!

It’s radio girl. So much for keeping her head. Maybe she knew them well. Maybe it’s just one loss too many. Either way, because she’s one of those rebel idealists, she’s doing the brave thing. The stupid thing.

Breaking cover. Trying to save her comrade.

Idiot. That’s exactly what a predator like Ancyor wants

There’s some distance between the two of them, but nothing Ancyor can’t cross in the blink of an eye. It’s happening half the bridge’s length away. Theaboros has a rifle, but the stopping power is nowhere near enough. Kione can already see exactly what’s going to happen. Radio girl is going down. No chance her last squadmate sticks around after that happens, which leaves Kione trapped in a one-on-one. Not good odds.

So, the right move is obvious: ditch. Now. The mission’s a bust. Losing Kione’s pay is better than losing her life. As long as she takes off right this second, she should be able to make it out clean.

All she’s gotta do is outrun the other rebel, right?

Kione sighs. It’s an easy choice. But here’s the rub: she really was looking forward to that drink with radio girl.

So much for letting the reactor cool.

As Theaboros throws itself forward at her command, Kione punches the reactor straight back into the red. The thrust alone has her in the air; Kione works the flight system with a master’s touch, pitching her machine slightly off-axis to compensate for the wing she lost. It’s a rough ride. Her baby’s running too hot. The wingtips are starting to disintegrate. Antimatter annihilation’s a bitch. Kione doesn’t want to think about how much the repair bill’s gonna come to this time.

Instead, she just grins.

You thought your ride was fast, Sartha? Think again.

Ancyor lunges. Radio girl is right under its outstretched claw. Theaboros is hurtling toward them at a truly unwise speed. In the cockpit, Kione is rattling around like crazy—but she doesn’t let up. She only has a fraction of a second. No time to shoot, no time to strike, no time to parry. Only time to do something dumb.

Theaboros rams into radio girl shoulder first, shoving her out of the way. She raises her left arm in a feeble bid to fend off their attacker. The impact with the rebel mech wreaks havoc on Theaboros’s frame.

And then Ancyor’s claws rip her arm off.

Shit.

No time to take stock of the damage. No room to get her balance. No heat overhead to spend on a boost. Ancyor just keeps coming. It switches targets to Theaboros without missing a beat. Kione stumbles back just barely out of reach, wheeling her spear in a furious series of parries and ripostes.

Not furious enough. Nothing’s as furious as Ancyor. It matches Kione step for step, blow for blow. Only a matter of time until one of them lands home. Kione grimaces. At least radio girl is free and clear—not that that’s worth much. Can’t get paid if you’re dead, and she’s sure starting to feel dead. Theaboros has taken up too much damage to put up an even fight.

Kione snorts, despite everything. What, is she making excuses for herself?

That’ll look great on her tombstone. Kione Monax: it wasn’t fair.

It stings that it’s not even true. Now that she’s at the right distance to get a good look at Ancyor, it’s plain enough that it took a fierce beating in the rebel ambush. Radio girl’s crew wasn’t so bad after all. They took some mean chunks out of its armor. All over Ancyor, clouds of leaking coolant hiss and exposed electricals crackle. At least one or two major servos are missing. It must be handling like a pig right about now, but it’s moving like nothing’s happened. Whoever’s behind the controls is just that good.

Which begs the question, doesn’t it?

Who the fuck is piloting that thing?

Sartha Thrace is dead. Kione made her peace with that a long time ago, and she has no time for stupid rumors. But now she can’t help but wonder. Who else could handle Ancyor like this? From their sparring sessions, Kione recognizes all the little trademark moves. Hell, the only reason she’s lasted this long is because she has a sense of Sartha’s cadence. It’s like she’s fighting her friend’s ghost.

No, not her ghost. Something worse. Sartha was never quite like this. Never quite so heedless of herself. Never so proud she wouldn’t simply retreat from this kind of ambush. This animal ferocity—Kione has seen it before, but it was always a rare thing. It came over Sartha only when something drove her to her very limit. This pilot? It’s like she’s got all of that side of Sartha, and nothing but. Her rage and violence, distilled. Purified.

A shiver runs down Kione’s spine. It’s so wrong.

Merc?

That’s her radio girl. Kione rolls her eyes. She’d been hoping the rebel pilot would just run. If both of them die trying to save each other, she’s gonna throw up. That’s just too much.

“You clear of the bridge?”

Yeah.

Thank the gods.

Her distraction almost spells her end. Theaboros is driven yet another step backward and almost trips off the side of the bridge. Kione glances behind. She’s out of space. Shit. Shit! There has to be something left. Kione knows it. She feels it. This can’t be the end. Not of her. Not yet. She’s too good. There has to be something.

A plan B.

Oh, right.

Kione checks her reactor. Flight still isn’t on the menu. It’s gonna be ugly.

“Radio girl?” Kione calls out, as Ancyor brings its claws up for an overhead blow. She raises her spear to meet it. Sparks fly as the weapons meet.

Who- yeah?

“Plan B. Blow it.”

To her infinite credit, radio girl doesn’t hesitate, which means Kione only knows it’s happening when the ten thousand-ton reinforced concrete bridge under her feet suddenly isn’t.

In desperation, Kione throws herself over the edge. A drop is one thing. But getting crushed? That’s what’ll kill you. Unfortunately for her, the bridge is already falling. She can’t kick off cleanly. Best she can do is scramble at asphalt and rebar that’s quickly turning into little more than dust while she overboosts her flight system as far as it’ll go.

It’s good enough—almost. For just a moment, Kione thinks she’s threaded the needle. She’s going to glide clear.

Then Ancyor comes flying at her one last time.

How it managed a leap like that, Kione will never know. The way it screams as it comes at her almost stops her heart. It gets close. Way too fucking close. But Kione manages to wheel her machine around, kicking its legs up and out of Ancyor’s reach.

Not the wings, though. It gets another one of those.

That’s bad. Extremely bad. Kione suddenly realizes she ought to have been more appreciative of only being down the one wing.

Mercifully, Ancyor falls away and disappears into the bridge’s wreckage at the base of the valley. That’s a mercy. But Theaboros isn’t much better off. Spitting smoke and almost completely out of control, the best Kione can do with it is a crash landing.

But hey, any landing you can walk away from. Right? And Theaboros can still walk. It just can’t do anything else.

Kione lets herself throw up in the cockpit. That’s a first.

A minute or two later, while she’s slowly picking herself up, radio girl comes skating down the wall of the valley. Her mech is a bit shit—common enough, for rebels—but it looks a damn sight better than Theaboros right now.

Holy shit, radio girl calls out. You’re alive! You… you saved me.

She’s got that naive awe in her voice, like she’s talking to some hero. Kione frowns. Can’t have that.

“Don’t get used to it,” Kione retorts gruffly. “You die, who’s gonna make sure I get paid? Duh.”

She senses radio girl bristle a little, but it’s not quite enough to penetrate that thick coat of rebel sincerity. Thank you, Kione, she replies earnestly.

Even though it almost makes her throw up again, Kione laughs thickly.

“Told you. You already know my name.”

Now she senses the other pilot blushing.

Well, shit, radio girl says after a moment, as her mech’s head turns toward the ruins of the bridge. We really fucked this up. I don’t know how I’m gonna explain this to command.

Kione happens to disagree with the ‘really fucked this up’ part of that assessment. She happens to think she pulled off a goddamn miracle, actually. But then, she still doesn’t know what they were really after. Who they were really after.

Wait, radio girl says slowly. Is that… oh gods, I think that’s her.

Before Kione can ask, she’s dashing for something she’s spotted in the wreckage. Kione makes Theaboros limp after her. When she spots it too, her eyes go wide.

It’s Ancyor.

It’s almost in one piece. Almost. Tough son of a bitch. Kione half-expects it to come roaring at them again, but once radio girl shifts the bridge pylon that landed on it, she sees that Ancyor has finally given up the ghost. It’s not beyond repairs but the torso is cracked open like an egg, leaking oil and worse in a steady stream. Looks like the protection systems deployed OK, at least.

Which means the pilot might actually be alive.

Sure enough, as radio girl peels away one half of Ancyor’s ruined cockpit, Kione sees her—and for the first time, she’s completely and utterly lost for words.

Lying there, battered and bleeding and unconscious but very definitely alive, dressed just like usual except for what looks freakishly like a fucking muzzle strapped to her head—is Sartha.

Sartha Thrace. The hero. Kione’s friend.

“She…” Kione splutters eventually, overcome. “But… how did… all this, just for…”

Yeah, radio girl answers. All this was for her.

There’s something in the rebel’s voice. Something at once sorrowful and unbearably hopeful. Kione has never heard anything quite like it. But, uncomfortably, she realizes it was in her voice too.

She’s the objective. We’re bringing Sartha Thrace home.

---

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#story #Warhound

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