#The Prestigious Fuck-Up Club

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

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Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere manager who was never gonna let you get famous.

Nsfw for this one! MDNI!

Warning for noncon/dubcon!

Yandere manager who holds a high position in a prestigious entertainment company. He works with so many prolific stars, so he's surprised that your pitiful little portfolio ever even made it to his desk. You've got no experience, no connections, and you're not exactly industry standard in terms of beauty.

Yandere manager thinks it's kind of funny that a cute little thing like you thinks they can make it in such a cutthroat industry. he's kinda curious about what you're like though, so he calls you in for an interview. He can't help his large, sleazy grin that forms on his face when you sit there in his office stuttering through an introduction.

Sure he'll hire you, but you've gotta get on your knees.

Yandere manager feels a sick thrill run up his spine as he goes over contract details while your pretty little lips are spread around his cock. Your eyes are filled with tears, and he can feel your little whines and sobs vibrate in the back of your throat, and he groans. He has to admit it, you've got that special something about you that certainly has him captivated.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a deal, sweetie," He grunts out playfully and signs his name as he forces your head down further and came down your throat.

Yandere Manager who only books you for enough gigs for you to justify staying with him. He makes you fuck him whenever he asks, and whenever you want an actual job, you have to do something more extreme to get it. A modeling gig? Yeah sure babe. You've just got to dress super slutty and let him take you in the middle of a crowded club.

Yandere Manager who rails you violently whenever he catches you trying to network. He bets you think you're so smart and clever for chatting up some pervy, old director to get a spot in a music video. Does he not give you enough? You don't need all that attention unless he's giving it to you. You don't even know how many people are gonna wanna bury themselves in that tight little hole of yours, how many people would take advantage of you. At least with him, you knew what you were getting.

You're fucked so thoroughly, and Yandere manager loves watching you stumble around after he's stuffed you full of cum. He's started making you wear plugs afterwards just so he can watch the discomfort on your face as he takes you out shopping or for meals.

Yandere manager starts to feel a bit fond of you in not just a carnal way. As much as he loves seeing your cute little asshole twitch and stretch around the toys he pushes in you, he also likes seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. He likes the way your eyes light up when he allows you to do a photo shoot. He starts liking the way you shudder and squeal when you orgasm, too.

He's not a sappy guy by any means. Really, he sucks. Even he knows that, but maybe now that you've got his initials tattooed on your plump, well spanked ass cheeks, he can start making you like him too.

He's gross, and he knows it. But he loves fucking you so much he can't find it in himself to care. I mean you're not going to get away when he's got you coming back to him with the promise of success that he's never ever gonna let you have. Not for the risk of his favorite, cute little fucktoy leaving him.

[aemondsbabe]

Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

“Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

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[hai7ani]

Main masterlist | cw smut, objectification, story happens when reader is still a sex worker (details of reader's experiences working in the field is included), read at your own risk

The way you love me (be my baby)

i.

Sex with Rindou is different, you think.

He's not like the other men who pays you money for a quick fuck, or even booking the whole night with you on special occasions that they decide to splurge on drugs and sluts at the club.

They slap you around like you're just some toy meant for their pleasure. A lot of them share one bad habit in common, you notice 一 that they like leaving their wet condoms on your thigh after they finish, never bothering to dispose of it in the bin, and sometimes even going as far as snapping a quick photo of you despite the club's T&C's and against your will.

You're quick to learn that this is all you're worth for. You're fast to drill it in your head, accepting the fact that you are simply just a girl put into this world for sex and pleasure. A worthless toy that anyone gets to play with if they simply have some money or enough influence to get a membership for such prestigious club owned by a reputable organisation.

That's all you are to them: a toy.

But to yourself?

You're not exactly sure on what you are.

Nights are lonely in your room even when you're surrounded by people.

It's men, most nights, but there'd also be a few older women who'd visit the club every once in a while. Lonely, yearning women who are just as empty as you on the inside, aching to feel something 一 just anything at all 一 in their hearts. You can see it clear in their orbs the second they get to feel your touch on their skins 一 a kind of void in their eyes that you don't think you can fully understand, but could still relate to in a way.

Sometimes many men would also come together and loom over you as you cry. Not from pleasure, but from pain. They are always very harsh and demanding with you.

And as always, you didn't think that sex would be any different when you come face to face with a man in a seemingly very expensive suit waiting for you in an equally expensive hotel room. Long, lilac bangs fanning over his brows and he's a bit tanner than the rest. He has bored, doe eyes that turn bright as soon as they land on your figure playing with your fingers by the door, piercing bullets into your wavering soul as you stand before him and introduce yourself as a replacement for Sakura-chan.

And when you finally dare to look up into his eyes when he doesn't reply a word, nor a simple response to your introduction, you manage to recognise him very swiftly.

He's the owner of the club that you work for. Basically your boss, and the bigger boss of Freida.

Haitani-sama.

You hadn't expected for him to be so... quiet, and soft as a person. He's silent when beckoning you over with a hand from the edge of the bed, and still is when pulling you even closer to himself, placing his palm so warmly on the back of your thigh. His touch is demanding and at a place of absolute power, but he isn't abusive with it. His purples are bold, strong, and pinkish lips stained with wine slowly curling into a small smile while he gaze so deeply into your wide, glossy eyes.

You don't really remember much about your first time meeting him.

You remember talking with him, touching him as per your job's demands, and suddenly you find yourself straddling his hips, hands gripped tightly onto his shoulders while you pant and mewl into the air, cheeks flushed and your head thrown back, as he pistons a few thick fingers into your pussy, occasionally bumping and rubbing your clit with his palm so sweetly under the hem of your long dress and he's kissing down the valley of your breasts.

You've always thought that sex is meant to hurt.

But it is different with him together.

Every night when he returns and somehow chooses you each and every single time, you finally get to feel something in the empty shell that people call 'a heart'. It burns like gasoline in your chest when you feel it coming, but it is something that you find yourself longing for so feverishly on the nights he isn't visiting.

He asks for your legs to fall off his hips 一 to let yourself go and simply enjoy the moment with him 一 and he never hits you for pleasure like what you're used to being treated. He likes fucking in doggy, but always ends the night slow with missionary because it's what you're more comfortable with 一 based on your body language that he'd read through like an open book the first night with you.

He lets you cum as many times as you want, even going as far as making you use your big girl words to ask for it sometimes.

He gave you a voice 一 something that you've never got to have for yourself, and he lets you use it as much as you want with him. As loud as you want.

He never tugs on your hair or pulling your head back and forth whenever you have him in your mouth. It's degrading, and men tend to enjoy it a lot. But he doesn't do that very often, you notice 一 doesn't seem very into the whole blowjob or mouth-fucking thing despite the extreme pleasure he feels, and prefers having his dick inside of you and getting you both off with it.

You like that it's this way with him, that there is never any pain on your end. Guilty as charged, you treat it as an escape sometimes, even though you know damn well that you shouldn't be getting too close or intimate with a paying, returning customer.

Not to mention that he pays really well, too 一 always giving you way too much for your services, and never stealing photos or leaving behind his trash like the others always do either.

You come to learn fairly quickly that his first name is Rindou. Before this piece of information that he'd handed out to you way too early in your exchange, you've only known of him as Haitani-sama. Sometimes you'd call him Sir out of habit, but he prefers that less to Daddy. He fucking loves it, too, actually, and sometimes you'd resort to calling him just that for the whole night because you're not too sure on what else to say.

And sometimes he'd even request (or more like demand, considering that he's the fucking boss of the club you work for) to take you home with him a few nights, and when Freida-baba (all the girls in the club call her that) tries explaining that maybe it isn't such a good idea 一 since you do have returning customers who have booked the next few nights with you 一 he pushes up the bid with two extra zeros in his payment and watch as her eyeballs fall out of their sockets in amusement, but always with sternest, because Haitani Rindou is a man who always get what he wants.

And she'd agree every single time, because there is no way a woman like Freida would be able to reject so much money from selling just one girl and also saying no to her boss' wish.

The subtle things he does to you 一 for you and with you 一 makes your brain go haywire sometimes. And on some days, you seem to find yourself patiently, yet eagerly, waiting for his return to the club, just to be able to pleasure him again out of your own will.

Hanging around the lobby like a school girl waiting for Senpai to finish playing basketball at the court to pass him a love letter, and always finding chances to knock on Freida's door asking if Haitani-sama will be visiting anytime soon...

You can't help it.

ii.

"You know, brother," Ran places his glass on the table after taking a huge sip.

"That slut you've been seeing一"

"She has a name."

Rindou shoots back almost too fast. His brother widens his eyes a little at his words, but leans back into his seat, expression turning amused when he finds it a good motivation to keep going. He hasn't seen this sight since forever, where Rindou is being protective of a girl he's fond with.

"You've been obsessed with her lately." Ran comments. Rindou only swirls his own drink and watch with bored eyes as the ice melts from the heat, but with an impatient heart.

"She's not good news, you know."

Ran grabs his iPad from the side, scrolling through a few documents through the files app 一 the bright screen reflecting on his face 一 before pausing on one and handing the tablet over to Rindou.

"The girl's covered in debt, head to toe." He juts his chin to the screen as the younger reads through the file. His expression remains the same as before 一 still so nonchalant, still so boyish like a teenage boy who doesn't really care for what his mother says.

"She's only here for your money. Can't think of any other idea on why she's stuck to you like glue." He grins. "And that sweet little smile she's always throwing your way, damn. No wonder you're so obsessed."

It's more of the opposite, really 一 but he doesn't make a refutation to prove his brother wrong. He's stoic when he locks the screen after scanning through your background check, before throwing the device on the coffee table with a soft roll of his eyes, letting out a breath through his lips.

"I know."

Truth is, the man's already had his right-hand run your profile for him since the night you'd first met, after being so enamoured by you that he really wants to know everything about yourself 一 even the smallest details about you that you don't even realise. Rindou is already aware of how deep in crippling debt you are 一 a result of having a father with a deadly gambling addiction since you were just a baby and a mother who's addicted to heroine for the longest time ever 一 that no matter how much money you make in your lifetime selling your body and becoming entertainment for lustful men, it'll never be enough.

"But nii-chan," he pauses to look his brother in the eye. There's daggers in them despite him being family.

"She's my girl."

The grin on Ran's face only grows wider as he swipes away a fallen strand of hair breaking through the gel, after hours of being away from home.

"I'll do what I want with her."

He thinks it's fine if you're gonna break his heart and use him for his money. He has money. And at least he'll know that he'd felt good being with you during your time together 一 getting to dive back into a sweet little romance he hasn't felt in years is something that he thinks he's needed so feverishly this whole time.

"That's alright. But still, I'll have you know," Ran trails off his words to lean forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees to look at his brother, face turning serious.

"Love is an expensive thing to afford for people like us."

iii.

He hasn't been visiting you lately.

It's already been three weeks since his last return to the club, and you've long lost count on how much time you've spent moping around the lobby, pretending like you're cleaning up and assisting them on welcoming clients, when in reality, you're simply waiting to see if it'd be him walking through the glass doors this time.

The first week he stopped coming, you've just assumed that it was simply because he was too busy and drowned with work. You know it isn't easy running a club that sells pussy and bags filled with drugs slid under glass tables on the daily 一 having to constantly worry about the feds and possible snitches in the organisation is not easy work that simply anyone can handle.

On the second week that he still doesn't visit 一 even to the other girls in the club 一 you start to grow impatient and worried that perhaps something terrible has happened to him, considering his line of work. But you still see his right-hand that he keeps close around the venue sometimes, and nothing in particular seems to be off about his boss' lack of appearance recently.

On the third week, which happens to be today, you've resorted to retreating into the hallways and dragging your feet when you walk 一 sometimes peeking into rooms to see if he is perhaps inside 一 hoping that he'll miraculously turn up again like he always do.

You so desperately hope that soon you'll finally get to see him walking through the main door, all suave and handsome, and then you'd get to jump into his arms while he holds you close and kisses you and一

"Haitani-sama, would you like another drink?"

Your feet pauses.

Your head turns, scouting for the source of the voice with shakey eyes and hands一

There he is.

Perfectly healthy and legs spread widely on the expensive sofa gripping a glass of whiskey, a side of his lips curled into a handsome smirk. He's surrounded by people 一 a few men and their women, and一

"Haitani-sama, thank you for choosing me tonight." Sakura-chan giggles so sweetly into his ear, all pressed into his side on the sofa like she means something to him, and he's looking at her in the way you've grown used to being admired at, too.

Something bubbles up in your chest as you watch the scene unfold before your glossy eyes 一 that Sakura gets to be by his side for the night, that he didn't come to see you as promised 一 and it's plainly uncomfortable, to say the least. You don't know what else to say. A sticky feeling you haven't experienced before glued onto the walls of your heart, a chain filled with thorns coiling around your poor, beating flesh, stabbing you as it tightens even more一

You turn around.

It's hard to force a smile when a girl passing through the halls greets you goodnight, but you still manage a weak one for her somehow before walking back to your room, eyes bored into space.

You're left with a silence so deafening and empty when you sit on your bed, palms scrunching up the soft material of your dress as you let out a long breath through your dry lips.

It breaks your heart the more you think about it 一 a feeling so suffocating that you don't know what to do to make it go away 一 as you keep replaying scenes of the nights he'd claim you to be his favourite girl when he'd fuck you so beautifully in his room, limbs all tangled up in the sheets.

A favourite one amongst the many, obviously.

Your eyes water and your heart tightens any more in its confines as you bite on your lip and feel your nose souring up一

Silly you, thinking that you actually mean something to these people.

You're just a replaceable toy.

iv. cw: light daddy kink

You're nose deep into your book on the couch when he finally comes to visit for the night.

"Did you miss me?" His voice is deep, teasing, and smuggled with alcohol when he speaks. His tie and belt are in his hands and a few of his buttons are left undone 一 and he leaves them on your bed when he walks over to you.

You're silent when Rindou stands before you seated on your chair and you shut your book with a harsh pang in your chest.

He smells so much of her that it irks you to the core. A rosey, floral perfume that only one person you know uses on the daily, now covering a man head to toe that you find yourself desperately unable to tear away from.

You hate feeling like this so much 一 so helpless and falling deep into a void 一 but you still push away the ache of your heart and showing him a smile so sweet that you hope he doesn't notice.

You still allow yourself a moment to indulge in his warmth when you melt in his arms as he holds you close. You still cheat yourself into thinking that he cares when he sucks on the spot just beneath your jaw that never fails to make you fold.

You still want to believe that you're different among the rest 一 that you still mean something to somebody, that you're not just a worthless toy that people get to play with when they're bored一

You want to believe that you're lovable, too.

You're just a girl who wants to be loved.

"Mhm." You hum into his neck as a reply.

His touch is electric on your hips when he moves you both to bed, while he lays you down so gently on the mattress with drunk but gentle hands.

You help to remove his suit when he hovers above you and you only reach your neck up to peck him gently on the lips when you're finished.

He's obviously very drunk tonight when you hear the low hum full of want that he lets out when you cheekily move away from his attacking lips, and there's a lot of kisses exchanged between you two when he catches you after that 一 from forehead kisses that shows how much he adores you to sweet little eskimo kisses that feels way too intimate for a relationship like yours, to sucking on each other's tongue as you slowly tangle yourselves together under the blanket.

You feel so, so comfortable wrapped in his arms while he tickles your neck with his nose. It's so warm in here compared to the frigid feeling in your heart when watching the two of them all cuddled up together on the couch一

There it is.

It's clouding your head again.

Your smile wavers a little against his skin and it's harder to act like nothing's ever happened before.

It's hard being pressed under his weight as he sobers himself up by indulging in your kisses, while in reality your mind is constantly flying back and forth between letting things be and swallowing your own heart to excusing yourself for the night to go cry in the toilet一

"Something's bothering you."

You twitch a little at that. Rindou is already staring at you with his eyes half-lidded when your own flicker swiftly back to his figure resting on your chest.

"Hmm? Nothing is wrong, Sir." Your voice is extremely soft tonight, he notices.

And for some reason your response rubs him the wrong way. He clicks his tongue, a bit unsatisfied, and moves himself off your chest to rest on the pillow next to you.

But he still pulls you next to him nonetheless 一 clement hands combing through your locks with his five fingers so sweetly as he admires your pretty face.

"What's wrong?" He pushes you even closer to himself with the hand looped under your neck. "Tell me."

A thumb of his own finds its way rubbing on your bottom lip and you feel so mushy when he looks at you that way again, though you still remain silent at that.

"C'mon, tell me,"

He hands you your voice again with a wide open palm.

"My pretty girl."

And you take it with you.

You embrace it this time.

"I saw you with Sakura-chan earlier."

He sighs through his nose before nuzzling at your cheek, a teasing smile on his lips. "That's what this is about?"

He shifts you both a little when you don't respond, choosing to bury yourself into his neck and sulk. He doesn't force you to look at him, though. Still so sweet when he coos and comforts you by rubbing on your back.

"I didn't fuck her, you know. I was only with her for a couple hours."

You smile. "It's okay, you don't have to explain to me, Sir. I was simply waiting for you to visit again. I was worried, but you're okay."

Rindou doesn't like that this is your response to him when you've just hung your obvious jealousy out for him to see. His chest pangs with something unexplainable when you pat on his back instead when in fact, you're the one who's feeling hurt.

"I didn't fuck her." He affirms again, a little stricter but full of sincerity this time. "Why do you think I didn't call you out with me today?"

You shake your head, biting on the inner corners your cheeks as you listen.

"People don't go around flaunting their treasures, no? At least not rational ones," he pauses to nibble at the fat of your cheek, beckoning you to please look at him again一 "that's just asking to be robbed."

"I was with business partners and I don't want them to know you're mine. That's dangerous."

You don't know what's so dangerous about being known as Haitani Rindou's favourite girl, because you want to be known. You want to be shown off, too. You want to be flaunted around proudly, like you're not just some man's dirty little secret that he'll bring to the grave.

But you're sure he has his own reasons for that.

You slowly remove your face from his neck to sniffle.

"And I still came tonight, yeah?" He rubs on your lids, playing with your lashes gently as you nod.

"'Cause I wanted to see you, pretty."

When Rindou spots the light gloss over your eyes and you cutesy lips turn pouty and you're looking at him like he'd just broken your heart into pieces一

He folds.

"I'm sorry, baby."

It's a first, he thinks to himself 一 that he's apologising for being with another girl to the girl he still doesn't know what exactly she is to him, other than the fact that he likes having her around a lot.

"No more of that, yeah?" He cups your cheeks with his hands as he hovers over your face, thumbs caressing your skin as you start tearing up, sniffling.

"Daddy's all yours."

He leans in to smooch on your lips.

"It'll only ever be you by my side today onwards."

A hand of his grabs onto your wobbly ones to place it right where his heart resides, feeling it beat beneath your palm through the layer of his shirt. It's erratic 一 full of panic and heartache the minute your waterworks start, because he hates seeing you cry, especially when it is because of him.

And then he pulls your hand back up to his lips to kiss on your fingers, his purple orbs not once breaking contact with your own, as you whimper and reach yoir arms oit to pull him into your chest, swallowing him into your soul.

Yours and yours only.

Rindou smiles.

How is a girl like you ever going to break his heart?

Stupid Ran.

this 2 love bug's trope summarised: love at first sight but with juicy lore 🔇 this is so poorly written but i dont wanna keep it in my drafts any longer since the year is ending and i really want to post something

[endless-ineffabilities]

backhand stroke (18+)

tennis coach!Aemond x tennis player!reader

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

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

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

word count : 8k ▪︎ masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shouldn’t. 

So why does it feel like there is something missing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just constant dizzying electricity. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You like how we talk.”

“Trust me, I don’t.”

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

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

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

Not that it matters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until Aemond. 

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

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

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

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

“What if I want to?”

You have him. He has you.

And you… have Art. 

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“So tell me now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

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

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

Twelve fucking fifteen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

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

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

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

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

It can wait, whatever it is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is not going to end well. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Is it true?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s said some things about me.”

“And I defended you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s nothing.”

“You said that he inspired you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Art.”

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

“Are we okay?” you ask.

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

You feel it all at once. 

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

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

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The gardens. Midnight. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. 

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beautiful. And just not yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have him. He has you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, and it’s an unspoken plea. 

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

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

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

“Yes. God yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re mine, ace. Mine.”

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

Marking someone who is not supposed to be his. 

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

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

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“40 - 30.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Aemond can. He knows this now. 

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

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

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

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

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Aemond, will you - ”

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

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

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

You lean back in mild surprise.

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

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

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

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[twopoppies]

The article is in Spanish, but it's a very trustworthy source from Argentina. That Roger was a fucking leech, hope he rots in jail

https://www. infobae. com/sociedad/policiales/2024/11/08/pesos-argentinos-para-comprar-droga-negocios-en-comun-y-dias-libres-el-oscuro-control-de-rogelio-nores-sobre-liam-payne/

This is so fucking disturbing. I know fans have had a bad feeling about Roger for a while. It sounds like they weren’t wrong.

Today, Nores is charged with abandoning Liam Payne and killing him , as well as supplying and facilitating him with drugs, in a relationship that sources in the case describe as “almost Maradona-esque, a friend of the champion , like those who surrounded Diego at his worst .” To charge him, Madrea and his team analyzed 800 hours of footage from the CasaSur hotel and opened Liam’s phone. In addition, they took a large number of testimonies, including that of Liam’s father, Geoff Payne.

Liam's father said the same thing that the courts were able to confirm through the analysis of communications and the comparison of other testimonies: that Nores, after meeting Payne in Miami at the beginning of this year, became the force that dominated his life. If the Payne family wanted to know how the singer was, then they should contact Rogelio. He was not just another friend of Liam's, under any circumstances. Geoff Payne himself said it: "Roger" was always the intermediary. "He is better than ever," he would have told the family when asked.

And this explains the charge of abandonment of a person. It is not about the fact that the businessman did not come to the singer's aid, but about the long road that led to the CasaSur hotel.

The businessman would have become a sort of de facto manager . Although they did not have a specific contract in this regard, sources in the case say that Nores operated as an "investment advisor" and that they had business in common in view of Payne's possible return to the world stage. For this, the singer's recovery from his addiction to drugs and alcohol was key. He just had to be detoxified.

Nores accompanied Payne in a deep detoxification treatment in the United States. There, a psychiatrist prescribed sertraline, the antidepressant that was found in the toxicology test on the singer's body. The specialist said it clearly: if you mix alcohol and cocaine with sertraline, the result can be lethal.

Then, another treatment in Spain was carried out, which also failed. So they ended up in Argentina. Payne was put up in a prestigious five-star hotel that was used to hosting big rock stars. They kicked him out of there. They even visited a local psychiatrist, who testified in the file. After the five-star hotel, they both went to the Patagones polo club with the singer's last girlfriend, Kate Cassidy, where the singer was photographed wearing a helmet and heels on a horse. They spent a few days there. However, Payne quickly became nervous and left the place.

Thus, they arrived at the CasaSur hotel in Palermo on the Sunday before the death. Liam did not even have a bag. There, according to the testimonies and analysis that are part of the case of the prosecutor Madrea, Nores' control would have been much more evident, with alleged orders to the hotel staff to report each expense. Nores, this time, managed Payne's expenses , while receiving calls for each whiskey, champagne or tequila that the former One Direction member ordered, with physical money delivered at the reception. The evidence also speaks of "free days" when Liam could consume cocaine.

The day he died, precisely, was a “day off.”

Thus, Nores frequently returned to the hotel to top up the bill. Payne, meanwhile, insisted on the phone, asking for Argentine pesos to pay the dealers who offered him cocaine, with photos of the bags they offered him and the corresponding prices. The prosecution suspects that Nores had obtained cocaine for him himself, which led to the second charge against him.

Meanwhile, hotel cameras filmed Liam as he wandered the halls , drunk and with a distant look.

For the time being, Nores is free, with his passport handed over to the courts and a ban on leaving the country, while he awaits being summoned for questioning by Judge Laura Bruniard. Article 106 of the Criminal Code, which defines the crime of abandonment followed by death, speaks of “anyone who endangers the life or health of another, either by placing him or her in a situation of helplessness, or by abandoning to their fate a person who is incapable of taking care of himself or who must be maintained or cared for, or who the author himself has incapacitated .” Here, the alleged supply of narcotics plays a key role.

If convicted, he could face up to 15 years in prison. Given the amount of the sentence, the crime is not bailable.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Topper’s sister (one or two years younger you pick) who does Only Fans and Rafe finds out. He subscribes and watches her content (because she’s hot and off limits since she’s Topper’s little sister) in secret, then blackmails her saying he’s gonna tell Topper. One weekend, she comes to Rafe and Topper’s place to surprise Topper for his birthday, but he’s not there and rafe blackmails her into giving him a blowjob

This is the longest work I've written in a while, I hope you enjoy

p.s. There is a possibility to make a part 2 for this one. Let me know if you are interested

Warnings: 18+, smut, blackmail, oral (m receiving),

—

After showering, Rafe tossed his towel into the hamper and fell on his bed. Topper was out with Cynthia — or maybe it was Vanessa —, which left him alone for the night. Rafe wasn’t complaining though, being alone was nice sometimes. Especially when he wanted to jerk off. 

He could have done it in the shower, but having visual material made the release better. 

Phone in hand, Rafe scrolled for something to watch. Sadly, none of the girls he was following had put up new content, so he looked for new accounts. He found a cute one, brunette with blue eyes, but she had overly huge tits and Rafe wasn’t into that — no offense to the girl. He almost went looking elsewhere when his eyes caught a familiar face.  

Rafe hit the profile and the biggest smirk turned on his lips. 

No fucking way. 

‘’Caught your dirty little secret,’’ he said to himself, his blue eyes staring at the free photoset you had to attract subscribers. Your sheer white bra left not much to the imagination and the curve of your ass had Rafe’s cock twitching. He’s been wanting to hit it since you wore that bikini at this beach parry last summer. 

Without hesitation, he subscribed and opened the first video.

You were sitting cross-legged on your dorm bed with nothing but a baby pink bodysuit, which hugged your figure perfectly. Your hard nipples were poking through the thin fabric, as if they were trying to say ‘hello’ to your viewers. You winked at the camera as your right hand slowly went down your chest, making a show of pinching your covered nipple and catching your bottom lip with your teeth as you let out a little moan. 

The sound made Rafe grip his cock and start to slowly jerk it. He was weak for nice tits…and yours were very nice. 

You pulled your other breast free from the fabric, your delicious nipple popping free as you asked the camera if they'd like to suck on them. Without waiting for an answer — not that you would be getting any since it was pre-recorded —, you looked down at it and dribbled spit onto yourself. 

 If Topper knew he was jerking off to his little sister, he would rip his head off. 

And your parents? If they knew about your secret online business, they would cancel all payments to your prestigious college and bring your ass back to Kildare. Dr. Cynthia Thornton’s daughter could not be part of the world of prostitution. It would look terrible for their name. 

Normally, Rafe loved to ruin people’s lives just for fun, but he was enjoying the view too much. All the photo-sets of you in delicate lingerie, the occasional topless ones, the close-ups of your fingers — and sometimes toys — in your pussy and the sweet moans that came from your mouth every time you were pleasuring yourself were part of his night routine. As perverted as it sounded. 

Weeks passed, and soon Topper’s birthday was coming up. The boys planned on going out to a club and celebrating there, but the plan changed when you showed up to your brother’s apartment for a birthday surprise.

‘’Where’s Top?’’ you asked, walking in like it was your own place. 

With a frown on his face, Rafe watched and closed the door behind you. ‘’At the gym with Braxton,’’ he replied. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ 

‘’Am I not allowed to surprise my brother for his birthday?’’ 

‘’We already have plans, and you’re not part of it.’’ 

Although Rafe had reserved a private booth, there was no way Topper would allow you to come to the club. 

Brushing off his objection, you grabbed your small suitcase and scanned the apartment. ‘’Where’s the guest bedroom?’’

‘’Here,’’ Rafe said, pointing at the couch. 

‘’I’m not sleeping on the couch.’’ 

‘’We turned the third bedroom into a gaming room. It’s the couch or the floor. You pick.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow, considering your options. The floor got crossed immediately — women do not sleep on floors. The couch, although soft and comfortable looking, had probably been used to have sex. It was a college boys apartment. 

‘’Then, I’ll be taking your bedroom.’’ 

 ‘’Absolutely not, Princess. This is my apartment, I'm not sleeping on the couch.’’

You crossed your arms, challenging his resistance. ‘’Come on, Rafe. I’m only staying for two days. I need to be back for Sunday, I have—’’ 

‘’Video content to film?’’ 

You gave Rafe a confused look to conceal your inner panic. ‘’A paper due Monday,’’ you said.

Rafe leaned against the couch, his eyes scanning you up and down. ‘’I know about your dirty little secret,’’ he said smugly, explicit images of yourself flashing in his head. ‘’I found your Only Fans account last month. By the way, you look better in light pink than sapphire blue, it washes you out.’’

At this very moment, you wished you could disappear with a snap of your fingers. With the details he was providing, it was impossible that Rafe was bluffing. You thought your account was well hidden, that your username was well thought and would never give you away. How did he find you? 

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, looking at Rafe with knives for eyes. 

‘’You didn’t think anyone would find out, did you?’’ 

‘’Did you tell Topper?’’ 

Fear started creeping in your stomach at the thought of Topper knowing about that part of your life. 

Rafe shook his head. ‘’Your secret’s safe with me…on one condition.’’ 

You rolled your eyes. Nothing was ever free with Rafe. He always wanted something in exchange. 

The corner of his mouth curled and you shook your head immediately, easily guessing what he had in mind. ‘’Absolutely not.’’ 

‘’Come on. I’m keeping my mouth shut, the least you can do is open yours.’’ 

Your jaw dropped at his crude words. ‘’That’s blackmail!’’ 

Rafe shrugged, not caring that he was playing dirty. ‘’You do what you want. I’m not gonna be the one in trouble after I make a little call to Topper to tell him his little sister opens her legs for money—’’ 

‘’Fine,’’ you said, gritting your teeth.

Somehow, this was more embarrassing than anything you had done on camera. 

Swallowing your pride, you kneeled before him, trying to ignore the cocky winning smile on Rafe’s face as you came face to face with his clothed lower region.  He was already thick behind his sweatpants — you could see the outline through the gray fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled his sweatpants down, uncovering his cock and balls. You gulped at the sight. He was long and thicker than average, which explained where his confidence came from — aside from his daddy’s big money.

‘’Like what you see?’’ Rafe asked, proud of his appendage. 

Without breaking your annoyance, you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t let him know that you were impressed by his size. He would never let you live this one down.

You wrapped a soft palm around his shaft, letting your thumb stroke over his tip and back down until he reached full hardness. Reluctantly, you dipped your head and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting the pre-cum that leaked from it before going to the base of his shaft. You didn���t take everything into your mouth — yet —, but tried to fit as much as you could. 

A soft groan left Rafe's mouth, feeling the pleasure of yours. His hand came to the back of your head, gripping your hair into a ponytail and encouraging you to continue your movements up and down. You sped up your pace, saliva spilling from your mouth as precum leaked into your mouth and ran down your throat, secretly starting to enjoy yourself. 

You clenched your thighs together, wetness slowly pooling in your panties. 

Above you, Rafe moaned, his grip tightening on your hair as you slid down as deep as you could manage. ‘’That’s it, baby. Put that mouth to good use.’’ 

Had your mouth not been busy, you would have told him to get fucked. Instead, you let him fuck your mouth like you were a inflatable doll from a sex shop until your jaw was starting to ache and you had to pull away. 

Unsatisfied with your ungranted break, Rafe tapped his cock against your cheek, smearing pre-cum and saliva on your face. ‘’Did I tell you to stop?’’

‘’No, but—’’ 

‘’Then get back to business.’’ He pressed his cock against your mouth, but you didn’t let him in. ‘’Or…maybe I should call Topper and send him a link to your side business?’’

You sat on your heels, letting out a defeated sigh. ‘’My jaw hurts, okay? I can’t anymore,’’ you explained, although doubting Rafe would be compassionate. He didn't care about you, he just wanted to empty his balls. ‘’But maybe we can’t look at other options?’’ You pulled down the front of your shirt, exposing your bra to him.

Rafe's eyes darted down your chest, catching his bottom lip between his teeth knowing what was beneath your bra. ‘’I'm listening.’’

But before the negotiations could begin, you heard the apartment door opening: Topper was back. Quickly, you fixed your shirt and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand while Rafe pulled his sweatpants back up.

—

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[wintersera]

study date? || futa!wonyoung x f!reader

notes: first time ever writing futa and i feel like a hentai loving freak for doing so- anyways “hermaphrodite” futanari especially refers to pornographic characters in erotic manga or anime, known as hentai. basically wy has a pussy and a dick 😭 also happy belated birthday @wonysugar this was for u

cw: futanari, sub!wonyoung, dom!reader, dacryphilia, strap on (i say cock as well), overstimulation if you squint, praise(?), 100% not proofread leave me alone 😭

wc: 5k

“you know you’re about to be kicked off campus if you don’t pass right?”

“what…”

your teacher had summoned you a mere 5 minutes ago to drop the most devastating news you had ever heard in your half assed school life. obviously you knew your grades weren’t the best- they were shit.

you had joined the university to get away from your annoying ass parents, and you were very VERY lucky to have been accepted into such a prestigious one, a university that would make your parents proud. only skimming the entry requirements by a passing grade.

anyways, you couldn’t have the risk of losing the good friends you had made, so you started thinking... if you were to study hard you could stay, maybe fuck around at parties and whatnot, but then again you and studying don’t go hand in hand, unfortunately. even if you tried to sit down in the lecture hall with a notebook and your laptop on the side you’d most likely forget the content in as soon as you step out.

groaning in frustration, you throw your hands up into the air dramatically “ughhhh… okay, i’ll make it up to you somehow. please don't kick me out just yet”

—

stumbling into your next class like the dramatic person you are, you mumble under your breath with a displeased look on your face obviously shown by furrowed brows and your persistent frown.

“fuck this class, this is so shitttt” uttering as you take your note book from out of your bag to scribble down some barely readable half assed notes, since your teacher was rambling about some topic you didn’t quite grasp.

it was extremely obvious that you had no clue on what was being taught. instead of embarrassing yourself in front of the whole entire class by extending your arm up in the air, it was only natural for you to ask the person next to you for help. the girl next to you was known as the most intelligent person in the class, maybe the most intelligent person on campus if you say so yourself.

“…hey” whispering while poking her shoulder “what exactly are we learning?” the girl carefully placed down her pen to turn her head in your direction, her hair doing that cliche slow motion sway as she adjusts her glasses, making sure that it was tucked behind her ears. it took her a while to speak up, maybe it was nerves. people often depicted you as an outgoing ‘popular’ person, but you didn’t believe that at all- i mean who uses school hierarchy at your big age. sure, you have a couple of close friends here and there and you easily become acquainted with people, yet that doesn’t really make you popular… you think. just a few drinks and you’re already chatting to everyone at the club.. you wouldn’t call that being popular, right? or maybe she was repulsed by you instead, you dont know why, but maybe she just didn’t fuck with your vibes- your personalities clashed severely, and although you weren’t a believer of those cliche stereotypes where the nerd is absolutely terrified of the avid partygoer- those cliches almost felt too real.

her eyes widened and it seemed like all the blood had rushed up to her cheeks as she stared at your face for a few seconds, completely forgetting what you had asked her before “uh.. um… what did you ask me again?” by her body language alone, you could sense that she was tensing up. okay maybe you were a little bit intimidating, who wouldn’t think you were by the way you waltzed into the lecture hall all dramatic like that.

“i’ve been behind on everything and i’m about to get kicked out so could you maybe help… please?”

“um- well, it’s kinda impossible to learn all the content in one sitting, since our professor kinda just talks for hours on end. so… uh if you’re okay with it, do you wanna do a little studying together?”

“yes?! oh my god perfect, you’re a lifesaver. just say where and i’ll be over” immediately accepting the offer just like that. you’d think that she would be more timid considering that she was literally paralysed when you poked her, but luckily enough, she had the balls to speak to you. god bless confident ass nerds.

being too enthusiastic about studying with her, she was a little bit caught off guard by the way you beamed “w-we could do it after class. i’m not busy and no ones gonna be in my dorm today apparently…” you thought about it. even though you were fine with studying at a local cafe, or the university library, a change of environment could possibly help you “that’s if you want to of course” fiddling with her pen as she softly added the last sentence.

“sure, why not. a change of environment wouldn’t hurt- and plus i might study better with someone as smart and cute as you”

“h-huh? what?”

you felt a little pang in your heart, her confused face made your pulse race a little too fast for your liking “ah… i didn’t mean that in a flirtatious way” sureeee “i meant it more like- you know what… i'm digging myself a hole. i meant you’re very very smart and i’d love for you to help me study” flashing her a quick smile.

“uh- um yeah.. ahaha. so my place is fine?”

“sure”

—

after another painful hour of sitting impatiently in your seat, class finally ended with you still not understanding a single thing that came out of your professor's mouth.

“i have no idea what she was yapping about”

“it’s because you sleep at the back sometimes. you better stop taking naps or else she’s gonna kick you out for real”

“…you pay attention to me sleeping in class?” interrogating her seemed fun. she was always so quick to answer your questions with a funny flustered response. something along the lines of stuttering profusely everytime you ask her a simple question. it was like you knew her for a while, being so comfortable in her presence that you can easily toss banter around.

“NO- i mean.. it’s because you sleep so soundly and so obviously, probably because you’re partying almost every night, r-right?”

“you’re so cute when you stutter- also yes i do go out a lot but not that much” teasing her a bit more as you walk out of the lecture hall “so where’s your dorm at pretty girl?”

“oh! uh.. it’s just a 10 minute walk away”

you called her a pretty girl? out of nowhere? it was involuntary but it came out smoothly and without you thinking, plus it really messed with her head. score. what you failed to realise is that she walked a little funny, shuffling as she walked beside you. the tent in her pants being so obviously apparent that she covered it up with her bag, that was thankfully big enough.

that 10 minute walk to hers felt oddly familiar, until you realised that you lived in the same accommodation. what a shocker.

what's even more funnier is that she lived one floor above you

“wonyoung”

“y-yes?” she jumped in place as she reached for her keys in her bag, the keys almost falling out of her hands.

“it’s kind of funny how i live right below you” giggling about how silly you thought it was “how come i’ve never seen you around?”

“hmmm… too busy studying i guess”

“ah, that would make sense. anyways why are you just standing at the door, are we gonna go in or nah”

you waited as she lowkey struggled to insert the key into the door. watching her closely as she curses under her breath, she must’ve thought that she looked like a complete and utter loser. she was right. she was a mess in front of you-

“take your time babe”

“s-stop don’t call me that. you’re gonna make me mess up again” panicking as she missed the key hole.

the door finally opened and you were in. her room was, well, basically the same size as yours of course, but it was definitely much more organised in contrast to your hell hole of a room “god damn, i’m glad you didn’t offer to go to mine”

as you sat down on her bed, you scanned across her walls and other stuff, taking note of what types of posters she had on her wall just in case you felt generous one day and decided to give her a gift. not like you had any money for that though. it wasn’t surprising when you glanced over her desk to see a couple of shoujo anime figures still fresh in the box “hah wow you really are nerdy”

“s-shut up and come sit here”

—

“alright so that’s how you finish off this part… are you okay… you look out of it” she questions you while you slide down her conveniently placed extra chair that was placed right next to her.

“that felt like a fuck ton of cars just crashed simultaneously into my brain. wonyoung i know you’re smart, but can you dumb down the explanations plea-” you pause as she got up from her seat- your jaw swung wide open in shock laying your eyes upon something you guess wasn’t meant to be seen.

“how about we take little break. let me get you some.. um y/n? helloooo- are you good? is your brain fried?”

yeah it was. your focus was shifted onto something else. no thoughts, no words just..

cock?

you responded to her question with a nod- yeah yeah your brain was definitely fried, you even questioned if it was because the studying REALLY did fuck your head up, but my god it was as clear as day. the print in her pants was certainly real, there was no way that it was fake. her bulge being so unrealistically big that it looked like her pants were restricting all the space in there- no room for her cock to breathe at all.

“i… i uh- i don’t wanna be a creep or anything but… wonyoung i think you might have an issue down there”

“down where?” HOW did she not realise that she had a massive hard on right in front of you.

luckily she was cute, and thankfully you had a huge thing for nerds like her. you take a deep breath- praying to the skies that she doesn’t find you weird for asking this specific question.

“need help?” you breathe shakily, the sight of her cock begging for it to be released from her tight pants made you almost drool. heat spread to your face while she looked at you confused for a second until it hit her.

“ah, you meant t-that? aha i don't know how it got there um uh.. it’s definitely not because- i mean it’s like… well it seems like i have a hard on ahaha” there was an awkward silence that washed over the both of you.

“i- sorry i didn't mean to get turned on by you” shyly admitting whilst attempting to cover her hard on with her note book.

“oh, so i turned you on?” a smirk slowly appearing on your flushed face, a teasing hand brushed her cock ever so slightly as you crossed your legs.

“fuck… y-yeah you did.. sorry” she began to lose her balance as you cupped your hand around her bulge.

“no need to apologise” once again, silent washes over you- collecting your thoughts on how to approach her again “…wonyoung”

“mhm?”

“take your pants off for me” you eyed her down like a predatory animal, crossing your arms as she slowly takes her pants, then her boxers off. her cock sprung out and hit her stomach with a thud. damn, she was hung-

telling a cute girl to strip in her own dorm room wasn’t really on your to do list today, or at all, but here you were. the cute girl in question having a massive cock and what seems to be the lack of balls.

wait pause? she doesn’t have any balls? interesting- now you’re equally intrigued and horny.

“sit down on the bed for me cutie” the sudden use of a pet name made her whine aloud. you guess she was weak towards those types of words- adorable. she sat down on her bed, legs shut from embarrassment “awww” you coo at her “how cute. come on, spread your legs for me baby”

“mmm.. wait wait you’re gonna be weirded out. i-i don’t think we shouldn’t do this”

“there’s nothing to be ashamed of. be proud of your dick wonyoung, people would die to have a cock this size” lifting yourself outta the chair to kneel in front of her “nowww, i did say i was gonna help- i promise i won’t be weirded out”

even though her dick was out, and you were so ready to suck it off. clearly nervous, you placed a reassuring hand on her thigh “it’s not like i’ve never seen a dick before- you’ll be fine with me, promise”

“it really isn’t about my dick. it’s more about the um… the… okay i don't have balls”

“huh?” you sat there perplexed- she has what? what do you mean she has no balls “n…none at all? well it’s not like i care anyway, dick is dick”

“okay so um- instead it’s just… actually just look for yourself” no words could explain how embarrassed wonyoung felt, her cheeks heated up- actually no, her whole entire face lit on fire. slowly spreading her legs apart, she revealed her sopping wet cunt.

yeah whatever, you weren’t opposed to the idea of nerd girl jang wonyoung having a massive fucking cock and a pretty tight pussy at the same time- more so, it turned you on severely knowing the nasty things you could do to her “you don’t need to worry about it baby, i’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget about being embarrassed” you say after licking a strip up from the base of her cock to the very tip

“ah.. mhm… your tongue- warm” hands extending to grab your head gently, her long fingers tangling themselves in your messily tied hair.

“first time?” looking up from in between her legs. surprisingly, she shook her head with the bite of her lip “not a virgin? okay so i can do this” swooping one strand of hair to the back of your ears, you make haste, your mouth opening wide as you let her cock slide into your mouth, and a little into your throat.

“hngh s..so deep, sorry i lied ah- i am a virgin” it makes you giddy on how she always gave such honest answers, not a single drop in this woman's body could lie. even through pleasure she was true, her hips jolting upwards and never shying whenever you did something she enjoyed. you played with her tip, attentively listening to her whines gradually increasing in volume. for funsies, you then ease one finger into her needy pussy, her head thrown back- rolling her hips shamelessly.

releasing her cock from your mouth and resting your face next to it “feeling good?” you ask, just to make sure she’s actually good. she doesn’t answer, well she does, but in a series of whimpers and squeals. her response confirmed it for you, she felt more than good.

your pulse quickened, her once tense body relaxed under your control. to be an extra tease, you flashed her a cheeky smile before you take her cock back in your mouth. she gasps again, you watching her face contort; brows furrowing, biting her lip, her eyes occasionally rolling back as you curl your fingers inside- stretching her pussy by adding a second finger just so you can see her mouth fall open.

wonyoung felt like she was crumbling over the edge with your fingers pumping in and out of her hole without any breaks, and your tongue working magic around her throbbing cock. soon enough her legs were wide open for you and in return you giggled a little. an unknown feeling building at the pit of her stomach freaked her out yet it was oddly welcomed. you knew by the way her thighs trembled that she was close to finishing.

she couldn’t help but call out your name. she really tried her best to take her cock out of mouth while she came, but you refused to move even an inch, letting her load paint your throat white as you gulp down every last drop of it. you still kept fingering her until she couldn’t take it anymore, wriggling herself out of your hold and flopping onto the bed “that… felt… too good. i-i think i need to.. catch my breath” she says while blankly staring at the ceiling.

even in a situation like this you found her endearing, unlike the many hookups you’ve had where you’d leave after a good fuck. she was different from rest; a hidden gem “sorry i got carried away, you’re too cute wonyoung” like that her dick sprung back up “really, just by me calling you cute your cock is back up?”

“it has a mind of its own, leave it be” you giggle at her silly antics. with zero hesitation, you pull off your flimsy shirt exposing your bare skin to the air. it’s a little cold

still on the bed lying down, her eyes closed, you straddle over her hips “can we do it again, i didn’t get off. or maybe no… you know i don’t mind, i just wanted to see you flustered, and of course feel good”

she sprang up- which, to be honest, caught you off guard. huffing into the crook of your neck, peppering ticklish kisses alongside. there was a minor look of desperation on her face that you weren’t familiar with when it came to her. you’d usually see her around campus all calm and collected, looking so poised and shit and yet here she was, crumbling over a simple comment you made about her and her dick.

she switched between light pecks to open mouthed kisses, definitely leaving obvious bruises all over “you’re.. so.. pretty… wanna-”

“yeah? you want that dont you baby. wanna fuck my pussy don’t you” poor girl was flustered at your words. her lips grazed your neck again and whimpered as she kissed your jaw.

“yes please” your stomach twisted. so so cute begging to fuck your pussy. you complied, quickly discarding your underwear and tossing it somewhere. a hand took her shoulder, stabling yourself as you gradually let yourself sink onto her cock.

“hnggh… fuck. wonyoung you’re so? haaa- you’re really big” you felt a little lightheaded after fitting the entire length of her inside. you weren’t expecting her to reach that deep into you, maybe to the point of you losing yourself all over her dick. it was insane to you how much you could take. really really insane how she was able to stretch your pussy out so much to the point of your eyes rolling back.

fuck, why was she that big? you started tearing up and she wasn’t even moving “won… wonyoung, please i need you to start doing something” i think you might’ve driven her past processing because tell me why she wasn’t listening at all. she could be pussy drunk for all you care, actually no she was one hundred percent drunk off of your pussy. you were wet beyond comprehension, and the feeling of your walls clenching down on her cock made her moan so loud. thank god her flatmates weren’t because if they were, they’d hear the most filthiest things through the thin ass walls.

you gave her some time to adjust herself accordingly, waiting… for… quite a long time. it really looked like she was basking in the heat of your cunt and you honestly you thought that was quite endearing, but fuck, you needed her to ram into you or at least move around. she still hasn't done that still… good lord she was gone. so taking the situation into your own hands, you lifted yourself off of her hips just a tiny bit and harshly slammed down, both of you moaning at the overwhelming feeling “ah- fuck? wait wait..” you couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to be fucked crazy.

“mhm, just- just stay still like that. let me do what i need to do” you bounced once more, watching as wonyoung threw her head backwards, her mouth agape and everything.

even though you were mid fuck, wonyoungs glasses were still on. she needed to take them off for some reason, but you didn’t let her “hey don’t- keep those glasses on, you look so… mgh.. you look so fucking good” saying all of that while you increasingly sped up. now your thighs began to ache, worth it though. with each time her cock pumped inside, the closer you felt towards coming.

shit, you felt it so much, it was much stronger than usual and you felt like you were about to explode.

“come- fuck. wonyoung baby, are you close too?”

she nodded weakly. she was about to come again after the last- and so quickly too. her head was spinning, her thighs clenched, snapping back up to wrap her arms around your torso to keep you still; and to keep you close “close.. gonna…”

“me too… me too. keep- oh my god” your movements became frantic. then, not so shortly after, wonyoung lets out a long lasting moan. a mind breaking orgasm hits her so hard, her mind blanking out yet again while her thick semen fills you up. you followed straight after, your hand gripping her shoulder tightly until your knuckles turned white. a harsh groan reverberating inside of wonyoungs head as you moan straight into her ear.

awkward and weird as it may sound, but you immediately thought about hmmm… strap. you really wanted to try it. the thought of her with her ass high up in the air, with you dicking her down and jacking her off seemed something almost so pornographic and unrealistic that it excited you beyond comprehension.

why not give her the chance to cum all over you, and then get severely embarrassed about it. something about her just made you want to tease her until she’s crying. well that did sound like an appealing thing to do.

wonyoung laid down again. out of breath “made me… come again… i’m so…”

“cute… haa.. you’re really cute” you were equally as spent as she was but you HAD to try pounding her pussy. sure, your legs weren’t able to support you standing back up, after all you did use them to fuck yourself on her, but you were UP “can i go back to my room real quick? i’ll be back, it’s a pleasant surprise, i promise”

“uh, sure?” she was confused as to why you grabbed your pants and her shirt that she took off to then sprint outside of her room. quite strange don't you think? well whatever.

you hurried to your door, searching for your keys in your back pocket “come on- come onnnn” your thighs were so sore but you had to get that damn pink strap out of your closet. it was a need to fuck her perfect pussy.

there it was in its glory, a small rectangular box that concealed your strap. alright, time to speed back up the stairs.

i guess she wasn’t even bothered to check who it was, but she immediately opened the door as soon as she heard you knock once “hey i’m back, i got you a present” you heaved as you legitimately ran up a flight of stairs not too long ago.

“a present for me?” i mean she was bewildered, you had a box in your arms. no decoration, just a plain ass box.

“yeah- fuck, let me catch my breath… okay yes i know it doesn’t look like all that, but look-“ you opened the box to reveal your unused strap on “can i use it on you?”

you cannot stress this enough, but wonyoung’s face was violently red again. given the fact that you had made her cum twice and she was still this flustered about it had you drooling at the thought of making her a mess all over again.

“y/n do you think that can fit… in me?”

“we can try. i know your pretty pussy can take me whole” and with that she was soaked again. she felt that and got hard once more.

“g-get inside, you’re in the doorway”

“oh shit yeah okay”

wonyoung fell on top of her bed, cushions and blankets were still messed up. you closed the door behind you and opened up the box, a whole eight inches just for wonyoungs pussy “it’s so cute how you’re still soaked, were you thinking about me while i was gone?”

“it was five minutes… yeah, i was thinking about you” hiding her face behind her hands.

“aww cute, lean on your hands and knees for me babe”

“o-okay” she responded obediently to your words. wonyoung got onto her hands and knees and waited patiently for your next order. her back looked way too pretty, so you got up onto the bed, planted a kiss on her lower back making her twitch in response and cooed

“aww still so sensitive?” she didn’t realise it before, but you were behind her with your strap already fitted on you. she unintentionally arched her back, feeling your presence already there “god, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you?”

“please… just- i’m ready. just hurry up and take me” you giggle as you acknowledged her insatiable craving for your cock.

“you’re dripping.. and you’re so hard, tell me how much you want it” telling her just to be a tease “beg for it”

“…please…” her voice low, almost a whisper.

“good girl” you slowly buried yourself inside her cunt, letting her familiarise herself with the new sensation. her hands gripped the sheets tightly, a fist full of cloth was keeping her from losing her control.

“oh my go- so… fuck” she cried out your name a couple of times before spilling out incoherent sentences. something like “good, so good” and a few more unintelligible words followed with high pitched moans.

a girl this cute and needy deserved more than just this. you slowly paced your thrusting, making sure that she felt comfortable, and by also not shoving the entire strap inside of her. all though you wanted to go rough and abuse her tight hole, that was for another day or maybe even in a couple of seconds actually.

“you good?”

“nnghh- s… so good” she couldn’t even form sentences. there was no need to even ask. her body alone showed how much she yearned for your touch.

oh so now you needed to fuck her till she’s dumb. what happened to that little smart brain of hers? so spent out on being fucked till she’s dry made her behave like she’s out of her mind. you started thrusting your strap in even deeper, hoping that she can take the full thing. she did. with how wet she was, it wasn’t surprising that it slid in so easily. a choked moan coming straight from her mouth as soon as you finished pushing it all in “you’re taking me in so well. i knew you could do it babe”

it was like you didn't think but you started to pump in and out of her faster and harder. each guttural moan that came out of that pretty mouth of hers, the faster you went. the more ruthless you got. oh how hard you were going, giving wonyoung no time to settle. the sounds her pussy made were nothing but filthy, the sweet sounds of her squelching pussy was like music to your ears. she loved every single thing you did to her body, although she couldn’t express it through her words.

you grabbed her hips, moving them and slamming them straight back into your cock just to make her scream out your name “you like that? want me to pound into your pretty pussy like that again?” there was a slightly mean tone to your voice.

“mhmmm… again- do it again” she begged and cried for more.

this time you pulled straight out, leaving her whining until you slammed right back into her again, but this time with a twist. you leaned over wonyoung a little, resting almost on top of her back. you slithered your hand across and grabbed her cock, teasing the tip a little before snapping your hips that made her ass push into you. she sharply inhaled as you played with her cock, moving from her sensitive tip to stroking her length gently while you ravaged her insides

“too- too much.. feels so.. haaa… mmmmm” two sensations blending into one could be described as too overwhelming and extremely overstimulating. being fucked dumb made her sob a little, feeling as if her insides were about to collapse, and feeling as if her dick was about to erupt.

shit, it felt way too good.

her entire body convulsed, her hands were balled into a fist, clutching onto the sheets desperately, she screamed profanities into her pillow. her orgasm hit her harder than it did the other two times. you could say it even made her almost pass out. poor girl was seeing stars as you kept stroking her cock to help her ride out her climax. you never knew she could scream that loud… or even cum this much. beds being completely drenched with both her juices and her cum. you’d have to help her clean up for sure…

“stop- stop.. oh god… mmm oh my god”

and maybe you could do this again. another study date.

[minniesfiles]

{WONWOO} FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

ᯓ★ VOL. 1

(note; each volume has 15 fic recs)

[a] - angst

[f] - fluff

[s] - smut

❖ lucky — by @97-liners

the fanfic trope where a character wakes up loopy after wisdom tooth surgery. | 1.3k [f]

❖ closer — by @hannieehaee

after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew. | 12.9k [s, f, a]

❖ endpoint — by @highvern

Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint. | 19.5k [f, a, s]

❖ in front of me — by @wonustars

jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time. | 49.6k [a, s]

❖ payment due — by @solarwonux

HYBE U one of the top highly prestigious universities in the country. A shit hole, a total money making scam that liked to sucked the life out of its students. Not being able to meet the funds to pay for your tuition your best friend lets you in a little secret. A way he’s been keeping afloat for years now, easy money. The problem is you want in. | 56.1k [f, a, s]

❖ blind — by @wtf-taeyong

? [a]

❖ ten questions — by @chocosvt

wonwoo isn’t at home as often as he used to be. you know he doesn’t exactly have a regular job, but you still can’t help this feeling of isolation. the less you see him, the more questions you have, which provokes one question above all - does he even have the time for you anymore? | 4.3k [a, f]

❖ a moon without stars — by @chocosvt

you work as a part time florist whilst jeon wonwoo balances his time between being a body piercer and helping out at his uncle’s garage. the two of you are thrust together in an awkward meet up when you get your first piercing. wonwoo thinks you’re kinda odd, but he knows he isn’t much different, and little by little he becomes infatuated with how you can make watering hibiscus flowers sound so interesting. | 18k [f, a, s]

❖ wonwoo: the protector — by @gamerwoo

If there’s one thing Wonwoo hates, it’s feeling helpless; like there’s nothing he can do to stop somebody he loves from getting hurt. It’s happened to him once before, and he swears it’ll never happen again. Especially not after he meets you. | series [f, a, s]

❖ pomegranate — by @idyllic-ghost

You, a princess from a doomed kingdom, have been arranged to be married to an heir of a much more prosperous kingdom. However, when you first visit them, you realize that you would much rather be with the heir's younger brother. | 13.8k [a, s]

❖ sweet chaos — by @viastro

you and wonwoo are the best assassins in south korea. however, underneath it all, the two of you fell in love. what will you do when you're hired to kill him? | 3.4k [a, f]

❖ take a chance with me — by @saythenametotheworld

You could not believe that no one ever told you how frustrating (and beautiful) it was to be hopelessly captivated by a boy who thinks love is overrated. | 25k [f, s, a]

❖ boys and their toys — by @babyleostuff

Fighting with you has to be one of wonwoo's biggest nightmares, so when you reset his game - will that be enough for him to finally lose his temper? | 1.9k [f, a]

❖ grease — by @gyuswhore

In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go. | 5.8k [f, s]

❖ the story of us — by @gyuswhore

So many walls that you can't break through; except you do. | 2.1k [a, f]

[gammasnippets]

Drive T

SNSD Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

12,260 words (Co-edited by @capslocked and @sparkynsfws)

Wimbledon—one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world, known for its rich history and iconic traditions. It's the highlight of the tennis season, where the best players from around the globe compete for the coveted title on the hallowed grass courts of the All England Club. This is where names are made, and where legends are born. From casual fans to hardcore tennis enthusiasts, everyone is eager to witness the thrilling matches and the breathtaking displays of skill the players unleash on the courts. And with only a few months to prepare, you do your best to be in your best physical and mental condition for the coming tournament.

That is… If you're one of the qualifying players.

Something suddenly hits your head, snapping you out of your daydreaming. It was a tennis ball, rolling down your face. It's not even a hard hit, but it sure is enough to knock you back to reality. You then scan the tennis court looking for the culprit. Not far from you stands a woman, one hand on her racket and the other on her hip, and she doesn't look pleased.

"Hey! Quit your daydreaming, will you?" says the woman, sounding annoyed.

"That was uncalled for, you know?" you retort as you rub the point of impact, a spark of irritation in your voice.

"I just finished warming up here and the next thing I know, you're in your own world!" she snaps back, clearly unapologetic for her errant shot.

"Well, if only you didn't arrive late, we could've started our practice session on time," you reply, trying to maintain your composure.

The woman doesn't seem to like your response and walks towards you, her face slowly turning red.

"So it's my fault that you scheduled our practice session at such an inconvenient time?"

"What? You told me that you're only available today and that you really wanted to practice," you protest, feeling both confused and frustrated.

"At fucking midnight?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"Well, it's only an hour after…"

"11 PM, 12 AM… Whatever! It's late in the evening, you dumbass!"

She kinda has a point. Despite the great discount you received for renting the tennis court at nighttime, you begin to realize that scheduling a session close to midnight wasn't the wisest decision.And she has every right to be angry about the inconvenience.

You take a step back, realizing that this argument is getting out of hand.

"Alright, alright… I'm sorry, Taeyeon-noona. I should've checked with you first."

To your relief, her anger softens slightly, and she sighs.

"Well, we're way past that now. Might as well make use of the time while we're here."

"Thanks for understanding…"

"Just don't you ever do this again," she says as she points her racket at you, her tone still sharp. "Or I'll make sure to hit you harder next time."

"Okay. I get it," you reply, feeling intimidated by her fiery demeanor.

You were always intimidated by Taeyeon's fiery demeanor. As your former teacher and tennis club advisor, she's known to be as strict and disciplined. You can't forget the torture she put you through, but that didn't sway you from leaving the sport you're passionate about. And for better, or more likely worse, you and Taeyeon are still in touch after all these years. Maybe you could've found a better partner, but you've never been more comfortable with anyone else other than her.

You and Taeyeon proceed to continue your practice session on the tennis court. Both of you are determined to make the most of the remaining time and improve your skills, ignoring the tension that still lingers in the air. The court fills with the sound of powerful swings, focused footwork, and the occasional grunt of exertion as you both push yourselves to the limit. Well-deserved breaks are taken to catch your breath, sip some water, and exchange a few friendly jokes amidst the intensity.

After a few rounds of intense practice, the two of you decide to take a much longer break.

"Fuck… I need a break," you pant, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

"Jeez. You're tired already?" Taeyeon teases you, as desperate for air as you are.

"You're the one to talk," you retorted, throwing the tease back at her.

"Well, you're the one who keeps on making me run all over the court!" she grumbles as she retires beside you, pouting her lips.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," you reply, smirking.

"Yet I still won," she boasts, a smug grin spreading across her face.

"I only let you win, you know?" you shrug nonchalantly.

Taeyeon laughs out loud at your cocky remark.

"As if! You always trip when you're returning my drop shots."

"Hey… It only happened once."

"More like twice!"

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

"Okay… It happened twice. Happy now?"

"You bet," she continues to laugh. "God, that was funny."

Taeyeon can't help but giggle at your mistakes during the game. As much as you find her laughter infectious, her teasing you might have hit a nerve. You want to retaliate by telling her how equally awful she was at returning her serves. But maybe she deserves this after the earlier exchange.

"So, wanna do a few more rounds?" you propose to Taeyeon, eager to win against her.

"Already? Can't we relax a bit more?" she asks, her body still slumped against the bench.

"Come on. We still have a lot of time left," you urge her, giving her a good nudge with your elbow.

"Exactly! Can't we use the time to rest longer?" she complains, faking an exhausted expression.

You sneer at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Noona, please. Don't be such a baby. You're too old for that," you tell her.

She then lets out a loud gasp. You obviously hit a nerve.

"Hey! I'm not old, you fuck!" she exclaims, raising her voice.

You chuckle. "Yeah, but you're definitely older than me."

"I'm only 34!" she yells, her cheeks turning slightly red.

"You can even pass as my aunt," you joke, unable to resist pushing her buttons even further.

In a hurry, she ejects herself from the bench, ready to argue back.

"Listen here, you little shit. You can joke all you want, but I can kick your ass right here, right now."

Seems like your teasing had the wrong effect on Taeyeon. As if a fuse inside her was lit, she's ready to fight you with words, fists, and probably anything else she can get her hands on.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to appease her.

But Taeyeon's not having it, and she's still fuming.

"That's not gonna cut it, you asshole," she continues to rant. "Y'know what? Let's make this interesting."

You don't know what's going through her head, but whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What? Interesting, how?"

"Since you think I'm such a weak old lady, even though I've beaten you many times…"

"We're almost even," you interject, but she's quick to cut you off.

"Shut up! You're not helping your case," she barks, glaring at you.

You shut your mouth and let her finish.

"Anyway, I bet I can beat you in a singles match," she declares, her tone serious.

The proposition sounds appealing to you, but it does feel like you're being manipulated.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

You scan her face carefully. Her expression doesn't waver and looks dead serious. You begin to regret messing with her earlier, and you're unsure what to say next.

"Well?" she asks again, expecting a clear answer.

You can't help but let out a deep sigh.

"Okay… What's on the line, then?"

"The loser has to follow the winner's every command."

You're a little taken aback by the wager, not because it's particularly absurd, but rather that you can't believe how quickly she's able to come up with this kind of proposition.

"That… That's quite a bold bet," you say, feeling a bit intimidated by the conditions.

"Are you backing out already? I thought you're a better player than that."

"No, I'm not! I'm just… Surprised," you stutter, unsure if you're able to take the challenge.

"Don't be such a chicken," she taunts you, a devilish smirk forming on her lips.

The teaser now becomes teased, and her expression is the one that you would never want to see. She's ready to fight you, and not just with her words. You can sense her desire for victory emanating out of her, and that scares the hell out of you.

Suddenly, immense pressure is crushing you down, and you begin to doubt yourself. Taeyeon's always been a formidable player, even with her age and size. If it weren't for her teaching you, you wouldn't have learned all the tricks that you've used to win many matches. You start to regret your decision to play with her, and you have no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat.

"Alright… You've got a deal," you agree, taking the challenge.

She gives a smug grin.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she chuckles. "Well, we've got plenty of time. Shall we have a nice game?"

"I guess so…"

The two of you prepare for the match, putting your rackets and other equipment away. As you're preparing, a thought pops into your mind, and you have a burning question to ask Taeyeon.

"You do realize that a singles match is longer than doubles, right?"

"Well, we can adjust the rules. This isn't an official match, after all."

"Alright. So how do you want to do this? Best out of three sets?"

"Sounds fair enough."

With the agreement, you and Taeyeon prepare to take the court once again. Both of you are determined to win and get the advantage over the other.

You set off the game with your first serve, hitting a fastball to the far corner of the service box. Taeyeon returns with a strong swing, hitting a high-speed shot that you're unable to defend. She takes the first point.

"Shit," you curse under your breath, as the scoreboard shows 15-0.

You try not to lose your focus as you return to the baseline and prepare for the next serve.

You decide to be more careful, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. Your next serve is a lot slower and hits the back of the service box. Taeyeon's return is weaker, allowing you to defend easily. With the advantage, you go on the offense and score a point.

"Yes!" you celebrate, pumping your fist.

"Hey. Not bad," Taeyeon concedes, not wanting to praise you.

"You can't expect me to let you have the advantage all the time," you brag, not letting her dampen your spirit.

"Try me."

Those two words somehow have a strange effect on you, and your confidence quickly wavers.

You try to be a little bit more aggressive on your next serve, and she's forced to make a mistake, throwing the ball off bounds. The score is now tied at 15-30.

The two of you continue your game, fighting tooth and nail to get the advantage. You give your best and so does her. Neither of you are willing to let the other gain any sort of upper hand.

The score eventually reads 40-30, with Taeyeon holding the lead. A single point would end the set and give her a huge advantage.

The volleys between you and Taeyeon are fast and aggressive, but with a strong swing, she manages to catch you off guard, scoring the winning point. She wins the first set.

She cheers at her victory, a wide grin spread across her face.

"Not bad. Didn't think I'd get the first point, huh?"

"Yeah, but the first set doesn't matter," you retort, not wanting to get discouraged.

"Is that so, hotshot? You can try."

You grit your teeth, and you're not sure whether Taeyeon's taunt was meant to annoy you, but her words had its desired effect. You're now ready to prove her wrong and win the second set.

She starts off the second set, preparing for her next serve.

"Let's see if you can return this one," she challenges you with a sly smile on her face.

"Bring it," you reply, your focus unwavering.

Taeyeon lets out a fast serve, aiming for the corner of the service box. Luckily for you, you manage to read her serve and position yourself perfectly to return it with a strong forehand. A few quick exchanges later, you score with a cross-court shot to start the second set with a point in your favor.

It's now your turn to serve. You perform a tricky flat serve, hoping to catch Taeyeon off guard. She anticipates your serve, returning it with a well-placed backhand slice that lands just over the net. In your hesitation to reach the ball, you mistakenly returned it too high and Taeyeon seizes the opportunity, smashing with a powerful overhead shot. The score is now tied at 15-15 in the second set.

You didn't let this setback discourage you. Instead, you double down on your serve, determined to not repeat the same mistake. Taeyeon is also focused and prepared to return your next serve.

With a swift motion, you throw another fast serve, and Taeyeon returns it with a powerful forehand, forcing you to make a mistake. But you managed to return the ball at an awkward angle, giving her a difficult ball to return. You seize the opportunity and score the next point.

The tension between you and Taeyeon is at an all-time high as the second set moves closer to its conclusion. Each point is fought fiercely, and there are a lot of close calls. Neither of you is willing to concede even a single point.

With both of you on the verge of exhaustion, the match is now coming down to the wire.

The score is now 15-40. You need a single point to win the second set.

You have the opportunity to serve. Taeyeon prepares herself, ready to receive your next serve.

"Here goes," you mutter, trying to psych yourself up. With a powerful serve, you launch the ball over the net. You watch anxiously as the ball flies toward the opposite side of the court. She reacts quickly, running towards the ball and returning with a strong forehand. You are forced to return the ball with a lob.

In the air, the ball curves towards the left, landing just outside the lines. You can only hope that Taeyeon isn't able to return it. But with her usual finesse, she returns the ball with a backhand lob, landing just in front of you. It's your turn to seal the deal with a powerful backhand of your own that hits the corner of the court, earning you the final point of the second set.

You try to keep your composure despite the win, but deep down you're ecstatic.

"Nice job," she compliments you.

You only give her a nod in return.

"So, shall we start the last set?"

"Yeah. Let's."

The chill of the midnight air dissipates as the final set begins. With both of you equally fired up and determined to win, you prepare for the final round.

This is it. The last set of the match. There's no time to lose.

You take the serve, performing a tricky jump serve that she struggles to defend. With a powerful swing, you hit a fastball that she's unable to return. You take the first point.

Taeyeon's serving next. With a fast serve, she catches you off guard and you're unable to defend her serve. The score is now 15-15 in the final set.

The pressure is mounting on you as the set progresses. You want to win. You both do. But there's something in her that drains you of your will. You're not sure if she's just playing a good mind game, or if she really has the upper hand.

The turn to serve goes back to you. You're determined not to let Taeyeon get a free pass. With a slow flat serve, you try to catch her off guard. She returns it with a well-timed forehand. You quickly move towards the ball and return it with a sharp topspin that lands just inside the line. She's unable to return the ball and you score a point.

The score is now 30-15 in your favor. The momentum is shifting in your direction. But it feels as though it isn't.

Taeyeon's serving next, and she looks determined to break the momentum. She hits a fast serve, hoping to catch you off guard. You return it with a powerful forehand. But her next shot is even faster, hitting a topspin that forces you to return it with a weak lob.

At that point, she brandishes her trademark move.

She rushes towards the ball, winding up for a smash. You prepare yourself to counter her attack… Only for Taeyeon to swing her racket sideways as it falls down, hitting the ball with a strong topspin. In a rush, you chase after the ball, but it bounces erratically, almost at a 90-degree angle. Before you can do anything, the ball lands outside the line.

“Drive T” is what she calls it. Not only does she swings her arms in a T shape, but the topspin she generates causes the ball to draw a cross, or rather a small letter T, as it bounces uncontrollably on the court. It’s a move that is very hard to predict, both to the players and spectators alike. You’ve seen her used that technique on many occasions, both to intimidate her opponents and to finish the game quickly. It is her dangerous weapon.

And she just used it against you.

Your jaw hangs open in shock. You can't believe she did that.

"Now that's a topspin!" Taeyeon boasts, laughing.

As much as you want to respond to her, you're not sure if you can. As "friendly" as this game is, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread at how serious this is turning out.

The score is now tied 30-30. The tension is getting even higher, and your mind is racing. You want to win. You need to win.

You take a deep breath as you prepare for your next serve. As calm as you can be, you send the ball towards her with a powerful serve that sails all the way to the other end of the net. But with her quick reflexes, Taeyeon effortlessly returns the serve with a perfectly executed backhand. You send it back with a swift backhand of your own, making her chase the ball towards the sideline. She manages to get to the ball just in time, and with a flick of her wrist, she sends a sharp topspin towards your corner.

Your heart races as you anticipate the spin and speed of the approaching ball, adjusting your movement to counter her shot with a controlled forehand. However, as you send the ball back, she has positioned herself near the net, swinging it downwards with incredible power and speed. You already put all your strength in returning the previous shot that you have no more time left to react accordingly, making the ball slip past you and land out of your reach.

Taeyeon grunts with satisfaction as her shot gives her a crucial point, bringing the score to 40-30 in her favor.

You curse under your breath, realizing that you may have bit off more than you can chew. But you have no option to back down now. All that's left is to turn the tables and win.

You take another deep breath as you wait for her to make her next move.

Your eyes remain locked on Taeyeon as she prepares to serve, her intense focus indicating that she's not going to make this easy for you. What happens next is like a blur as the ball immediately zooms towards you the moment she tosses it into the air, not even letting it wait for gravity to pull it down. With her on match point, she has all the reasons to end this game as quickly as possible.

You quickly run to intercept the ball, swatting it with a powerful forehand. She stays on her toes, moving swiftly to return your shot with a skillful backhand slice that barely clears the net. The distance is quite the challenge, but it's something you can still manage. You make a sprint towards the net, just in time to hit it back with a drop shot that catches Taeyeon off guard. With her nimble feet, she manages to reach the ball, though she has to dive in for the last few inches just to keep the rally going. And with a desperate lob, she sends the ball soaring high into the air, giving you enough time to deliver a crushing overhead smash that lands just inside the baseline, completely out of Taeyeon's reach.

As the ball connects with the court, a sense of triumph washes over you, pumping your fist in the air. You managed to buy yourself some room to breathe in this fiery match and gain a much-needed point, leveling the score at 40-40. Taeyeon recovers herself from her dive, letting out a sigh as she recovers her breathing. You're exhausted yourself, struggling to catch your breath after the intense rally. But there's no time to rest. You lock eyes with her, both of your eyes burning with determination to win over the other. The next serve could very well be the turning point of the entire match.

Once again, it's your turn to serve. Everything is suddenly hazy as if the world around you blurs into a complete mess of colors. All that's clear in your eyes are the ball in your hands, the lines on the court, and the woman in front of you. It could be the adrenaline. It could be the fear of losing. It could be anything. But none of that matters. Send the ball her way, swing it back if she dares to return it, repeat.

The next few rounds are nothing but intense back-and-forth as you and Taeyeon fight for every point. The ball flies across the court in a flurry of precise shots and strategic placement. You're tired as hell, and maybe, so is she. But neither of you can afford to let up even for a moment, not even an inch, as the score remains neck and neck.

After a few deuces and grueling rallies, the tension on the court reaches its peak. She has managed to bring the score to what could potentially be the final point of the entire match. You're both sweating profusely, your bodies glistening under the harsh stadium lights. The cold air that should be a reprieve feels suffocating against your heated skin. She could be on her last legs, but you're kind of on the same page.

You prepare yourself as Taeyeon prepares her to serve, her eyes locked on yours like a hawk, unwavering and intense. Her serve is swift, darting through the air with deadly accuracy. You react quickly, heading forward to meet the ball with a powerful forehand return. She then easily steps into position, returning the ball with a soft backhand shot. You match her shot with a well-executed slice, aiming to throw her off balance. But she still manages to reach the ball with a quick flick of her wrist, sending it sailing over the net with surprising speed and precision.

As the ball hurtles towards you, you summon every ounce of your pent-up aggression to smack the ball back with an explosive topspin shot, making the ball draw a sharp curve towards the sideline. This is all you have left. You can feel your strength draining as you shout your heart out with that final, desperate shot.

Unfortunately… Your tough opponent, Taeyeon, is right there, ready and waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the distance between her and the ball closes as she lunges forward, her body contorting with the grace and agility of a seasoned athlete. And as she swings her racket in a cross through the air, you know that she isn't just going to return the ball - she's sealing the deal with her Drive T. She hits the ball with such power that it spins wildly as soon as it's airborne. You watch it making its landing not far from you and with your heart pounding, you scramble to retrieve it. But with the ball's unpredictable spin, it bounces away from you instead of it landing in your control.

And as the ball bounces down to a stop, Taeyeon wins the match, winning 2 sets to 1.

"Yay! I won!"

She screams in joy and hops up and down with excitement as if all her exhaustion has instantly evaporated. Meanwhile, you collapse to the ground, completely outplayed and spent. As she celebrates her victory, she notices that you've been anchored to the ground. She makes her way towards you, skipping lightly in joy.

Trying not to feel bitter about your defeat, you raise your hand, giving her a thumbs up and a genuine smile. She responds in kind, before extending her hand to help you up.

"Well, looks like you took the match. That was nice," you say as you sit up, catching your breath as you try to compose yourself after the intense match.

"Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment to recover. My legs feel like they're burning, though."

"Oh. Same here… But I'm good."

"Damn. How do you even do that?"

"I told you many times to work on your legs! I always tell you to do more than just jog," she scolds you as if losing to her wasn't enough.

"Alright, alright," you reply, rolling your eyes. "I'll start next week."

"Well you better be," she chuckles, tapping her racket lightly against your shoulder.

You chuckle amidst the exhaustion, the frustration you felt at losing to Taeyeon fading away.

"So, is that your dare for me?" you ask her.

"Hmmm?"

"You won, right?"

"Oh! Right! The bet!" Taeyeon's eyes then widened in realization.

You shake your head lightly, amused by her sudden forgetfulness.

"And you still deny that you're old—ow!"

She smacks you again with her racket, albeit harder this time.

"What did I just say about calling me old?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, what a killjoy," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder.

"What was that?" she taunts, preparing to hit you again.

"Nothing! I said nothing," you quickly respond, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Good!" she exclaims, giggling.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" you repeat, trying not to provoke her.

Her attitude changes quickly.

"You're actually gonna go through with it?"

"I mean, you won, so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, just tell me what you want me to do," you urge her.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating the terms of her victory.

"Well, since I beat you pretty badly…"

"That was close," you protest, only to earn a glare from her.

"It wasn't. Now shut up and listen."

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

"Y'know what? You look like a tired mess right there. Let's head over to the bench and I'll think of a good prize."

"But my body's still—"

She lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Alright. Get up, you lousy ass," she extends her hand, offering to pull you up.

You take it and let her lead the way to the benches. It's not that far, but the short walk to the benches is enough to make your knees wobble and legs ache. The two of you collapse onto the bench, finally able to relax and rest for a bit.

"Jeez, I didn't think the match was gonna be that hard. You did really well," she says, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Well… I was against you, after all. Of course, it'll be hard," you respond, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Hey! Don't get me wrong. It's still a nice game."

"I guess. Thanks," you say, shrugging.

A moment of silence ensues, and the two of you sit quietly, basking in the cool air. Despite feeling sore, a little break is all you need to recharge after the intense game. You then look at Taeyeon, and she doesn't seem to show any signs of exhaustion, despite sweating profusely and having her breath ragged after the match.

"Say, how come you don't look as tired as I am?" you ask her, breaking the silence.

"Well, for starters, I've got a lot more years of experience than you," she quips, grinning smugly.

You roll your eyes and sigh, too tired to give a smart retort.

"But seriously, though. You should take better care of your body. You're still young," she says, her tone sounding more like a concerned mother than a friend.

"You've been saying that for a while now," you grumble.

"Well, that's because I was your teacher! Jeez! Don't be so stubborn," she protests, giving your shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm just tired," you then let out another deep breath. "You took all the air out of me"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm telling you to take care of your body better," she says, her tone firm.

"Okay, fine," you concede.

"Now, shall we move on?"

"Sure. Let's talk about my dare," you say, eager to finally know what she wants.

"Right. Are you sure you're in on this?"

"I'm sure. Yeah," you assure her.

"100%? No take-backs, okay?"

"If it's not anything too extreme."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

You look at her, and she smirks at you. Something tells you that you'll regret this, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Fine. Shoot it."

"Pull down your shorts."

Your jaw hangs open. You expected her to ask for a silly dare, like a funny photo or something along those lines. But this? You didn't expect this at all.

"H-huh? W-what did you just say?" you stammer, your cheeks burning red.

"Come on. It's not gonna kill you."

"But… That's—"

"Just a little fun, really."

You're speechless, your eyes wide as you process the words.

"I… I don't think I can do that."

"Hey. The deal was the loser has to do everything the winner asks, right? You lost. So, do it."

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh. There's no getting around this.

"Okay… Fine," you reluctantly agree, slowly sliding down your shorts.

The fabric brushes against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Your heart beats fast, your palms sweating profusely as you slowly reveal more and more of your bare thighs. Your boxers are the only thing separating your modesty from the woman sitting beside you, and you can't deny her the sight of your growing erection.

Taeyeon's lips curl into a satisfied grin, and she bites her lower lip as she sees the tent forming between your legs.

"You're really turned on by this, huh?" she says, teasing you.

"It… It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure, whatever you say," she giggles.

"So… Is this it? Did I pass the dare?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, technically… But now I'm interested in something else," she replies, her voice dropping an octave.

"And? What would that be?"

"Let's just say I want to see what's underneath those boxers."

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, and you instinctively cross your legs.

"Noona… There could be people watching us," you tell her, scanning the entire area.

"It's 3 AM. Do you think those guards will even bother walking around at this hour? No one's gonna see," she reasons.

"But…"

"The deal?"

"Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Slowly, you take a deep breath and reach down for your boxers.

"Ugh… What am I doing?" you mumble, cursing at yourself.

You grab the hem and pull down the fabric grazing against your shaft. Your erection springs up, freed from the confines of your underwear.

"Wow. Now that's quite a view," Taeyeon chuckles, ogling your exposed member.

You turn away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey. Don't be. Especially when you have this…" she bites her lip, her eyes fixated on your dick. "Big thing right there."

Your cheeks burn a bright red, and you feel like you could explode.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course not! Come on, you can't tell me it's not hot."

You stay silent, unable to answer.

"Alright. Lemme suck that," she says, leaning in closer to you.

"W-what? Y-you can't be serious!"

"Hey. No take-backs."

"But this is—"

"Listen. You clearly look like you're not in on this."

"I… I didn't say that…"

"So? What's with the hesitation?"

"I-it's just that… This is kind of sudden," you reply, unable to think straight.

"Then let me ease you into it," she says, grabbing your dick with her hand.

Your breath hitches, the sudden contact of her soft hand against your sensitive shaft taking you by surprise. She slowly moves her hand up and down, gently massaging your dick. You can't help but let out a low moan as her fingers run across the tip, sending shivers down your spine.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I don't know…" you manage to say, your mind in a daze.

She smirks at your reaction, totally getting turned on by your response.

"You did your best so… I'll give you a consolation prize."

"H-huh? What do you mean?"

Before you can say anything, she leans in, her face just inches away from your cock.

"Wait… You can't be serious. You're going to—"

"Let me give you a little treat. You can tell me to stop after, but I hope you won't,” she says, her warm breath brushing against your shaft. “It'll be a shame, really,"

You're speechless, your mouth hanging open as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Well, here I go," she announces, leaning forward and enveloping your cock with her lips.

The sudden warmth sends a shock through your body, and you let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She starts sucking on the tip, and her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the beads of precum. You can't believe it, but it feels so good. Your breathing quickens as she continues to suck, taking your dick deeper into her mouth. She moans against your cock, and you can feel her voice vibrating through your shaft.

"Oh, fuck…" you curse, the pleasure driving you insane.

She then grabs the base of your shaft with her hand and starts stroking you in sync with her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it tightly. She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster as her head bobs up and down. Her eyes lock with yours, and she's clearly enjoying this. You can see the lust in her eyes, and it's all too much for you.

The pressure builds up, your mind goes blank, and all you can think about is the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense up, and before you know it, your body starts shaking uncontrollably. You can feel your balls tightening, and the urge to cum is overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With one final thrust, you unload your seed into her mouth. Taeyeon suddenly looks surprised as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her mouth. She then pulls out, coughing, the excess dripping down her chin.

"Sorry! I didn't know if you were ready," you apologize, worried that you might have forced her.

She continues to cough, and she wipes the excess cum off her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It's okay. I was kinda taken by surprise, but it's fine," she manages to say, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry. I just couldn't hold it any longer," you apologize again, embarrassed by what happened.

"I told you it's okay," she tells you.

"Well… If you say so."

"And besides… It's not every day that I get to do it with a virgin," she winks as she lets out a soft laugh.

"Hey! I'm no virgin!" you protest, trying to defend your ego.

"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I… I've experienced this before," you mutter.

"Sure, and that's why I got a mouthful," she chuckles, licking her lips.

"I was… I was holding out!" you retort.

"But of course," she laughs. "Just admit that you're a total virgin."

You're left speechless, unable to defend yourself. She just grins at you, clearly amused by your reaction. You want to say something, but she has you beat.

"Alright… Off to the next one!" she then exclaims, looking rather excited.

"Next one?"

"You didn't think I was just gonna leave you like this, did you? We're just getting started," she winks, giving your dick a squeeze.

"Wait, what?"

"That was just the warm-up. I have a lot of other things planned for us."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say this is gonna be the night of your life. And by the time the sun rises, you'll be thanking me,"

"I'm not so sure about this…"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassures you, flashing you a devious smile.

She lets go of your dick. You feel relieved that her tight grip is no longer on your throbbing cock, but also a bit disappointed at the loss of her warm touch. She then takes off her clothes, exposing her voluptuous body. Her breasts are barely covered by an orange lace bra, and her hips are accentuated by a matching thong. You gulp as you take in the sight, and you can feel your dick getting even harder.

"What's wrong? Getting nervous?" she asks, giggling.

"Uh, yeah. This is really sudden. I'm not sure what's going on," you admit, unable to look away from her gorgeous body.

"Come on, it's nothing you can't handle. Just enjoy it," she says, grabbing your hand and placing it on her waist.

You can't deny the electricity that runs through your body the moment her skin makes contact with yours. Her body is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to touch her. It's intoxicating at the least, and you can't help but be swept up by the moment.

"Now, I'll let you have a taste of my body. You better make the most of it," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation driving you wild.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"I…"

"It's okay. You can touch me," she assures you, guiding your hands towards her breasts.

"But, Noona…"

"Touch me more."

You hesitate for a moment, but she urges you on, and you give in.

Your fingers trace the outline of her bra, feeling her erect nipples through the fabric. As if by instinct, you gently squeeze her breasts, eliciting a moan from her.

"Mmmh… That's it. More," she purrs, arching her back.

Your heart races as her breasts push against your palms, her nipples rubbing against the thin material of her bra. The friction feels incredible, and the pleasure drives you crazy. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you don't want it to end.

"You're so cute. You look like you're enjoying this," she teases, smiling.

Guilty as charged.

"Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

She then presses her lips against yours, her tongue pushing past your lips. Your tongues dance, and you savor her sweet taste. She then nibbles on your lower lip, and you can't help but moan.

"Nggh! Noona, wait," you breathe out, pulling away from her.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"I… I think this is too fast."

She giggles. "Awh. Poor thing."

She then cups your face with her hand and kisses you again, a much slower, passionate kiss this time. You feel her smile against your lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It feels so good, so addicting. Yet you don't want to admit it.

"Taeyeon-noona, I…"

"Do you want to take it slow?"

You only gave her a nod.

"There. Just tell me what you want."

She then reaches back and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side. Her bare breasts glisten under the dim lighting, and you can't help but stare in awe.

"There. I hope this evens us out," she smirks. You can see her cheeks blushing as she puts her magnificent assets on full display.

"Y-you don't have to, y'know? I'm fine with—"

Before you can utter another word, she pulls you towards her, pressing your face against her plump, supple breasts. Muffled, you try to push back, but she holds you firmly against her, not letting go. The warmth of her skin and the softness of her breasts overwhelm your senses, slowly melting your hesitations away.

Before you know it, you feel your hands explore the rest of her exposed body, gliding across everything you can reach.

She can't help but laugh and moan simultaneously as you explore her body.

"Getting braver, aren’t we?"

You choose not to answer and instead let your actions speak for you.

Taeyeon's skin feels so soft and smooth, and it's a wonder to touch. You can't help but want to touch her even more, to explore every inch of her. You suck on her erect nipples, and her breath hitches, letting out a soft moan.

"That's it. Take it all in," she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart races as her scent fills your nose, and it's driving you crazy. You can't help but want more, and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

"Taeyeon-noona…"

"Shhhh… Don't say a word. Just enjoy it," she replies, her voice low and seductive.

Obliging, you continue to taste her, relishing in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Your hands travel across her body, touching every inch of her. She bites her lip and arches her back as you trace the curve of her spine, and her breathing quickens as you explore her thighs.

"Oh, fuck…" she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands then find their way to her butt, and you squeeze her cheeks, feeling the soft, firm flesh in your hands. She looks at you with lustful eyes, and you can see the desire written all over her face.

"Oh, my… You're getting good at this," she purrs, smiling seductively.

You blush slightly, her compliment clearly lifting your confidence. You shoot a smile back at her, fueled with confidence and hunger for more. She smirks at your newfound boldness, welcoming your hunger with equal enthusiasm.

Your lips lock with hers for another round of torrid passion, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each passing second. Your tongues dance in a fiery tango, exploring every crevice and making each other elicit a fervent moan. Neither of you is backing down, eager to win over the other as if your earlier spar wasn't enough.

"Noona, you're… Amazing," you manage to gasp between heated kisses, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

She smirks. "You're no slouch either."

"But, you… I…"

"Mhhh… Don't stop now," Taeyeon whispers, her voice dripping with need.

"But let me just…" you struggle to remove your shirt despite the urgency of the moment.

With her expert guidance, you quickly shed your shirt and throw it aside, giving your partner an unobstructed view of your bare chest.

"There we go. Better?"

"Yeah. You were on top of me so I had trouble taking it off." you jest, a playful smirk spreading across your face.

She then chuckles, hitting you playfully on the shoulder.

"And you blame me for that?"

"Why not? You keep on pushing me down."

"Jeez… I'm not that heavy, you know?"

"I know, I know. You're just so aggressive," you tease, running your fingers through her skin.

Taeyeon coos at your touch, her body pulsating with desire.

"Hmmm? Is that your way of flirting with me?"

You shrug. "Well… It's worth a shot."

She replies with a soft chuckle.

"Consider it a successful shot," she breathes, her voice laced with lust.

You blush, feeling a surge of pride at having successfully aroused Taeyeon.

"Well… Thank you."

"Then let's get back to it, shall we?" She purrs, her hands eagerly tracing the contours of your chest all the way to your abdomen. You shiver at her touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

She then looks at you with an inviting gaze, and her lips curl into a sly grin. You can't help but stare in awe, mesmerized by her beauty.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, silly," she giggles. "I want you to touch me, too."

"Oh. Right."

"I can't be the only one enjoying this, y'know?"

"My bad, noona."

You resume your passionate makeout session. The two of you moan against each other's lips, exploring each other's bodies. The two of you are so lost in the moment that the world around you begins to fade, and all that matters is the heat, the electricity, the passion.

"Fuck. You taste so good," Taeyeon moans, her voice dripping with lust.

"Mmmh… You do too. Fuck," you reply, the heat and desire growing within you.

"But seriously…"

"Hmmm?"

"Learn to get a hint," she giggles.

"Heh. Sorry," you mumble, trying to regain control. "I was kinda lost."

"Understandable," she snickers. "It's your first time, after all."

"H-hey. You're making me sound like a virgin."

"Well… You kinda are."

"Come on now…"

Taeyeon can't help but chuckle at your response, amused by your reaction.

"Fine. Let's not talk about that."

"I'm not that innocent, you know," you retort, pouting.

"Really, now?"

"Y-yeah. Really."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further… Right?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of what she means.

"Well… I guess?"

"Good."

She then reaches down and slowly pulls down her panties. You just realize how wet she is as you stare in awe. She then grabs your hand and leads it to her core. You hesitate for a moment, but she guides you, urging you to take things further.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

You gently cup her mound, feeling the slickness of her wet folds. Her pussy is hot, and her juices flow freely. She shudders as your fingers brush against her sensitive bud, and her body tenses up.

"Yes… That's it!" she moans, biting her lip.

"Is this it? Are you sure?"

"Mhmm… Just go ahead."

Your fingers explore her core, and you find her swollen clit. You rub her bundle of nerves in a circular motion, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good."

"Are you sure? Am I doing it right?"

"Yes! Just keep going," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper.

You increase the pace, applying a bit more pressure. She writhes under your touch, her body trembling with pleasure.

"F-fuck… Y-yes!" she moans, her voice shaking.

The heat is building within you, and you can't hold back any longer. You decide to switch positions, with Taeyeon now resting her body on the bench. At this view, she looks so small, so inviting. You proceed to kiss her thighs as your hand continues its assault.

"Mmmh! Oh shit! Yes! Keep going!"

You then kiss her core, licking her wet folds. She shrieks, her voice ringing in your ears. She grabs a fistful of your hair, holding on for dear life. You then lick her clit, eliciting a loud moan from her. She can't hold on much longer, her body writhing in ecstasy.

"Fuck! You're so good! I'm… I'm close!"

You can't help but be proud, and you redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit. She arches her back, and she screams, her orgasm tearing through her body.

"I'm gonna cum! Shit! I'm gonna fucking—aghh!"

You watch as her body spasms, and her legs quiver. She rides out her orgasm, her body trembling with each wave of pleasure. She finally collapses, panting, her body slick with sweat.

"Holy shit. That was… Amazing," she breathes, her voice shaky.

"Did… Did I do good?"

"Of course, you did. Not bad for a first-timer."

"Well… Thanks."

"Now, let me return the favor," she says, a smirk spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn now," she says, licking her lips.

"B-but I already—"

She interrupts, putting a finger against your lips.

"I know you have some left in you" Her hands move down towards your privates, massaging every bit of it. "And besides…"

She then leans over and whispers to your ear, her voice seductive.

"I'm still not satisfied."

As if on cue, you can feel your member throbbing in response, as if beckoning her to touch you even more.

"Looks like someone's ready for more," she giggles.

"Hey… I'm just sensitive," you protest, looking at her with your best puppy-dog eyes.

Taeyeon lets out a laugh, seemingly caught off-guard by your adorable attempt at innocence.

"Oh, cut that out. That doesn't suit you in the slightest," she playfully retorts.

"I just thought I'd give it a try," you reply, looking disappointed.

"Don't you ever do that again, alright?"

"Why not?"

She then pulls you closer. You can see the sheer desire in her eyes burning through her gaze. She seems to want more from you than just a casual encounter.

"I don't want cute and innocent from you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to be as fierce as you were earlier," she whispers, her tone low and seductive.

"As you wish, Miss Winner," you say, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

"Show me what you got," she says, her tone challenging.

Without a moment's hesitation, you crash your lips against hers for yet another round, kissing her passionately. She reciprocates, and her hands grip your body, her nails digging into your skin. It hurts, but the pain is drowned out by the intense pleasure.

You break the kiss and attack her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. She moans, and her hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer. You continue your assault, and she writhes underneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ooh, shit! Yes! That's it!" she gasps, her voice cracking.

You continue your trail down her body, planting soft kisses along her collarbone. She whimpers, and her hands run through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. You then move further south, planting a soft kiss on her chest, right between her breasts.

"Yes… Yes! Please, keep going," she whispers, her voice breathy and needy.

You then plant another kiss on her left breast, followed by a soft bite on her nipple, making her whimper.

"Ahh shit!" she groans, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No… Please don't," she pleads, her voice dripping with need.

"Well then," you say, kissing her other breast, biting her nipple.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Like that?"

"Yes! I like that!"

"What about this?"

You move further south, trailing kisses down her belly. She moans as your lips caress her skin, her body writhing with pleasure. You then reach her thighs, and you give them a soft kiss.

"Yes! Oh, god!" she moans, her body trembling.

You then spread her legs apart, exposing her pink pussy, glistening with her juices.

"Oh, fuck. Look at you," you marvel, staring at her womanhood.

"I know. It's fucking amazing," she says, a satisfied smile on her face.

You then move closer, and your tongue finds her slit. You slowly drag your tongue along her wet folds, eliciting a moan from her. She throws her head back, her eyes closed, as she relishes in the sensation.

"Shit! There it goes again! That fucking tongue!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She opens her eyes, staring right at you.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Alright," you chuckle, continuing your assault.

You lap at her wet folds, lapping up her juices. You savor her sweet, musky taste, and it makes you feel drunk.

"Ooh, shit! That's the spot," she gasps, her hands gripping the back of your head.

You continue your assault, licking her clit and teasing her wet entrance. Her body trembles and her moans get louder.

"Ooh, fuck! I'm getting close," she pants, her voice shaky.

You intensify your assault, sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers inside her.

"Are you gonna cum?" you ask, staring right into her eyes.

"I'm… I'm close," she whimpers, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes… Yes! I want to cum!" she gasps, her hips bucking.

As her screams go a few pitches higher, you let go of her. Taeyeon is left hanging, her body shaking with frustration.

"Huh? W-what the fuck?"

"I don't want you to cum yet," you explain.

"But I was so close, you fuck! You could've—"

You withdraw fully from assaulting her core, only to show her your own erection standing at full attention.

"I could've just let you cum…"

You position your shaft against her pussy, brushing her entrance.

"But I want to do it…"

You rub your shaft against her wet slit, making her groan.

"When I'm inside you."

"Oh f-fuck," she bites her lip, anticipating your next move.

"This is what you wanted all along, right?"

You press your tip against her entrance, and her eyes widen.

"Yes. You finally get—ooh!"

You continue to tease her, rubbing your cock against her entrance.

"Then, shall I?"

"Yes. I want you to—agh fuck!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I… I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

You continue to tease her, pushing the tip of your cock into her, making her moan.

"I don't think you're sincere, noona," you tease, pushing your cock further into her.

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me and start fucking me, you asshole!" she cries out in desperation.

"Then tell it to me like you mean it," you tell her, tapping her entrance with your length.

Her hips then shake as if begging for something. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are filled with lust and need.

"Please… I need it," she whimpers, her voice shaking and full of need.

"Then say it, Taeyeon."

She grits her teeth, and her eyes glaring at you, filled with both anger and frustration.

"Fuck me, alright? Fuck me like you mean it! I want you to fill me up and make me cum! Make me scream! Make me fucking lose my mind! I need it! I need your fucking dick inside me! Right. Fucking. Now!"

Without warning, you push your cock into her, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from her.

"You mean like this?"

"Ah! Ahh fuck!"

You slam your cock into her, and she moans, her body shuddering.

"Enjoying this, aren't you, noona?"

"Fuck… I'm really gonna cum!"

Her back arches and her hands grip the bench. You continue to fuck her, and her moans get louder. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and her body trembles.

"Shit! Shit! I'm cumming—ahh!"

Taeyeon screams, her body quaking in pleasure as her orgasm rocks through her body. Excess fluids gush from her core, coating your shaft and dribbling onto the bench, until it creates a small puddle underneath. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her expression filled with pure ecstasy.

She then falls limp, her body relaxing as her orgasm subsides. She looks at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

"How was it, noona? Was it good?"

"That was… Incredible," she manages to say, her voice still shaky.

"I'm glad I was able to satisfy you," you chuckle, pulling her into an embrace.

"Yeah… You did good for a newbie," she smirks, chuckling.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But you still have a lot to—ooh!"

You slam your cock into her, catching her by surprise.

"You say that but…"

You thrust in and out, and her eyes widen.

"Looks like you're losing your mind…"

"Oh fuck."

"To a virgin," you slam your cock deep inside her, her body shaking.

"Ahh! This fucking cock! Ahh!"

"So, tell me… What was that you said again?"

You pound her relentlessly, and her moans get louder. Her body shakes, and her breathing is ragged. For a stick-up mentor and tennis partner, she sure is enjoying her role reversal.

"I… I can't… Fuck! Oh, shit!"

"Pretty please?" you ask, slowing down the pace of your thrusts.

"N-no! No! Please don't slow down!" she pleads, her voice trembling.

"Then say it."

"Oh fuck you—ahh! I can't take it anymore!"

"I can do this all day."

"Agh! You asshole!"

You slam into her, and she screams, her body convulsing.

"Fuck! Not that spot!"

"Say it, Taeyeon. Say it."

With her face painted red in anger and embarrassment, she gives in.

"F-fine. Fine! You… I love your fucking cock! Your fucking virgin cock!" she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the court.

"That's it. Let everyone hear you."

"Oh, fuck. I fucking love you," she moans, her voice dripping with need.

Her last few words catch you off-guard, but the sight of her drunk-hazed face and her pleasured moans make you forget it almost immediately.

"Then I'm yours."

You slam into her once more, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. With arms around your back, she pulls you in as she incoherently screams into your ear. Taeyeon has finally lost her mind, and you love to see it.

"Oh fuhg… It'sh sho gud!"

"What is good, huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock… Your cock ish sho gud," she whimpers, her body spasming.

"And how does my cock feel inside you?"

"Sho big… It'sh filling my pusshy sho mush!"

"And whose is it?"

"Yoursh! All yours! My pusshy ish yoursh!"

"I can't quite hear you, noona."

"Your pusshy! It'sh all yoursh!"

"Good. Keep telling me. I love to hear it."

"Aahhh… Y-your cock… Fuck me more!"

You fuck her senseless, and her body writhes in pleasure. She continues to babble nonsense, her mind gone blank from the pleasure. You continue to slam into her, her tight cunt sucking in your shaft. You can feel her walls clenching, her pussy desperate to milk your cock.

"Taeyeon-noona, fuck… You feel so good."

"Aah! More! Give me more!"

"You want more? How about this?"

You then pick her up and fuck her as she's suspended in the air. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is agape.

"Oh fuhk… No. No!

She screams, and her legs wrap around your waist. You hold onto her tight, and your pace quickens.

"Oh, shit! You're sho deep!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Ahh… Y-yesh… More… Harder!"

"As you wish, noona."

You increase your pace, slamming into her faster and harder. With her light, small frame, you can go deeper than before, as if it's nothing. Or maybe all that rigorous training is finally paying off.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Y-yesh… I like it…"

"Good. Now, let me give you a reward."

You thrust faster and deeper, and her moans get louder. And as you do, you can feel your balls churn, the pressure building within them.

"Oh, fuck. Taeyeon-noona, I'm going to cum soon," you warn her, feeling the sensation rising.

"Yesh… Ghiv me your cum!"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yesh! Let me have it!"

"Alright then."

You amp up the pace as you reach your climax, and your thrusts get harder and faster. Her body is shaking, and her voice cracks as she moans uncontrollably.

"Oh fuhk! Here it cumsh!"

You slam into her one last time, burying your cock deep inside her. With a loud moan, you erupt, unloading a torrent of hot, thick cum. She screams, her voice ringing through the court, as your load fills her up, flooding her womb with seed. She clenches her eyes shut, and her hands grip your shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, noona… I can't stop!"

"Jush giv it all to me!"

You keep pouring into her, not stopping for a moment. Her body shakes, and her pussy tightens, squeezing out every last drop. You feel like you're being squeezed dry. Painful, yes, but you can't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… I think I'm done…" you finally gasp, your thrusts slowing down.

"Ahh… So mush cum…" she sighs, her voice breathy and sultry.

You pull out of her, and her eyes are unfocused. A deluge of white ooze seeps out of her pink hole, a mixture of your fluids and hers. You can't believe the amount you have ejected, and neither can Taeyeon, as it creates a larger puddle on the ground.

"Holy shit," she gasps, her glazed eyes widening with disbelief.

"Fuck… I think I went overboard," you tell her, watching your semen flow out of her.

"You let out… So much…" she breathes, her weak body barely holding her upright.

"Well, I couldn't control myself. Not with you."

"Hahh… Thanks," she smiles, a hint of pride in her tone.

You both catch your breaths, the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Your body tells you that you've exhausted your reserves, and maybe so did Taeyeon's. But the sight and sound of your previous actions still linger in your head and your desire for more remains.

"Say… Noona…"

"Yeah."

Your shaft slowly stands back up, throbbing at her entrance and eager to continue. She lets out a soft gasp as she notices your eagerness. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, fueling your hunger even more.

"Can we?"

"You're restless today, aren't you?" she giggles.

"Can't help it," you grin, rubbing your length against her slit.

"Fuck… That feels so good," she moans, closing her eyes.

"So? Can we?"

"Hmmm… Alright. I guess one more time wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," you tell her, a big grin forming on your face.

"So, what do you want to—whoa!"

Before she could finish, you swiftly lowered her to the ground and spread her legs apart. You position yourself in front of her, your shaft poised and ready. She looks at your erection, her face flushing a shade of red.

"Fuck… Here we go again," she sighs, anticipation in her eyes.

You then guide your shaft into her, and she whimpers, her pussy swallowing you whole.

"Urgh! You're so fucking tight, noona!"

"More like you're too fucking big," she grunts, her walls straining to accommodate your girth.

"And you're loving it," you reply, smiling sheepishly.

"Mhmm…" she nods, biting her lip.

"That's what I like to hear," you smirk, and without warning, start thrusting.

"Ahh! Oh shit! Fuck me harder!"

You comply, slamming your cock into her at a rapid pace. Her voice echoes through the court, a melody that fills you with immense satisfaction. The sound of her skin slapping against yours only adds to the pleasure, and you find yourself thrusting even harder.

"Fuck… Yes… Harder! Fucking pound my pussy!"

You slam into her faster, harder, and deeper. Her body writhes with pleasure, her hips bucking and her legs quivering. She can't help but wrap her arms around you, her hands digging into your skin. Her legs also have you locked in, the intensity of her hold surprising.

"Shit, Taeyeon-noona… You're so good," you groan, relishing the tightness of her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Keep fucking me like that!" she cries, her voice cracking.

"Here? Like this?"

You hit a spot inside her, and her body jolts.

"Aghh! Yes! There! Right fucking there!"

"You like that?"

"Yes! Fuck! I fucking love it!"

You continue to slam into her, wild like a beast in heat, hitting the same spot over and over again. She can't stop screaming, her voice cracking and her body shuddering with pleasure. and her pussy clenches around you, tightening even more. You can't help but let out a groan, the sensation driving you mad. You feel her orgasm coming, and you're not far behind.

"Shit… Noona, I'm gonna cum again!"

"Me too… Me too!"

"Hrgh! Here it goes! Take it all!"

"Yes! Cum with me! Cum inside me! Fill me up with your fucking cum!"

You feel the pressure rising, and you can't hold it any longer. You ram your cock deep into her, and with one last thrust, you let out a primal roar, releasing a torrent of hot cum into her. She screams, her voice ringing through the court as your thick load fills her up once again.

She cums right after, her pussy convulsing around your cock, unleashing a flood of her own juices. As if a dam had been burst, her fluids flowed freely, gushing out of her pussy and coating your cock. It's as if you're drowning, the intensity is overwhelming.

"Oh fukh! There'sh sho mush!"

"Taeyeon… You're so… Tight!" you gasp, your cock trapped by her pussy.

Not that you can, nor that you could. Your hips continue to buck, the pleasure almost unbearable. It's as if her cunt is trying to squeeze every last drop out of you, and it's succeeding. You keep pouring into her, filling her womb up to the brim.

"Ahh! It'sh not shtopping! Your cum ish sho mush!"

As your thrusts come to a halt, you slam your cock one last time, burying yourself deep inside her. Excess fluid squirts out of her, adding to the already impressive puddle underneath you. You can feel her pussy milking your shaft, squeezing out the last drop of cum.

After what seems like an eternity, your orgasm subsides, and you slowly pull out of her, your cock still oozing with cum. She sighs, and a copious amount of white liquid drips from her entrance. A mixture of both your cum and hers. After your earlier outburst, you can't believe how much you manage to let out, and neither could she.

"Fughk… Sho mush…" she pants, her eyes glassy.

"Noona… That was intense," you tell her, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuhk. Yes… I feel sho dihzzy."

You can't help but chuckle at her expression, her face flushed with exhaustion.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I guesh," she mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

You then carry her as you sit on the bench, her exhausted body resting against yours. With her remaining strength, she slowly wraps her arms around your back, pulling herself closer. You reciprocate, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Ow, ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're hugging me too hard!"

"Oh. Sorry. I went overboard, noona."

"Heh. Don't be," she laughs, nuzzling against you.

The two of you spend some time recovering from your intense session, the cool breeze a nice reprieve from the sweltering. She then looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"What? Do you want more?" you ask.

"No, I'm tired… Just hold me, okay?"

"If you say so," you chuckle, giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

She giggles, snuggling against you.

"We were kinda loud, weren't we?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

"I hope not," you chuckle, rubbing her shoulders.

"I do!"

From somewhere on the bleachers, a man's voice suddenly blurts out, emerges, the sound of his shoes echoing through the court. Your heart sinks as the two of you search for the source, finding a man sitting on the bleachers.

"Oh shit. There was someone," you gasp, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry for not telling you two," the stranger, wearing what might me a janitor's uniform, apologizes, looking rather bashful.

"How long were you there?" Taeyeon asks, yelling, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"I heard screaming and moaning, so I went to check it out. And there I saw the two of you going at it."

"And you didn't stop us?" she retorts.

"Why would I? You lovebirds seem to be enjoying it," the stranger says, his tone nonchalant.

You and Taeyeon then exchanged glances, your faces blushing red.

"And besides…"

The two of you look back at the stranger.

"Security here doesn't give a shit during these hours."

"Really? Do they not monitor the cameras?"

"They do."

You both shudder at his response.

"But they'd rather get some shut-eye than deal with any after-hours shenanigans," he answers, chuckling at his own statement.

"So… Do they not care about what happens here?"

"Are you crazy? We've seen enough of that stuff already! It's common during these hours."

The stranger's words echoed in your ears, leaving you both stunned and relieved by the realization that your bold escapade wasn't as discreet as you

"Heh. I guess I did pick the right time---ow!"

Taeyeon suddenly hits you in between your playful comment with a playful yet embarrassed smirk on her face.

"You sonovabitch! You let people watch us? In public, of all places? I hate you!"

"Hey! Hey! It was your idea to have some fun in public," you protest, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

"But you made the reservation! You sneaky fuck… You probably knew about this!"

She continues to scold you, her words laced with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. For such a soft punch, they sure are quite painful.

"No, I swear! I didn't know anyone would be here!"

"I swear, the next time you have your way with me, I will…"

"Hey. Don't blame me! You pulled me in on this!"

"Why you…"

"Before you lovers continue to be all playful and whatnot…" the janitor interrupts, "You might want to pack things up."

"Huh?" the two of you ask in unison.

He then points towards the sky as the dawning sun begins to peek over the horizon. You quickly check the time on your phone and realize that the time you reserved for your outdoor rendezvous is nearly up. With your exhausted bodies and flushed faces, you hurriedly gather your belongings, discarded clothes and all, trying your best to fix yourselves as fast and as composed as possible.

"What about the mess?" Taeyeon suddenly blurts out, her cheeks still flushed from the recent activities.

"What mess?" you ask, your focus shifting between the looming sunrise and Taeyeon's concerned expression.

"This mess!" She gestures towards the puddles of sweat and other bodily fluids that soak the bench and the concrete ground beneath it.

You exchange a panicked glance, realizing the evidence of your passionate encounter is scattered for all to see.

"What are we gonna do with this?" she exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Fuck… Uhh, shit! Gimme a sec…"

You quickly think of ways to resolve the situation.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," the janitor calls out, waving his hand dismissively.

"What? You're gonna clean all this?" you ask, a mix of relief and surprise in your voice.

"Uhh… Yeah! That's my job," he chuckles.

"Well… Thank you, sir!" you yell, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Taeyeon cries out, her voice ringing with relief. She then pulls your arm, nudging you to leave the scene with her. "We have to go!"

You and Taeyeon then rush towards the exit, your hearts pounding with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. From what was initially a harmless tennis practice session, things took an unexpectedly erotic turn, allowing you and your partner to unleash all your pent-up desires in a frisky and uninhibited display of passion. Fucking on a public tennis court was definitely not part of the plan, but it was an experience neither of you would soon forget.

"Ugh… Walking without underwear is the worst," you groan as you and Taeyeon hurriedly walk outside of the building, your exhausted dick swaying freely beneath your shorts.

"You think? I haven't even put anything underneath in a hurry!" she replies, frustration lacing her voice. Her breasts bounce under her clothes with each hurried step. "Hngh… I can feel some of your cum dripping down my thighs."

"It does?" you ask, shocked and curious, leaning in to inspect her arousing situation. "Lemme see…"

She then prepares to swing her arm to hit you. Her face furious yet blushing.

"Don't you even dare!"

"Alright, alright. My bad," you chuckle, raising your hands in surrender.

As the sight of the parking lot comes into view, the two of you sprint towards your car, not minding of anything else around. You quickly open the passenger door for Taeyeon, and she jumps in eagerly. You then jump into the driver's seat, heart pounding with nervousness and you start the engine and leave the place for good.

"Right," you breathe out as you adjust yourself in your seat.

"Let's go to my place," she tells you.

"Well, duh. Of course I'll drop you at your place, noona. Where else would I even…"

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘no’?"

"I mean, you're all sweaty and whatnot, so…"

Twiddling with her hair, Taeyeon then looks at you with a coy expression on her face.

"If you want… You can take a shower at my place. I wouldn’t mind.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

And that's another SNSD member written down! I'm halfway there... Maybe. I really can't imagine her other than the "Noona You'd Like to Date" and with my renewed interest over the "Prince of Tennis" series, I thought I'd give this idea a shot. I don't know much about tennis tho... So I hope I did a decent job at least. 🙏

Also... Some of you may not know this, but a few hours from now is my Queen Taeyeon's birthday! Going 35 and still one of the hottest idols in the industry. God-fucking-damn. 🥵

I have more stories lined up (and waiting to be written by yours truly OMFG I hate myself) and I'm very eager to share them to everyone. The "Spotlight" series is still. Don't worry. I didn't forget about it and hopefully I don't. I just thought of making stories of other idols in between to break it up a bit.

Once again, thank you to @capslocked and @sparkynsfws for your help in polishing this story, as well as to @braaan for yet another fire poster. Thank you so much! 🤗

Thank you for reading! 🙇

[esthercore]

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

[sinsmockingbird]

GOOD LUCK, BABE | Zoya

PAIRING: College!AU!Zoya x College!AU!Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, NSFW, Dom!Character, Sub!Reader, College!AU, Bad Girl!Zoya, Little Miss Perfect!Reader, Trans!Zoya, Zoya has a penis, Heavy Cheating, Reader is cheating on their boyfriend with Zoya, Jealousy, Hate Fucking, Fingering, Alludes to Unprotected Sex.

CREDITS: Credit to @sea-lanterns for making the banner

AUTHORS NOTE: Probably the longest fic I've ever written. I actually decided to change the ending to something else last minute, as I realized the original could be triggering. Instead, enjoy a very very sad (slightly rushed) ending.

YOUR AN epitome of perfection in the eyes of many.

From the students at the college you attend, to the professors and school staff, you were a woman who could do no wrong. You were the student council president of your prestigious college, the captain of the women's soccer team, and the school's debate team leader. You were involved in everything at your school, from the events being held to the various clubs and societies. You knew everyone and everyone knew you.

At least, everyone thought they knew you. But who could ever imagine that little miss perfect had chosen the college’s bad girl and the drummer of a band, as the person she would start an affair with?

◃───────────▹

It was late at night, about 1 in the morning. You were laying back in your bed, disheveled and trying to catch your breath while Zoya collapsed beside you, who was equally disheveled and out of breath. You weren’t sure how long you both had been going at it, but it was long enough for you to feel too sore to move.

“Too much?” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, a soft chuckle falling from her lips as she moved onto her side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. You looked gorgeous in her eyes with that post orgasm glow to you.

You laughed softly at her question, pressing your body close to hers. “No. It was perfect.”

It was always perfect with Zoya. Whether you were having a quickie, a rough fucking, or even love making, it was always perfect. She just did everything right, and it was only made better with how well she’s learned your body.

“Good.” Zoya hummed in content, relaxing against your bed while holding you close. It was these moments she loved the most where it was just the two of you. No outside eyes, no knowledge of what you did known to others, just you and her in this relaxing silence.

“Are you coming to Chelsea’s party today?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at her, admiring every little detail of her face that you normally wouldn’t be able to.

“Mhm. Kinda have to.” Zoya answered, gazing down at you, the blue of her eyes more prominent in the soft darkness of your room. When you gave her a look, she quickly continued. “The band’s performing, at the request of Chelsea. So, yeah, I’m technically obligated to be there. Like you are.”

You simply hummed at her words, your eyes moving down to her chest. You raised a hand up, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks you had left over the hours of passion that you shared.

She was right about you being obligated to be at Chelsea’s party. She was not only one of your good friends but it was also the end of the year party, one of the biggest she hosts all year. Plus, you were miss perfect and popular, so everyone at school expected you to be there, and you being you wanting to maintain your image, always went.

Zoya watched you closely, recognizing when you were getting lost in your thoughts or contemplating something. So she gently placed one of her larger hands over yours, making your attention snap back to her. “You want me to take you?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head, your eyes looking away from her and into the darkness of your room. “Nate’s picking me up and we’re going together.”

Oh, she should have assumed that.

A frown quickly tugged at Zoya’s lips upon hearing your boyfriend’s name. You both had made rules between you both when your affair started, one of them being to never mention your boyfriend’s name. It was mainly because you didn’t want to think about him when you were with her, and Zoya hated to hear it as it was a cruel reminder that you weren’t hers. She hated him for that.

“Right.” Zoya mumbled, suddenly seeking sleep. She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling before forcing her eyes closed. She wanted the conversation to be over now, not wanting to be angry with you or anything. She could feel her jealousy boiling, making her seethe internally. “Should get sleep. We both have a busy day.”

“Zoya…” You whispered her name, looking up at her. But she didn’t respond, pretending to already be asleep. You sighed, feeling guilty now. So you just rested your head on her chest and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take you quickly.

◃───────────▹

Chelsea’s parties were huge and grand. She came from a family with wealth, meaning she had big money to spend when it came to the parties she hosted, but no party was as big as the end of the year parties, especially this one considering it was your guy’s last year, so it was a celebration of your year’s graduation.

Every student on campus was there, making the place packed. You stuck close to Nate, who was luckily a huge guy that was able to make room for the both of you. You guys were standing at a ping pong table with a group of your closest friends. You were cheering on Donald, Nate’s best friend, who was going up against some jock guy that you could never remember the name of.

But you weren’t actually paying attention to the match going on in front of you. You were too busy scouring the sea of party goers in search for the familiar face of the woman who has taken up the majority of your thoughts. You still hadn’t seen her, and it was making you a bit restless. You wouldn’t even be able to walk over and talk with her in fear of suspicion starting that something was going on between you both, but you just wanted to see her, even if for a split second.

“-Baby?” You let out a startled breath as Nate tilted your head up towards him, his eyebrows furrowed together when he realized you weren’t hearing him, too lost in your own thoughts of… Zoya, not that he knew that.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Your face grew hot as your attention moved to him, embarrassed at how distracted you were.

“I was asking you how you were feeling about graduation coming up.” Nate stated, searching your face for several long seconds, as if he was trying to discern what could be possibly going on in that head of yours. “Everything okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just- just thinking about mom coming tomorrow.” You quickly lied, plastering a smile on your face. You’ve learned how to fake a smile over the years.

Nate hummed your answer, believing that you were just thinking about and worrying about your mom coming tomorrow for your graduation. She was… an intense woman to say the least. She was the one always pushing you to be perfect, have great grades, and participate in more things than a person can handle. She always said it was to prepare you for the future and push you, but it only led you to stress over wanting to be a perfect daughter in her eyes.

“Don’t think about her. Focus on now, okay?” Nate whispered that more quietly to you, giving you a soft smile while squeezing your hand that he tightly held onto.

It was moments like these with him that made you feel awful, knowing that you fooled around with someone else behind his back.

Nate was an amazing guy, he really was. He excelled academically and was a prominent figure at your college that almost everyone looked up to, and was also the star football player that led the team to the championship on numerous occasions. He was also an amazing boyfriend, always picking you up from things, walking you to classes and even your dorm, no matter the time of day.

But he had a possessive nature, something you noticed as your relationship went on. He always had to be with you no matter what, going to your trainings, debates, and other events. You didn’t mind that he went with you to those things, but it was the fact it felt like he was preventing you from doing anything else that revolved around your college. He’d also push you to your limits when training for soccer, studying late into the night, and pushing you when it came to debates.

He was too much like your mother, and it hurt you every time you were reminded of that.

“And that’s another win!” Donald’s voice rang out over the cheers that followed, throwing the last plastic red cup aside and throwing his arms up in the air in celebration. Nate quickly looked to his best friend, congratulating him and patting him on the back and you smiled at him.

“Y/N!” Your attention was pulled away from the two males as Chelsea came running up to you, quickly grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Nate without even sparring him a glance. She never was a fan of him. “Come on, Serpent’s band is about to perform and I want you front and center beside me!”

“O-Okay-” You felt your face heat up at Chelsea’s words, stumbling behind her as she easily moved through the sea of people. You were gonna be front and center… in Zoya’s line of sight.

Chelsea was easily still clutching onto your hand as you made your way to the front of the small stage that was set up. The members of the band were already there, having finished setting up. Eleven was on the keyboard, focused on making sure it was right. Serpent was by the microphone, considering she was the lead singer, with her electric guitar ready, she immediately smiled brightly and waved at you and Chelsea. Bai Yi was by the drums, her bass ready as well, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw you, and you noticed her lean over the drum set.

Your heart was beating rapidly as Zoya perked up at whatever Bai Yi had said, her head immediately turning towards the gathered crowd, until they landed on you. You only gave her a small smile, one she returned, but you could tell she was holding herself back from waving at you. But she couldn’t do that, after all you both had to act like you didn’t really know each other. You couldn’t do anything that could make another person suspicious.

“Are you really just gonna give her a small smile?” Chelsea suddenly asked, leaning her mouth right by your ear and whispering so only you heard. It made you jump, immediately leaning away from her.

“Yes…” You muttered, giving Chelsea a warning look to not continue. She was one of the very select people that actually knew about you and Zoya’s affair. You had ended up telling her so you could have some cover for you for the times you’d steal moments with the woman.

Only Chelsea and Zoya’s bandmates knew, and you were going to keep it that way as long as you could.

Chelsea pouted slightly, giving you a look back that you couldn’t quite discern, before her attention was back on the stage as the music started. When the first song started, you were immediately enraptured by the music. You’ve heard Zoya’s band play before, and everytime you were blown away. At first you tried to focus on Serpent, or Eleven, or Bai Yi, trying to not look at the woman on the drums.

But eventually your eyes strayed to her. They always moved to Zoya like she was a magnet, screaming for your attention no matter where you were or what you were doing. She looked handsome sitting behind the drums, her hands moving up and down as played, finding her own rhythm in the song. Sometimes she’d twirl her drum sticks in her hands just to show off before continuing to play, and you could see a smile adorning her face as people in the crowd cheered.

Zoya never really admitted it, but she loved the attention, hearing fans singing along to their songs or cheering. She never felt more alive than on stage playing her drums with her band that had become her family. And it was only made better for her knowing you were in the crowd, in her direct line of sight. Her eyes almost never strayed away from yours when your attention was finally on her, and she was making it difficult for you to look away as her eyes just seemed to suck you in.

But every small moment like this had to be ruined.

Zoya felt her eye twitch and her lips flinched down into a frown as she watched Nate appear beside you, his arm quickly circling around your waist as he pulled you in close. Your attention was immediately off of her and onto him, a big smile spreading across your lips as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. She watched you laugh as he leaned down to whisper something into your ear, before kissing your head and turning his attention to the performance.

Gradually, Zoya began to hit the drums a lot harder as her anger and jealousy built up. She should have been the one to have an arm wrapped around you, be the one to place kisses on your head and face and have you smile up at her like you did with him. It was agony for her, a pain that grew every day, making the hole in her heart widen even more, a hole you caused because you’d never be able to fill your place in it.

As soon as the performance was done and Serpent thanked the crowd, Zoya was off the stage, her jaw clenched tight.

◃───────────▹

It had been an hour when you finally decided to leave the party, exhausted from the whole thing and having to put up a front the whole time. You convinced Nate you could walk back to your dorm on your own, considering it wasn’t too far down from the sorority houses. The walk was something you needed, the cold air feeling nice on your face. You felt relaxed, but also felt empty, an emptiness you couldn’t help but take notice of whenever you weren’t with Zoya.

Thinking of Zoya, you remembered how quickly she was off the stage after the performance ended, and it made you bite your lip. You wondered how hard you had screwed up and upset her, if you even were responsible for it (you were). You decided that once you were at your dorm, you’d make a plan to see her the next day and check in on her.

But it seemed Zoya had her own plans of seeing you earlier than that, as she was waiting for you in your dorm room when you entered.

“I thought you would have stayed a bit longer at the party.” Zoya stated, sitting at the chair at your desk, checking her nails and not even looking at you as you entered and shut the door, the sound of the lock turning echoing inside her head.

“I was planning to leave a little after your band’s performance.” You answered, biting your bottom lip as your eyes moved up and down her body, noting how she seemed a little too relaxed.

Zoya then stood up, her figure already towering over you as she walked towards you, and you tried to read her eyes to gauge how she was feeling. “You and Nate seemed to be having a lot of fun during it.”

You clenched your jaw at the name of your boyfriend, narrowing your eyes just slightly at her. “Isn’t one of our rules to not mention him?”

“Heh.” Zoya couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reminder, briefly looking to the ground before placing a hand on your chest and gently, but firmly pushing you back against the wall, her lips grazing your ear. “Says the girl who mentioned him last night.”

With those words, Zoya slammed her lips against yours, silencing anything that you were about to say. You immediately melted into it, your arms wrapping around her neck before you pulled her closer, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, something she was all too willing to allow.

Zoya pushed her tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like she always did while her hands landed on your hips, pushing you more firmly back against the wall. Then she was kicking your feet apart with her foot, before slotting one of her legs between yours. A moan immediately fell from yours lips as her knee pressed up against you.

“Zoya…” You whimpered, moaning a little more as she began to grind her knee against the area you wanted her most.

“That’s right, moan my name, baby.” Zoya growled, her lips moving down your jaw and to your neck, quickly kissing as much as she could and lightly nipping at your skin. She so badly wanted to leave a mark on you, but she knew she couldn’t, and it only annoyed her.

You did as she asked, continuing to moan her name and throw your head back, resting it back against the door as you focused on the feeling of her knee grinding up against you just right. Though it wasn’t enough, and you whimpered softly, one of your hands moved down to grab one of her’s. You brought it to the waistband of your pants, silently urging her to slip it past the barrier of clothing.

Zoya growled at the action, a sound that made you shiver and bit your lip. She sounded so primal, like a wolf about to devour its prey, and you were a willing victim to it as she slipped her hand by the waistband. You gasped as soon as her calloused fingers made contact with you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your spine.

“Fuck, your so wet.” Zoya mumbled, feeling you already slick like you had become wet the second you entered your dorm room and saw her, which was the case.

“All for you-!” You bit down on your bottom lip as she easily slipped two fingers inside you, making you feel full. “Yes, yes-!”

The sound of your moans and the slick sound emitting from your pussy as she fingered you was like music to Zoya’s ears, a song she was addicted to. Her thumb circled your clit, while her fingers continued to pump in and out, making you curse and arch your back, pushing yourself further into her. She wanted- no needed to hear more from you. She needed to hear you scream her name.

“Scream my name.” Zoya husks out, her breath hitching as she feels your walls tightening around her fingers. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“S-So good, Z-Zoya!” You tried to speak, finding it harder as you neared your climax, your gut tightening making you whine a needy sound, a sound only she could make. “C-Cumming… p-please let me cum..!”

A tear rolls down your face as the pleasure builds up to a point it’s almost painful, and it makes Zoya’s smirk widen a bit more as she goes back to kissing your neck. She hums against your skin, her tempo increasing, leaving you more numb with pleasure. But she doesn’t say anything, simply focusing on pleasuring you.

Eventually you can’t hold back anymore, and cum around her fingers with a scream of her name, “Zoya!”

Your body arches into her’s, your head falling forward and onto her shoulder as the waves of pleasure leave your body weak and shaking. Zoya immediately supports you as you collapse against her body, her arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. She pulls her hand from your pants and brings them up to her mouth, quickly sucking your cum off them. The sight makes your pussy pulse, but you're too exhausted to act on it.

Zoya easily picks you up in her arms, carrying you over to your bed and gently laying you down. She moves to unwrap herself from you and pull away, only for you to grab her shirt to stop her, whispering, “Please stay, Zoya…”

Your words make her freeze, leading her to debate whether to stay or leave like she planned. But she looks down at your face, seeing you had already begun to fall asleep, your eyes closed. Then she can’t bring herself to leave your side, so with a heavy sigh, she climbs into your bed with you, quickly wrapping her arms around your body and pulling you against her.

Zoya gazes down at your now sleeping face, raising a hand up and gently brushing some hair away before caressing your face. You looked so beautiful and at peace, for once looking relaxing and content while being in her arms. You didn’t have to pretend around her, you were vulnerable and it made her feel special knowing you felt comfortable enough to not put up that front of yours that you had around everyone else.

She wished you could be like that not just behind closed doors with her. She wished she wouldn’t ruin your perfect image by holding your hand in public and kissing your cheek. If she had it her way she would do all of that with you, and maybe it was selfish considering she didn’t care about image. But you did, and she had to respect that openly being with her would ruin it.

For her, keeping your affair a secret was easy for her, but after so long, genuine feelings began to form and she found herself thinking about you every second of the day. She thought of your eyes, your smile, the sound of your laugh and the way you would chew on your bottom lip when you were focused. She noticed every little thing you did, and it was that knowledge that made her realize that you were more than just a person she slept around with.

She needed to tell you how she really felt, because the weight of knowing she had to keep this thing a secret was beginning to weigh heavily on her. She had to say something, because she yearned for the day when she didn’t have to conceal her feelings or hide her presence, or act like she didn’t know you when in reality she knew you better than anyone else.

Was it really too much to ask for?

◃───────────▹

Everytime Zoya tried to confess her feelings to you, something would happen or come up, leaving you to either leave or leave her too afraid to actually say anything. She never felt so weak or scared before until she was faced with a situation where she could finally tell you that she loved you. It went on for two more months, and your affair was still going and was still secret. Now graduation was upon you guys, happening the next day when Zoya received news that utterly tore her apart and left her feeling so cold and heartbroken.

“You didn’t know? Nate and Y/N are getting married.”

The words echoed in her head like a plague, leaving her wanting to claw at her skin and sink into herself and just break down. She found herself at a bar and hung out there late into the night, drinking down beer after beer all to try and numb the pain she was feeling. By 3 in the morning she wasn’t in a coherent state, her mind fogged with alcohol as she stumbled through campus. All that was on her mind was you, and it was why she found herself knocking loudly on your dorm room so late.

You opened the door, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, before they widened when you saw her standing on the other wide, reeking of alcohol, and weakly holding onto the door frame to keep herself up right. “Zoya-”

“When were you gonna tell me?” Her voice cut through you like a knife, leaving you frozen as she stared you down with anger and hurt swirling inside her eyes. You’d never seen her so… broken, and that’s how you knew that this was about.

“I’m sorry…” Was all you could say back in response as tears welled up in your eyes, your hands beginning to shake along with your whole body.

“Engaged?” Zoya stated, looking at you with pure hurt as she leaned slightly towards you. “You didn’t tell me…”

You remembered when Nate had proposed to you a couple days ago. It was when you were at dinner with both of your families, celebrating the final debate you participated in. Suddenly Nate had dropped down onto one knee in front of you, holding out a ring and asking the words, “Will you marry me?”

How were you supposed to say no when you felt everyone’s eyes on you, when you felt your mother’s eyes on you. The weight of maintaining the image of the perfect daughter, the expectations, and the pressure of the entire situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, leading you to saying yes.

You didn’t keep it a secret that you were engaged to him now. You were planning to tell Zoya, you really were, but you had been so busy that week that you weren’t able to find time to meet with her. But you didn’t want her to find out this way, because it now leads Zoya to your dorm room, alcohol heavy on her and intoxication clear in her glassy eyes.

“I did everything you wanted!” Zoya suddenly yelled, her voice cracking in anger and pain. “I followed your stupid rules, your demands. I stayed away from you when you asked me to just to keep our-” She stopped, letting out a laugh and looking away with a shake of her head, stopping herself from uttering the word “relationship.”

As far as Zoya knew, you weren’t even a couple, just two people who fucked.

You had your head hung low, staring at the ground while Zoya entered your dorm, beginning to pace back and forth while you quietly shut the door. She was muttering some things to herself, tugging at her hair before suddenly punching the wall. The hit made you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, tears falling freely down your face.

Zoya’s anger was justified, which is why you didn’t stop her as her fist collided with the wall until there was a hole. You wanted to stop her, in fear of her hurting herself, but you just couldn’t. All you could do was stand there in your guilt.

“Y-You know. I played along… to have you.” Zoya whimpered out, leaning her head against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes as her anger was quenched for now. Her hand ached, shaking in pain at her side, her knuckles split open and bleeding, but she paid no attention to it.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, her confession cutting into your heart like a knife, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, tears falling rapidly down your face. The guilt was prominent inside your body, eating away at you.

“I just wanted you to be mine.” Zoya whispered, tears falling from her eyes as she turned towards you slowly. “I love you.”

There it is, those three words that held so much pointless weight in the end. It left you gasping for air between your sobs, your head snapping up to Zoya and staring at her with wide eyes. You always hoped to hear her say them, but you knew you shouldn’t have, knowing it wouldn’t make you change the secrecy of your affair. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, just like how it won’t change anything now.

Zoya then approached you, and with every step she took, you took a step to retreat, until your back hit the wall and she was quick to cage you in between her arms. “But you were never mine to begin with.” She gives you a sad smile, finally coming to terms with that fact. The engagement ring on your finger was proof of it, after all. “Now I have to live with that fact…”

You looked away from her, wrapping your arms around yourself in a protective manner, while trying to make yourself look small. Zoya raised a hand up, gently dragging your chin and tilting your head up until you had no choice but to look at her. She was crying, just like you, and the knowledge of knowing that you were the reason behind her tears made you whimper.

When your attention was on her, she grabbed your one hand and slipped your engagement ring off of your finger, examining it. “Engaged…” She whispered softly, finally letting that fact register in her head.

Then Zoya dropped the ring, letting it fall to the ground, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours. Her lips were soft, feeling familiar and bringing a warmth to your chest that you knew you didn’t deserve. You kissed one another like you were the only reason for each other breathing. You kissed her like this was the end… because it was.

One final night with one another couldn’t hurt, right? Just a night to say goodbye.

Finding yourself back on your bed, naked with Zoya on top of you left you feeling numb with pain. Your mind was only filled with her. The feeling of her body against yours, her lips on your neck, while her hips moved against yours. It was the same like all those other nights you both spent together, except it was different because this was the end.

When you both reached your peak, with Zoya releasing inside you, you felt complete for the first time in your life, but that feeling wasn’t going to last after this. Zoya had her head resting on your chest, listening to the sound of your gradually calming heartbeat, her arms circled around your waist. Your hands moved through her hair as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm, tears rolling down your face.

You eventually fell asleep, and once you were, Zoya forced herself out of your bed. She grabbed her clothes and slowly got dressed, running a hand through her hair before looking back at your sleeping form. Her feet moved on her own as she crouched down beside your bed, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind your ear, before leaning forward and placing one final kiss onto your lips, murmuring a few final words before getting up and leaving, never looking back.

“Good luck, babe.”

ENDING NOTES: So, one question. Part 2?

[totothewolff]

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.

< Masterlist | Next chapter >

1 - Dark but just a game

As the sun rises over the Mediterranean Sea, you find yourself running across the streets of Monaco at full speed, like a mad girl, your ponytail swaying behind you like a pendulum, sprinting as fast as you are able all the way from the bus stop to the iconic doorway stairs to Monaco's most prestigious, exclusive, and expensive Yacht Club. 

To your fucking luck, you are running late because you didn't hear the many alarms set on your phone. 

Not because you are acting lazy; these past weeks have been brutal, and your body is exhausted from work, college, and tests.

As you quickly climb the marble steps, you pray you don't slip and break your nose against them. Cleaning it will be a nightmare, and you already have many chores to do that day.

The staff access is all the way down the next street, but you only have about 2 minutes left to check in on time. Either you use this shortcut or get another notice, so you risk it!

For obvious reasons, the staff isn't supposed to use the member's and guests' main entrance; the one that leads to the glamorous and iconic lobby with the front desk and stunning bar that is featured in many Architectural Digest issues due to his architectural heritage and art deco layout, but fuck it.

You would rather get a reprimand from your boss, the Members Services & Events Department director, than a salary fine. You are already biting your nails to meet this month's end.

As soon as you reach the large double gold-framed doors, you feel the fresh air of the AC hitting your pores with a sweet scent of jasmine. 

You want to make the most discreet and casual way in, trying to blend and go unnoticed between the people there and their soft hums of conversations, but Lord! Fate hates you.

As soon as you push the doors open, you feel your keys flying out of your blue short's tiny pocket. 

You don't know who to blame the most: the designers who insist on putting those stupid, almost fake pockets on women's clothes, the massive ball of keys your manager insists you carry around at work due to the old-timey tradition of the place, or you for running relentlessly.

The sound the keys make when they hit the pristine and immaculate stone floor makes you want to die; it sounds like a torpedo hitting the ground.

All the people inside there, the ones chatting on the trendy and expensive lounge pearl white sofas, the ones getting down the swirl stairs from the terrace under that beautiful chandelier and massive skylight, the people enjoying their morning by the gold leaf bar drinking their welcoming Italian soda and the expertly crafted canapés along with the hot man standing at the front desk next to your boss turn their heads following the sound, all looking straight at you now as you stand still there in the middle of the room.

The hot man has short brown hair, dark eyes, and a well-built, athletic body that could easily be spotted from a mile away. He exudes power and sexiness, and you can't help but take him in. 

"Good morning" is all you come up to say, trying to keep your composure. Fuckity fuck!

The tall man bends his body and reaches down to pick up your rusted keys, which slid near his feet.

"Good morning, kid," he greets you as he enjoys the view of an embarrassed, sweaty, and out-of-breath you, with your hair loosened up from running under the sea breeze and wind in those tiny ass blue shorts and white polo that the Club makes you wear as a uniform, with a very amused smile on his face.

Toto's voice is smooth and captivating, sending shivers down your spine as you listen to him. Your heart races and your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and nervousness. 

You can't believe the man in front of you is talking to you so charmingly. Most members and guests are out of touch or rude towards staff.

"Thank you, s-sir," you quickly reply, grabbing the keys with a slight tremble in your voice. 

Toto's eyes twinkle with amusement as he observes your reaction. It's clear to him that his presence takes you aback, and he finds it endearing.

"Who the fuck is this specimen of a man, Jesus Christ!" You think, your brain breaking down a bit.

"Right this way, Mr. Wolff," Chloé, your boss, stands right by him.

She is almost his height and a vision of elegance and authority. Her perfectly styled curly hair and soft, evony skin glimmer as she addresses Toto in the most polite voice, stealing his attention from you.

Before looking at you with an "I'm going to murder you," look in her sharp hazel eyes as a silent warning of the impending reprimand you are getting.

You immediately recognize the last name: Wolff. He most likely is Toto Wolff, the successful businessman who owns one of the villas at the Club and has a beautiful yacht by the dock. 

You have heard his name many times before. You know he is one of the most important clients and may be spending his spring break here. 

You had no idea he was coming; no one in the crew or staff notified you about it, which is the usual when a big name is to arrive. 

But most importantly, you had no idea he looked like that; you always pictured him as an old fart. 

Damn, he is hot!

-

As you fix your wild hair in the locker room, you notice Chloé enter, and you rush to finish tightening your ponytail. 

You observe her reflection coming your way in the tiny mirror on the metallic door of your blue locker. 

"Here we go." 

You can feel Chloé's disapproval while waiting for her words, and your mind races with fears and uncertainties.

"Girl, how often do I have to remind you about the importance of punctuality in this establishment?!" Chloé's voice is like ice seeping into your core, chilling you to the bone. 

You feel a mix of panic and frustration, knowing that you have once again fallen short of Chloé's expectations; she is your most supportive person in the entire place.

You bite your lip nervously, trying to devise a plausible explanation for your delay. For the first time, you are glad the staff area of the Club is not as luxurious as the rest of the sparkling oasis venue. 

It's a bit dark in there because there are only small windows below ground level, so it is impossible to notice how pale you are right now.

"Of all days, you had to choose today! Please stop being so reckless. There will be a time when I won't be able to stand up for you and help you out! You know I love you, girl, but Raphaël is going to give us so much shit if any of the guests or Abby mention the incident to him."  

You feel a wave of self-doubt washing you over. This familiar sensation crept up whenever you faced Chloe's harsh criticisms; she's the best but a challenging and demanding boss.

She is at the top of the game, and Chloé works hard to maintain the Club's reputation and the best guest service in town. 

"I-I'm sorry, Chloé," your voice stutters as you try to form an apology, your words coming out in a quiet, shaky breath.

You are still in a whirlwind of emotions. You did your best to keep a professional demeanor in front of Toto's presence and the rest of the guests. 

But the entire incident was overwhelming, plus his aura looked like he commanded respect from people.

"At least, Mr. Wolff, laugh it off." Chloé gives you a soft and reassuring rub on the arm. "I had never seen you reach that level of redness, not even when you slipped on the deck of Ms. Basset's yacht with her birthday cake while we sang her happy birthday," Chloé starts laughing at the memory.

"Here is his clown to entertain him," you get slightly embarrassed now and joke back, but you wish.

"Talking of which," Chloé switches tones back to a boss again.

"What?" you feel your heart going wild again.

You struggle to contain your emotions as she delivers you the news with a funny expression. 

You can't believe you have been assigned to Mr. Wolff's crew, YOU, to overlook and take care of his stay.

The mere thought of being in close proximity to him sends a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach as excitement at the prospect of working closely with Toto until you remember who you are. Then, apprehension fills you with the challenges that lay ahead.

"WHAT?!" you let out aloud.

"Yeah, I know, we know, we all wonder if Mr. Holst is pulling some survival experiment or wants to watch you do you and surprise us with one of your biggest hits, like the one you did today. Seriously, how do these things keep happening to you?! Child, I wonder." Chloé lets out with amusement.

"OH LORD,"

-

The Yacht Club's poolside bar glistens in the sun's warm embrace. A golden hue covers the luxurious setting and trendy chairs cradle members who lounge in pricey fashion wear and fancy swimsuits. 

Laughs and chats overlap the sound of the waves against the shore. The entire pool area has the most beautiful view of Monaco's sea. 

Spring is warm enough, and the freshwater of the ocean twinkles and sparks reflections, looking perfect for diving in or jet skiing.

The long pier there is closed right now as the Waterfront crew sets up all the equipment and performs safety checks before starting their water-based activities schedule for guests.

So, most members enjoy the state-of-the-art giant pool: swimming, sunbathing, drinking cocktails, or reading from their Kindles at the moment, making the bar busier.

Today, you are helping the mixologist and bartenders at the pool and terrace bar by restocking ingredients and tracking orders on the KDS. 

Jesus, these people have crazy and quirky demands for their beverages and food! 

Your feet start hurting from running from one location to another, to the kitchen and warehouse, and up and down the staff's outdoor stairs.

But all pain is gone as you watch Toto approach the bar, wearing an unbuttoned white linen t-shirt and yellow swimming short trunks. His chest and legs look damn good under the sun.

Toto's eyes linger on you as a flashback of a phone call he had with Mr. Holst, the Club Manager and owner, his long-time friend, comes to his mind.

"Miss Y/LN?" Toto says as he reads the list of staff names sent to his email for him to review before arriving at the Club.

"Oh, yes, that one you don't recognize, yeah, that's Y/N," Mr. Holst lets out a long sigh on the other end of the phone. 

He doesn't sound excited at the mention of your name. 

"She's the young college student who works for us, tirelessly, I must admit, to support her education. That's the only reason why I keep giving her chances."

"Put her on board my crew, then," Toto says while signing a cheque at his office, briefly holding his iPhone with his ear.

"Toto, I must warn you, she is inexperienced and really clumsy. I advise choosing someone else." the boss says.

"Add her, please," Toto commands what he pleases. He knows he can tip you well to help you with the bills.

"Okay, you are going to make me say I told you so," Mr. Holst jokes. "I love you here, my friend, but why the sudden rush to arrive? Shouldn't you be on cloud nine in Milano? You are giving us no time."

A small, sarcastic sigh escapes Toto's lips. "See you soon, my friend," his deep voice ends the call; there is no further explanation.

Your pulse quickens as you stand before Toto. You can smell his delicious cologne, mixed with the scent of saltwater and hints of citrus from the cocktails having served.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," he greets you; his words carry a subtle warmth. "I want a Daiquiri; take it to the in-pool chaise area. I will be there," he orders. "Oh, and I hope you don't throw some keys in it," he winks at you. 

"You dislike rusty flavors, noticed, sir," you joke back, seizing the moment; a small smile forms on his lips, and you feel like you won a prize.

-

Oh, the view that greets you minutes later as you go to deliver him his drink is just too much for your poor heart.

Toto is sprawled on one of the pool's chaises, sunlight dancing on his skin. His fit body is covered in a sheen of sweat from the heat, his muscular physique in full glory for your eyes to enjoy, looking impossibly hot. 

Under his sunglasses, he notices how your gaze goes all over him, his body getting you all distracted before he grabs his drink. "It's a good thing you didn't throw it all over me," he says, confusing you. "Watch your step." 

He points with his head to your feet. You are standing at the very edge of the pool. One millimeter more, and you could have taken a good swim with him, embarrassing yourself as usual.

"Oh God," in that moment, you want to drown in the pool. "Sorry, I'm not, I..."

"Don't mind, you can leave," he says, and that's all. 

There's no more Toto for you that day.

Is he always this cold?

-

You arrive home exhausted after today's work. The bar's closing always takes time, and it's late at night when you enter your aunt's apartment, where you two live. 

She has already left for work. 

She is a nurse and usually works the night shift, so you two see each other only occasionally, even if you share the same roof, just on weekends.

During the bus ride home, you made peace with the fact that you were going to bed with an empty stomach.

She left you a sticky yellow note on the fridge, letting you know she left food for you. God bless her heart! You felt too tired to cook. 

As you microwave your dinner, Léo texts you. 

Apparently, a kid threw up at the restaurant, and his father caused a big scene by calling the Chef and making him bring out the employee who cooked his son's meal to address him.

"You tried to poison my son! He screamed at me with a thick Australian accent. Can you believe the nerve?!"

Léo is 30 years old and works as a cook in the Yacht Club kitchen under a highly demanding Chef. He is as low-salary as you and middle class, too. 

Because of that and many more things you share in common, you two were able to bond and become great friends. 

Your aunt has always tried to play cupid with you two. She likes him and, well, you too, sort of. 

He is a good person and good-looking, and according to everyone, he is also into you.

You would let him win your heart if he wasn't determined to move countries and leave as soon as he finishes studying his cuisine master's.

There is nothing that frightens you more in this world than the fear of someone leaving you because your parents did that to you. 

Well, your dad was never present anyway. 

And your mom was an irresponsible and immature mess with you. She even called you an "oopsie baby" to your face once while being exasperated with you, but it was the truth anyway. 

She always blamed you for your father leaving and for stealing her youth, all that before she got sober and cleaned her act. 

Now, she is the world's greatest mom to her kids, your stepbrothers. You don't see her much, and she still doesn't care much about you. Still, she calls you on your birthday and sends you money every once in a while.

God, you hate people who abandon and hurt.

So that's why you fear a relationship with Léo. 

Paris is a goddamn expensive and challenging city to live and navigate, more so with a low income, so following him along is not within your reach.

But you really yearn for affection, a body to hold, for someone to touch you and make you feel special.

A boyfriend would be great.

-

As you lay in your bed, in the darkness, inside your small room, frustrated about not being able to fall asleep, you can't win the dirty thoughts running wild in your head as the night's warmth enters through the open window.

The light fabric curtains sway in the wind as the warm breeze caresses your thighs, and you succumb to the temptation you have been trying to resist for more than 20 minutes. 

You spread your legs wider, feeling the soft cotton of your pajama bottoms rub against your sensitive spot. You start to slide a hand between your legs, with a finger teasing the skin under your panties, getting aroused. 

You close your eyes and begin caressing your folds and picturing Toto's broad, sweaty, naked body approaching you at the bed.

You could almost hear his deep voice whispering, "You're so beautiful." His aftershave fills your nostrils as he leans in for a kiss. 

His big hands gently part your legs, revealing your bare, moist pussy to him before placing himself on top of you in one of the villa's bedrooms.

You fantasize about being buried under his weight, lost in the sensation of Toto's fingers teasing and exploring your insides. 

His soft, dirty whispers in your ear make you shiver, and you find yourself arching into his touch.

Back in real life, the sound of your shallow breaths fills the room as you dare to push an entire finger inside you all the way in while a soft moan escapes your lips as the scene in your head continues:

"Do you like that? Do you like me inside?" Toto asks, his voice low and husky. 

"Yes, sir," you breathe, your hips bucking against his hand, willing and trembling. 

As your finger moves faster, causing soaked sounds, your mind pictures Toto's intense gaze fixed on you; the thought of submitting to him, of being his completely, makes you quiver.

You feel the heat and wetness of your core and slide a second finger into you, eager for more. 

The soft fabric of your bedsheets rubs your skin with the movement you produce on the mattress as you go all for it, reminding you of Toto's rough yet gentle grip. 

"Tell me what you want," he says, working his hand faster between your legs, making you splash some drops of your wetness.

"I want you inside me," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper hidden below a moan. 

You are all pink in the cheeks and sweaty, and a need to pee sensation starts building in you. 

"And what do you think I should do about that?" he asks with a wicked grin.

"Please fuck me, sir; I need you inside me," you beg.

You close your eyes, lost in the dream, feeling as if he was entering you balls deep as you thrust your fingers as deep inside you as you can take them. 

Your moans hitch as you start pulling them in and out of you as you picture Toto's hip movements till you reach climax, your body shuddering with pleasure, whetting your sheets all over.

The warmth spreads through your core and leaves you content and relaxed. You bite your lip, and you are now feeling embarrassed to face Toto tomorrow morning after this.  

You clean yourself up and change your sheets, then fall asleep like a baby. Your best night of sleep in a long time.

-

OH, YEAH, SPRING BREAK IS OFFICIALLY HERE!

Which means no more classes, no more university, and no more annoying classmates. However, still lots of work to do at the Club.

-

You are all happy and peacefully cooking your breakfast with a lot of the extra time you have now on your hands.

Yesterday, Chloé authorized you to switch to the morning shift since college is on break. 

She left you many tasks for the day in the digital agenda the Club gave you, which you are now reading as you enjoy your avocado toast.

You have to look extra lovely and put together this week because you will spend three entire days alongside Toto in the middle of the ocean since he got invited to Mr. Holst's extremely exclusive getaway at his gigantic and modern yacht that could easily fit a nation in there, along with other five old farts.

-

Two days later, you are getting ready to join the crew on board to help with everything Mr. Wolff needs and what the harbor crew, the dock master, the Chef, and the sailing master ask you to do.

It also means you must wear the sailing slut-ish uniforms, keep them pristine, look on point all the time, and avoid embarrassing yourself.

After brushing your teeth and doing your hair and makeup, you check yourself in your bedroom's oversized, full-length mirror, fixing every detail on your sailing uniform.

This one attracts much attention from people on the streets as you travel on the bus to work. Guys always send you dirty looks or discreetly stare you down. 

Everyone finds it sexy, but not the Yacht's Controller, who always makes fun of it; he and his entire team nickname it "The Slut Navy Uniform."

It's a tight white long-sleeve button shirt with golden handcuffs and a v-neck cleavage, along with a French blue loosen kipper short tie and six golden buttons in the waist area to make it look smaller, with the Club's patched logo on the upper left side, and pair with a too short white knife pleated skirt that you always have to work around to avoid flashing the guests.

And to whose surprise, honestly?! Mr. Holst is quite sexist and still thinks his female staff must look pleasing to men's eyes.

You have a conflicted sentiment for him; sometimes, he is the nicest boss on earth, but he spans from that to a neurotic asshole.

He has a sweet, healthy, young-looking face for his age. Being a billionaire, having a plastic surgeon on call, and being chubby sure helps him with that, but he was definitely once good-looking.

His wife is way too hot for him, tho, and his three sons and heirs are also stunning but extremely posh, a bit deadpan, and out of touch. 

They aren't that reachable, but you have a good relationship with them all. 

You got hired to work there because your aunt was the nurse who helped him take care of his elderly mom for the last decade of her life.

-

The sun rises over the crystal-clear waters, reflecting on the luxurious yachts docked in the harbor as you walk along the pier, admiring the beautiful vessels.

"Here it comes, the Slut Navy!" the dockmaster yells at you from afar, greeting you and the other girls while joking around as there are no guests near.

He is a pretty quirky character, and you do a little dance in response, extending your arms and rocking your hips while reaching the edge of the pier, where he offers you a hand to board the yacht, along with the four other female coworkers.

You step onto the dock, feeling the cool wood beneath your feet, and take a deep breath to steady your nerves.

"Please don't break my ship," he jokes with you, double-checking on his list that you are part of today's crew. You are his favorite. That's why he is always teasing you.

"Girls, we have lots to prepare before guests arrive. I need you to split into teams. Let's go, people!" he stops fooling around and goes full business mode as he checks his Rolex Daytona.

-

On time as ever, the guests board the ship while you pour the cold iced tea into the glasses and help the Chef label which plate belongs to whom since one of the guests is allergic to cheese.

"SHIT!" you let out loud in the staff's kitchen, watching the clock on the wall. You were supposed to welcome Toto on the deck about 10 minutes ago. "Gotta go, guys." 

You rush to place the last sticky notes with names frantically before exiting and climbing the metallic stairs to ground level fast to look for him.

You find Toto standing at the railing, his eyes scanning the water. You can't help but admire his tall, muscular frame and the way the sunlight glints off his hair.

There he is, the man you've been secretly fantasizing about, just a few feet away. With a sudden burst of courage, you clear your throat. 

Toto turns towards you, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. You feel your cheeks heating up as you get closer. 

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are, kid. I thought you had fallen overboard already since there was no one to welcome me," he replies, his voice deep and resonant.

"That's why you were looking at the water, right?" You try to beat with humor the slight reprimand you got. "What can I offer you, sir?" you quickly ask. 

The yacht rocks gently under your feet, waves lapping against the hull as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends shivers down your spine. "There, better," he says. 

Your hair got a bit messed up from working like crazy. Seconds later, Mr. Holst reaches you two, which explains Toto's move.

Mr. Holst checks you out, expecting you to look perfect, as Ava, his stunning assistant and assigned crew lass, moves to stand beside you.

She is everything you want to achieve at work and excels at her job. Although Ava acts cold and diva to you and the other girls, feeling above you all.

"Hi," you greet the breathtaking young, fit woman, low and quickly, discreetly waving your hand at her. 

She looks at you with the corner of her eyes. Her piercing blue eyes stay on you for a few seconds. Ava remains quiet and then moves her gaze back to the boss.

You wonder if the rumors of Mr. Holst and her are true; wait, that's misogynistic of you. 

Well, you will keep trying to make friends with her. She has no friends here, and you don't like that. You can't cope with abandonment.

"Good morning, my friend. It's good to see you," Mr. Holst greets Toto warmly and squeezes his arm fondly. "We have some catching up to do," he notices Toto isn't holding a glass in his hand yet and addresses you. "Go bring him his beverage."

You were standing there like an idiot, staring at Toto shyly. "Oh, yes, sir, immediately."

"That wasn't necessary," Toto bumps Holst.

"I know, but she didn't get hired to act like a lampost," They both laugh.

"Is Y/N always that nervous and shy? Not the best traits working in hospitality, I must say." Toto asks.

"Really?! No, gosh, I wish she was. I would like her to contain herself more." Holst chuckles as some of your incidents come to his mind. "You want me to have a word with her?"

"No, no," Toto says. 

Then, he is the one making you act like that?

-

The yacht's interior is even more luxurious than the outside, with plush carpets, gleaming marble surfaces, and intricate woodwork adorning every inch of space. 

You wander through the spacious halls, attending to Toto's requests and admiring the paintings and sculptures lining the walls. 

At the same time, you navigate the ship as you bring him the rye bread he requested to the long outdoor table on the bridge deck, where the brunch takes place. You face the mesmerizing view of Monaco's coastline as you step outside.

You place the plate in front of him and step back to your position behind him, at arm's reach, in case he needs something else.

You can't help but overhear the conversation and pay attention to his words.

"So, how is Irina? And your mom?" Mr. Holst addresses him, sitting at the head of the table and turning in Toto's way.

"Fine" is all Toto answers, deminors changing.

"Oh, okay, please, you don't say more," Mr. Holst jokes at Toto's lack of words; the Austrian chuckles.

The Chef then asks you by the open-ear bud headphones to bring out the sliced fruit dishes.

As all the staff heads back to the kitchen, Toto's eyes are drawn towards the action while the rest of the table doesn't bother paying attention.

When you are about to cross the massive slide door, a strong breeze comes your way. Toto gets to enjoy the view of your legs and ass on display as the wind pulls you a trick and raises your short skirt for a brief second before you rush to move your arm and hand to fix it.

He finds you so fascinating. The two of you couldn't be more opposite. 

"Those are some cute lacey panties," he thinks.

-

As the day goes by without significant incidents, you start to feel more and more confident around Toto. 

You stare at him for a while, driving the jet ski fast and wild on the waters, breaking waves and revolving, with a firm grip on the steering control and his delicious biceps flexing. 

You are glad he has the life jacket on; otherwise, you be drooling. Then, the sailing master distracts you from him as he asks the guests to return on board. 

The yacht will cruise to deeper waters so Mr. Holst can free dive.

You wait for Toto's arrival, holding the soft, high-quality towel while enjoying the view of a wet him up close as he climbs, dripping, on the swim platform. 

He playfully sprinkles you with some drops with his hand as you come close to remove his life jacket.

"Hey!" you complain, smiling at him being an ass.

"Just a small taste of the fresh waters. I saw you looking over a lot, and I supposed you wanted to join me in the fun," he explains as he dries his hair with the towel, messing it up. "How do I look?" he jokes around. His wet hair is all up and wild, going in every direction.

You laugh and smile at the sight, "Like lighting is about to strike us." 

He then combs his hair with his hand in a handsome man's move and drops the now-wet and heavy towel on your extended forearms. "I will be on the sun deck," he informs you and moves along.

-

Everything is going so well.

Toto sunbathes for a while and only asks you for one drink the entire time before he leaves to nap in his cabin. 

So you move on to your other tasks as he isn't around but still keeping an eye on his call bell.

-

All until later, when you hear commotion on the main deck. 

As you enter the living room area, you see Mr. Elrod, looking all red and swollen, sitting on one of the curved sofas as the aid crew offers him an EpiPen.

"Oh, no, no!" escapes your lips, watching the scene from afar as you feel the Chef and Mr. Holst's eyes set on you standing next to each other.

You sense Toto passing you around and standing by your side, observing the scene two steps behind you. The commotion woke him up.

Mr. Holst points you with his finger to the left, which means, "See you at my office now!"

Toto watches you release a loud sigh before moving your feet.

-

He waits for you outside the double wood doors of the office, sitting in the empty chair beside them, hearing the muffled screams from inside. 

After a while, it quietens, and you finally emerge from inside, distressed and fast, trying to hold back tears. 

You don't notice Toto.

You start heading to an empty place where you can cry in peace while avoiding being seen by guests. 

Toto follows you all the way to the flying bridge, keeping a reasonable distance from you and trying to be discreet.

It's dark already, and the air feels chilly up there as the night fully sets. 

He hears you weeping near the railing as you feel a jacket being placed on you. 

"It's cold," Toto's deep voice says, making you jump. 

You immediately wipe your tears, fix yourself, and turn to face him. 

"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't notice you were here. I apologize." 

God! Why did he have to be there and see you like this? You wanted to avoid getting into more trouble!

He notices your overly apologizing trait and feels slightly sorry for you. "I followed you here."

Your stupid mind takes another angle. "I'm so sorry if I didn't hear you calling me; how can I help you?"

He stares at you. "I meant it as I saw the entire thing with Mr. Elrod and then with Holst and followed you here from his office. He loses patience quickly but is a good-hearted man." 

You nod, now getting it. 

"Did you poison the allergic guy?" he asks, a small smile forming on his lips at the situation's absurdity as he listens to himself.

"Yes. I messed up the plate's labels all for being in a rush." You aren't in the mood to light things up with humor as you hold back tears again. "It won't happen again." Toto notices it; you gulp and look directly at him. "You don't have to worry about it, sir. I will pay extra care with your food and beverages."

"You think I'm here because I'm worried you'll get me poisoned?" his voice is serious. 

You glance at him, confused and surprised. 

What's going on?!

"Just talk to me. What's the reason for the tears?" Toto wipes the tear running down your cheek. "Without the sir bit, please, just Toto."

"Understood, si-r-Toto," you quickly answer. "Well, I-yeah, I feel like I'm not good at anything! I always screw things up. It doesn't matter how hard I try! It keeps happening to me, and they had enough of it."

"Did Holst threaten to fire you? I can always talk to him," he offers you, concerned.

"No, I'm getting a fine, a big one. I can barely afford it, but I can't lose this job either."

"And you told Holst that? That you needed the money? I don't know, maybe he could give you additional chores, or you could stay free for extra hours?"

"Yes, I tried, but he knows that's the one punishment that would make me not dare to commit the same mistake again. It's a bit cruel, but I'm used to it, I guess," you explain to him before you literally have a breakdown in front of him, much to Toto's surprise.

He holds you in his arms, trying to calm you down while a more violent and cold current hits both of your bodies. 

You feel his thumb rubbing your back as you bury yourself in his warmness. His tender touch relaxes you so much that you start falling asleep, feeling exhausted. 

He then notices you struggling to keep your eyes open and to remain on your feet as you lean more into him. 

He lifts you from the ground with a firm grip and carries you around as you fall asleep on him. 

He takes you downstairs through the empty hallways to his cabin, not knowing where yours is or how to get there, and softly places you in his bed.

He pulls your skirt in place, respecting you, even if he likes the idea of spooning you and feeling the lace of your cheeky panties with his fingers as his eyes go down your sound-asleep figure.

Toto hasn't fucked anyone in over five weeks, and the urge to do so starts building inside him. 

But it's not proper to get involved with you.

-

The following day, he wakes up as the sun sneaks through the massive glass window of his bedroom, heating Toto's face; he then stretches and yawns before turning your way.

But you are already gone. 

It's about 8 a.m., meaning breakfast is about to occur. Toto gets on his feet, feeling hungry already due to his CEO routine, usually waking up between 4:45 and 5:00 a.m. and eating breakfast early. But he has to remind himself he is on a break.

-

He spots you as soon as he arrives at the bridge deck.

You are wearing a uniform similar to yesterday's. A white button t-shirt with a v-neck, this time no tie, but today's blue A-line plated panel mini skirt with four golden buttons seemed in it looks so tight on your ass, which is anything but good for Toto's horniness as he feels the urge to pin you against the hallway wall and rub your asscheeks against his groin.

He notices the nervous energy among the staff members, hurrying to attend to his and the other guests' every need as they start to breakfast.

Your eyes dart at him in awe and fear after last night's events as you give out the glass bottles of sparkling water to everyone at the table.

Toto chuckles to himself, aware of the power he wields on you simply by his presence. 

He looks at you with a cheeky grin and, on purpose, drops his fork.

The sound it makes when hitting the floor causes Mr. Holst to turn Toto's way and joke out loud. "It's alive! The fruit is alive!" he messes around.

"Y/N," Toto calls your name, a smirk already on his lips. "Would you mind picking it up for me?" he requests you in the sweetest tone in front of everyone.

"You little shit," you think, but you say, "Sure, sir," and struggle to get down to the floor in that fucking tight as hell mini skirt, trying to bend without your pussy greeting everyone. 

He enjoys watching you try and struggle all the way down and is pretty surprised when you achieve it without revealing yourself.

"Let me get you a new one, SIR," you emphasize the last word while looking at him with murderous eyes as he laughs under his breath.

Once you are back and have handed him his new fork so he can resume enjoying his fruit, Toto grabs a strawberry with it and gets it in his mouth. 

As soon as the fork makes contact with his lips, Toto feels them burning violently.

He turns your way, eyes wide open, and since you are just two steps behind him, you come closer to mutter near his ear, "Oopsie, I must have dropped it in the wasabi sauce."

-

After a long chat with the other guests about business, Toto excuses himself to get a shower. 

He dismisses you and gifts you some free time before they dock in Eze Village. 

He asks you to go get him in his room when they arrive.

-

Toto steps into the steaming water, letting it cascade over his muscular body. He closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the sudden life crisis that brought him here. 

As he soaps up his body, he can't help but reach between his legs and begin to stroke his growing erection. 

He could be fucking anyone instead of jerking himself off in the shower. After all, he is a handsome billionaire who can afford life's finest things but is stranded here with few options.

A slight smirk forms at the corner of his mouth as he thinks you would probably be more than happy to join and help him with this as he runs his hands over his well-defined abs and chest. 

He pulls all of his strength not to call you in.

Instead, he focuses on pulling himself harder, faster, and more intensely as he gets lost in the moment. 

"Ahh" he moans, arching his back as he feels the familiar tightening in his groin. His cock is as hard and curved as possible and bounces slightly with each move.

After minutes of going at it, he hears the soft and muffled knocks on the door. 

It must be you, as he instructed you, obedient girl! He would reward you for good behavior if you were in there with him.

He rushes to pleasure himself, or otherwise, if he stops and steps out, after opening that door, he is going to fuck you right against it, not being able to contain himself.

His grip tightens on his shaft. He can feel the familiar tightness building in his balls, warning him of his impending release. 

As he approaches his climax, he lets out a long, intense groan, his fingers founding the way on his throbbing cock. 

With a deep breath, he allows himself to cum, feeling the warmth spreading through his body.

As his last drops of cum splash against the glass, Toto then opens his eyes, catching his breath, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

He cleans himself before quickly stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist while he hears you knocking again.

He opens the door for you, still undressed, wet hair dripping on his bare chest. 

You can't help but look surprised and get a notorious blush, trying to stop your eyes from going all over him. 

"I'll be there in a minute, kid," he says, letting you peek at him before closing the door to your face.

Is this man sending you mixed signals, or are you going crazy?!

-

Much to his surprise, you remain on board the yacht doing other chores instead of joining him at Eze Village. 

Ava stays in charge of Toto and Mr. Holst as they tour the small village; their first stop is the cigar store.

As they exit the shop after spending a couple of hundred, Toto notices the nearby street where many men wander around, going up or down a broad stone stair to a redwood door. 

At 2:00 p.m., that place looks already buzzing, bright daylight still on the streets.

"That strip club is unbelievable," Holst whispers near his ear, noticing Toto's eyes wandering there. "It's pretty hidden and offers lots of privacy. That's why it's so popular amongst the elites, plus the girls in there, woaf." Holst throws a kiss in the air. "We should stop by after lunch, you know, as our dessert." Holst bumps him, and Toto nods, agreeing. 

He very much needs it.

-

Everyone is back in the yacht at the time set. The night starry sky looks beautiful on board, and the waters are calm, but the crew isn't.

The guests look bored and a bit pissed off of waiting for Wolff and Holst; they are nowhere to be seen.

"Should we go look for them?" you ask, concerned for his wellbeing, you mean, their wellbeing.

"No one else gets off here," the sailing master declares after sending two male crew members after establishing contact with Ava; after four tries, she finally picks up the signal.

"We are on our way back," she updates him on the radio, sounding exasperated and a bit emotional. "Also, send Hob to receive us at the platform, but make it tactful."

Everyone in the crew looks at each other with a "Did something happen?" expression as they are all gathered around the radio in the small lobby of the crew's cabins.

"Walk," Hob tells you as he passes you by. Moving fast, you follow him without questioning much. 

As you two reach the platform, you see Arvin and Hob teaming up to carry a totally hammered and passed-out Mr. Holst to get him to his suite.

And Carlo helping out a drunk but still awake Toto to walk him to his room, the Austrian hanging from his shoulder to help his balance. 

Carlo signals you with his hand to move your ass to Toto's cabin.

"Pour him a tall glass of water," he asks you as he lowers Toto on his bed. "Stay in here if he needs something else or throws up."

"Puff, I'm fine!" Toto says, making fun of the large man as he tries to remove his shoes but fails completely. 

Carlo exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you two alone.

"Do you need help with those?" you offer Toto, a bit amused. He looks way less intimidating when drunk.

He shakes his head way too much. Finally, he gets them out with much force, and one bounces around the carpet floor.

Then he attempts to unbutton his shirt. You watch him struggle with that until he gets exasperated, unable to coordinate his hand movements, and wants to sleep now.

"Would you mind?!" he looks pissed off at you as if it was a duty you were supposed to do.

You don't take it wrong and gladly reach out to help him get undressed. 

Toto is sitting at the end of the bed. You stand between his slightly open legs, placing yourself between his knee. As you undo his shirt, he looks up at you, looking straight at your eyes, chin up.

Jesus! That smell! Why he smells like whore? 

Which turns out to be a good thing; otherwise, you would have to resist the urge to throw yourself at him.

As you unbutton the remaining two lower ones, he says, "I picked the one who looked like you," and you have no idea what he is referring to.

He manages to take his pants off; good thing! You would have lost it! And then Toto drops himself face down on the mattress, quickly falling asleep in his trousers.

You place a pillow under his head and involuntarily comb his hair with your hand.

-

He wakes up to the vision of you sleeping all curled up in the armchair you dragged near his bed; a weird feeling washes him over before he rushes to pee.

Once back, he falls asleep again, and no human force will wake him up.

-

After tidying up the room and grabbing Toto's clothes from the floor to the laundry, you leave a hungover kit and a new glass of water on his bedside table before leaving.

Your list of things to do today is nuts.

- 

That same morning, the Chef sends you to get more flour sacks. 

When you open the big, heavy, metallic pantry door, you unexpectedly find Ava crying inside there under the bright light bulb.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly add. Ava immediately turns around and pretends she's looking for something, reading the labels on the cans before her.

You know a crying girl spot when you see it; unfortunately, you have used almost all of them.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, concerned.

"Yes, it's all good. I was looking for this!" Ava answers in her usual tone, picking up a random can.

"The anchovies got you emotional? Got it! I also got emotional in here once for a jar of mayo, and also when choosing which broom to use in the broom closet, and while folding napkins in the linen closet. I get it, girl." You confess to her all the places where you have cried in the yacht due to circumstances.

You make her smile a bit. "No, but seriously, are you okay?!" You ask and try again, sensing she opens up a bit.

Much to your surprise, she starts telling you: "I can't believe he did this to us!" in between cries. "This was supposed to be our gateway trip, not this!"

She sounds hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure about what or who. Still, fuck them for hurting you!" you reassure her, trying to be empathic and supportive while also trying to figure it out.

"He and Wolff spent the entire afternoon inside that fucking strip club! Getting God knows what! I wasn't able to go inside; that stupid no women-allowed policy, you know, fuck them! And that fucking security guy even threw me out of the street, he made me leave, and I had to wait for them FOR HOURS!" now her sadness was starting to become anger. 

"God! I looked like an idiot sitting for hours in that cafe at the corner, forced to ask for food or drinks every once in a while until I saw them pass by through the windows, looking like a mess, barely able to walk and holding rolls of euros in their hands! That's when I sent the signal!"

WAIT A MINUTE! Toto went to the strip club?! You feel a sting of pain and jealousy. Oh, that was the smell! You feel pissed off, with no right howsoever. 

WAIT. Ava is referring to Mr. Holst?! Fuck!

-

Toto looks very comfy in one of the bulky sofas in the living room. This time, he is enjoying the inside of the yacht, staying away from the sun like a vampire, with his sunglasses on and a stern expression; his head must hurt.

You notice Toto's nasty hickeys on his neck in broad daylight as you approach to check on him, the ones that make your stomach revolve in jealousy as if you had the right to feel mad at him.

"I heard there are good natural remedies for hickeys. Maybe we have the ingredients on board. Would you like me to bring you one, sir?" you can't contain yourself.

He pays attention to your every expression. "Just Toto, remember? When it's just the two of us. And, yes, bring it." 

You return with a peppermint oil mini jar on your hands. Toto stays there staring at you without reaching his hand. 

What is he expecting?! For you to rub it on his neck?!" Yeah, you're mad. 

Finally, he grabs it.

"Let me know if you need something else for other regions," he detects your displeased undertones. 

"That's all. I don't need anything else for any other areas. Nothing happened in any other area," Toto hints to you.

"Understood, sir" you willinly ignore him, still giving him shit.

"Kid, are you allowed to go to Holst suite? Tell him if he will face me at the pool table or if he chickens out." Toto stands up and reaches you closer, his chest a centimeter away. Then he pats your head. "Be a nice pet, little one."

You stare, thirsting at his lips. Also, you want to strangle him! Also, he wants to strangle you, but in a different way.

-

As you are about to knock on Mr. Holst's suite's massive entrance door, you hear Ava's muffled, intense moans coming from inside while she groans to him to give her his dick harder.

Yeah... maybe later.

Damn, he must be fucking the "please, forgive me" out of her! Why is Toto not doing the same?!

You laugh at the thought.

-

"Mr. Holst isn't available right now," you inform him upon your return.

"Chicken!" Toto says, pouting.

More like "Cheater," you think. That guy has a wife and kids.

-

Toto ends up playing pool with two of the other male guests at the man cave, nicknamed "The Captain's Delight." 

The room has rich, dark wood paneling and sleek silver accents. It smells of fine leather and cigars. At the center of the place sits a gorgeous pool table crafted from the finest materials, with an emerald green top and balls made from solid, gleaming ivory.

You call the bartender in and start helping him serve the drinks for Toto, Stellan, and Bram.

Stellan's eyes gleam with confidence and arrogance as he sips his drink and makes a ball hit the pocket with a loud crash.

Toto is a bit of a show-off, always trying to prove himself as the best player. 

And Bram isn't much into the game as he can't help but steal glances at you, his eyes lingering on your curves every time he chalks up his cue, acting anything but discreet.

The bidding starts slow, but the stakes grow higher as the game heats up. The men raise their bets, and their voices grow louder and more aggressive as they argue over who made the best shot. 

Bram eyes get bloodshot from too much drinking, and his speech gets slurred as the game progresses. Their competitive spirits fueling the intensity of the round.

Bram's eyes continue to go all over you, from your legs to your ass, where he keeps staring for more than you like and at your breasts every time he addresses you.

On any occasion you pass by near him, you hear him throw a dirty innuendo whisper really low, only for you to listen to it, which makes your skin crawl.

When he misses a hit, he gets angry and throws a fit.

As he remains out of the game, he asks you for a refill of his drink. As soon as you are back, he pulls you by the waist to sit you right next to him, forcing his hand behind you, making you feel really uneasy.

Toto notices it and quickly approaches you, sitting right by your side, with no inch of space between you, causing the other man to slide away casually.

Bram returns to the game as they start a new final round; another "all-in" bid is placed. 

Stellan takes the price, being the best player of the night, much to the dislike of his peers.

Everyone calls it a night. But you stay in, tidying everything up and helping the bartender clean the bar. 

He wishes you a good night, and you turn off the lights and exit the room minutes later. It's almost 3 a.m.

As you leave the man cave into the long, empty hallway that leads to the stairs, you notice from the corners of your eyes that Bram is leaning against the wall there, waiting for you.

You quicken your pace, but Bram follows you, his eyes fixed on you. "Hey, babe," he slurs, his voice growing louder. "You're really something special."

You try to ignore him, but Bram continues, his words getting more and more aggressive. "Come on, babe. Let's get you a drink. I have Tequila Ley in my cabin and have a great idea for a game."

But you are having none of it. You keep moving. The stairs aren't that far away now, but the hallways are empty and dark, making you feel nervous, as Bram is relentless. 

As you reach the base of the stairs, he goes for your arm, feeling you are slipping away. He spins you around to face him, pushing you against the railing, which makes a loud sound. 

He places his hands on your legs and rubs them up, starting to pull your skirt up as he slides them in while you panic, not knowing how to react.

"I heard a collision sound. All good?" a deep voice booms above you.

Bram looks up to see Toto's imposing figure with an enraged face and stabbing eyes, and he immediately yanks away from you.

You take advantage of the distraction to pull free and hurry away up the stairs to Toto. He watches Bram leave, heading back in the direction you were coming.

"Are you okay?" he asks you.

You nod, looking relieved. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for intervening."

Toto nods. "I noticed him creeping on you all night long; I was waiting for you in case he tried something stupid. I should have stayed in the hallway by the door and avoided you this."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You had previously dealt with similar situations, but this one went too far.

"Why don't we get some fresh air? You look like you could use it." Toto suggests, and both think of the same place to go: the flying bridge.

-

"Are you really okay?" Toto asks with concern etched on his face as he notices your eyes lost in the sea. 

You are sitting at the edge of the wooden floor, shoulder to shoulder, with your legs hanging in the air and leaning on the railing as you admire the moon's glow reflecting on the waters.

Even with that beautiful landscape, you can't shake the memory of that creepy guy harassing you earlier. 

Thank goodness Toto noticed how the man leered at you, making those crude comments under his breath. 

God knows what could have happened if he hadn't stopped it before it went too far!

The incident left you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

"You know, if you want to explain to me what hap...," Toto starts saying, but his voice trails off as he looks into your eyes and sees the vulnerability. 

He knows that he should keep things professional between you, but there is something about you that he can't resist.

He places his hand on top of yours, and the warmth of Toto's hand takes you out of your trance. 

He can't help but lean in closer, your heart racing as you see him approach to rest his temple on yours. 

You lean into the touch and wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight, making you feel safe and protected. 

Finally, you can't take it anymore and whisper: "I don't know what's happening between us, but I can't resist you anymore." you smile, your cheeks flushed, fresh tears drying. "But I want you, Toto," you confess.

He looks at you in total silence for what feels like an eternity, just looking at your eyes.

Before your lips meet in a tender, soft kiss that sends waves of electricity through your body, before you move your hands around Toto's neck, pulling yourself closer to his body as the kiss deepens. 

The kiss grows hungrily, and you keep rubbing yourself against him until he wraps you around his waist and lifts you.

He leads you to his cabin, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. As he closes the door behind you, a wave of nervous anticipation washes over you.

He looks straight at you, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. You look back at him, your gaze unflinching, and he knows then that you are ready before lowering you into his bed. 

You glimpse at the bulge on his pants as he moves to place himself on top of you, parting your legs; you pull him closer once more, his lips finding yours as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare skin. 

You close your eyes, savoring his gentle touch, feeling his warmth and hardness. 

He trails a line of kisses from your collarbone to your stomach, taking his time to explore every inch of you as his hands trace the curves of your body; slowly, he slides your skirt off and tosses it aside.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your inner thighs, eliciting a gasp from you; he quickly removes his pants, not being able to contain his erection inside them anymore.

You stare at his dick shaft to the side, and it makes you get wetter with arousal.

Your breath hitches as Toto unclasps your bra, revealing your breasts and teasing your nipples with his fingertips until they harden under his touch. 

His mind is whirling with desire for the beautiful young woman you are. He returns to his position between your legs and starts rocking his hips in circles, rubbing his erection on you. 

You grab his ass and squeeze it, pulling him closer. "Toto..." you whisper, arching towards him. His tongue teases your earlobe, making you shiver. 

"Do you really want this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your answer comes in the form of a moan as you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest. "I've wanted this for days."

He then removes his trousers and, in a single move, pulls down your soaked panties before penetrating you slowly, feeling your body tense up at first but then slowly relax into him. 

Your breaths become synchronized as you both sway together. Your moans fill the cabin, echoing off the wood-paneled walls as you enjoy his length inside you. 

The feeling of being taken so roughly sends waves of ecstasy through your body. Toto runs his fingers through your hair, pulling it. 

With each thrust, you can feel yourself falling deeper in love with Toto. For him, you taste sweet and innocent, yet wild and untamed at the same time. 

He thrusts balls deep into you, taking you completely. Your bodies clasping together in a rhythm. Sweat dripping down as you desperately fuck each other. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, driving him crazy.

After a while of intense fucking, with a couple of final hits, you feel an orgasm releasing from you as you come all over his dick. He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking and his cock throbbing inside you. 

Minutes later, Toto quickly pulls out in a fast move, removes his condom, and lets his cum spill over you. 

You gasp in surprise but then moan as the warmth spreads across your sensitive skin.

He leans down and kisses you passionately, your tongues dancing together in the aftermath of intense lovemaking. You look completely satisfied. 

"That was amazing," he whispers against your lips. You nestle closer to him, your breathing still ragged. 

"No one has made me feel like this before," you murmur, tracing the head of his cock with your fingertips, caressing with your hand all over his chest, then kissing him for a while, tongues dancing, moist lips rubbing.

Then, you both get clean and return to bed, where you are about to spend the rest of the night embracing.

As you are comfortably wrapped naked in his arms while he tenderly runs his fingers on your lower back, Toto tells you: "I have been restraining myself from having you for days.

"Why?" curiosity is filling you.

"Because it seemed inappropriate, plus we couldn't be more different, starting for our ages. I could be your dad!"

"Daddy..." you sigh as you look straight into his eyes, moving your gaze away from his bare chest.

"Stop it," he lets out in a dangerously low voice.

"What? It turns you on? I wouldn't mind another round, daddy," You moan out the last word, being an ass and teasing him. "My shift starts in about 2 hours."

Suddenly, you feel his weight all over you as he, in a fast move, places on top of you, and you laugh. He starts kissing your neck and heading all the way down, biting every inch of your skin.

You release many "daddies" out as he devours your pussy and fucks you hard till the sun comes out. To be continued... < Masterlist | Next chapter >

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[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 01

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ chapter one ; wc | 2.8k

primarily on Wattpad

Index ↪ next chapter

The club lights up with multiple disco colours rotating around the area, the neon, dynamic lighting, and strobes allow the people to see each other in various hues and tints, including you. There you stand, leaning your hip towards the bar while typing a letter and sipping the earthy red wine, 'Pinot Noir' with a twisty fancy straw that the club offers.

"Yeah, I'm gonna do it."

You screamed over for the second time to your friend who sits beside you, grooving herself to the music playing out loud with her champagne glass in her hand.

"There's no way you're gonna do it." Kayla is her name. The only friend you've made here in Seoul, Korea. You wouldn't exactly call her your best friend or good friend, but well, she's been there for you for a couple of months. You both worked together as an intern at the coffee store down the street, and she left for a better job while you're stuck finding job applications to work as a graphic designer that you've mastered. The boundary between your conversation was due to the loud music being played, but you managed to hear her over it. "Just a sec, let me mail my application."

It's one of the 5th applications you've filled for the day and were now sending it at a club, while you're drunk as fuck but you've tried to keep a tweesy bit of your consciousness just so this mail doesn't go all wrong, it can't go wrong. It's for a very prestigious company in Korea. You clicked on the 'send' option of email and turned off your phone to get back to why you're actually here at the club.

"Why not? You guys tried it, and now it's my turn." Picking out the plastic straw with your fake nails, you dropped it and chugged down the rest of the wine, patting your lips against the tissue to wipe off the excess alcohol that was stuck to your gloss, you moaned at the taste of the liquid hitting your throat.

"Girl, you're gonna rock it. Go ride him out!!"

The woman in the red bodycon dress with her hair tied up to a ponytail hyped you more by her words.

She was always ready for a good fuck and have always tried to push you for it too, since it's been a while you've been deprived from sex as you held strongly to your faith of being in a relationship but tonight, you could really feel yourself ready for it and so you were just gonna hit up to anyone who you think would be the best at it.

The dance floor looked so inviting with the couples and single females dancing to the sensual music played by the DJ, what the floor was missing was you so you slipped your way towards it and began to shake your body to the beats of the song. Kayla and a few of her friends cheered for you, and that only made you move harder.

the bodycon dress you wore, showed off your perfect curves that you've worked hard for throughout your life, your ideal hourglass body matched no one's on the stage, you were the woman of the night. Not only does the dress look alluring on you, but the length of it being above your knees, long sleeved, and the box neck of it made most of the men around you to drool. you enjoyed the attention that you received.

It was what alcohol makes you crave for. When the music skipped to the remix of Streets by Doja Cat, the lights dimmed to orange and red, spreading an intimate vibe between couples, allowing the ladies to feel themselves to each word, each beat of each second. The rich smoky scent of cigarettes lingered under your nose, arousing you to grab on and place them between your lips but you control yourself, not wanting to fall into the trap of tobacco once again that left you suffering for months.

What stopped you from dancing was the eyes of a man who sat distant from the dance floor, alone at the corner of the room with his champagne glass around the palms and fingertips. He looked appealing, charming, and smart. you looked over at him to be fully aware if he was, in fact, looking at you or another woman, then making eye contact with the man he looked into your eyes to. sipping his liquid while his hooded eyes never left yours, his eyes welcomed you, so you walked to him to accept his hospitality.

To get a closer look at his eyes, that warmed you, that stopped you from dancing, those eyes that made you feel unique of them all. your heels clicked on the floor, towards the man who was seated on the velvet couch that were coloured in crimson red, unmatching his jet black suit that sparkled with the ebony glitter, his black shirt unbuttoned and his hair sweaty and long that curled up and fell on his eyes, covering his right one.

'fuck, had i noticed him before, it would be me, eyeing him all the way.'

you thought to yourself while you pushed your bangs away from your eyes so you could look at him deeper. "hey?" greeting him with your deep voice, since the alcohol had left your voice box dry, you took a seat beside him, his manly vanilla scent brushed under your nose that allowed you to take a deep breath of his fragrance.

"What do you want?" he questioned you, with droopy eyes, no he did not look sleepy he looked aroused by your presence. his fingertips that gripped his glass, was taken off them as you gulped down the little liquid that he had remained in it. the man was surprised, the move was bold, unexpected yet attractive. you dropped the glass on the table and licked your lips, eyes squinting at the horrible taste of it.

"fuck, that was so bitter."

you whispered under your breath, that he heard as the music at this corner of the room was not very loud. you then looked over at him, since he had asked you a question a while ago before you chugged down his absolute bad taste on alcohol. Being confident was a positive aspect of liquor, it brought that up to you, it allowed you to be who you are within you, bringing out the inner devil. the queen of horniness, the spirit of sex.

"wanna go upstairs?"

mumbling breathly, you asked him, looking over at his eyes, now that he brushed his hair with his fingers allow you to examine his dark black eyes that glare into your soul. you didn't hesitate, you were assured that you needed him. you need him inside of you so you're gonna get it. he analysed you, from that ruby red gloss to that tight figure hugging dress that hugged your waist ever so perfectly leaving your thighs on display that had that flesh just the way he liked it,

so he could grab it with his palm while you rode him. he knew from first glance that he needed you, he could tell that you had the body just the way he liked it, just his type. However, he was not gonna take advantage of this opportunity since you're drunk. "no thanks."

He mumbled, grabbing his champagne bottle and pouring the rest of it into his glass, which you had left a lip imprint with the gloss, he could see how plump your lips were just by the stain you had left. you were not accepting a no for an answer, he dared to undress you with his eyes and he said no. You liked the play, you liked the tension, this made you grow closer to him, the man didn't move.

This, of course, means that he wants you too. "you're missing out. this is a good opportunity. Come on." you whispered, at which he caught on immediately. He was trying his best to ignore you, but he could feel himself getting hard just by this, teasing.

"don't. don't miss it out." He knew that you're doing this intentionally so you could trap him. It's working. the words coming out of your mouth breathlessly, fanning it over his ears while your lips brush on his ear lobe, the man exhaled sharply and quietly not wanting you to know that this is all getting him affected.

for the first time, he feels weak, even sipping the liquid isn't doing anything to him right now, the world seems like it's stopped and you're the only one here, working your way into his pants. he faced you only to see nothing but lust, passion, and the drive of sexual frustration. he looks for confirmation in your eyes, he sees it. he sees how you need this, and you seem conscious about this decision.

"Let's go." You hear him mumble, allowing the both of you to step up from the couch, following him to a corridor that leads to the washrooms. You internally groan at this. You want sex. full on sex not a quickie, but when you walk behind him, his hand never leaves yours. you pass by the horny couples fucking around,

the moans of the females, males and the gay couples who have almost filled up the male restrooms. he walked you into a room, the interior of it modern, ebony and maroon.

scented candles lighting up the atmosphere, rose fragrance slip into each other's breasts. he walked towards you, stopping at the doorstep while you admire the luxury of this area, where no one seemed to be around, this corridor was empty, the faint music was barely heard, just the room giving beauty and the beast vibes. his hand left yours as it snuck into his pockets. glancing over at you, he noticed your reaction and smirked, he sighed and questioned unsurely.

"Still up for it?" you faced him as he now stands in front of you, towering your height as he leans on to the door frame. "I don't second guess my decisions."

whisper and he pulls you inside, pushing you to close the door, his palm held around your wrist tightly, he begins by pressing his lips on your bare neck. his lips were warm against your cold skin, that let him easily melt against you while your hands wrapped around his neck, pushing him down for more, to be harder. a kisser as good as him, makes you crave this more, that excites you as this is just the beginning.

On the other hand, he could not stop tasting you with his tongue swirling around the nape of your neck, finding your sweet spot that he got in a few seconds. allowing your moans to spill out, he groaned against you when he heard your voice. pressing a few kisses after he had left his mark on you, he held your wrist and walked you over to the bed.

you sit on it, looking up at him while he looks down at you. his eyebrow raises, letting you know what he needs, his finger gestures you to take off your clothes so you do, letting the shoulders fall off, when your hand goes behind to unzip it, he pauses you and grew closer to you, his face on your shoulder as he lets his breath fan you while he unzips it. you push it off your body, letting you rest with the lace black lingerie you had worn.

he could feel himself drooling, he eyes wandering around your body so without wasting any more time, he removes his coat and throws it away, then about to unbutton his shirt when you push his hand aside. you slowly began to unbutton for him, this gave him the wonderful opportunity to check you out more, seated on the bed, with your perfectly toned abs. you looked like a masterpiece, a piece he's never seen before, never had he seen a woman this perfect with the most mesmerising features. you threw away his shirt, taking the moment to admire his chest.

fuck, he even has tattoos that decorates his right arm arm. its captivating, distracting you with his canvas that explains his individual touch and unique stories, you want him to tell you about it but now's not the time, especially when he reminds you that you're here for sex. he looks at your eyes, wondering why i've paused, then he sees it.

you're interested in his tattoos, that had him chuckling. "shall we begin, darling?" you looked up at him, then with a smirk and a nod you placed your index finger into your mouth, wetting it with your eyes locked with his. you stroked the man's hard chest,

the man who was confused a few seconds ago, now had his eyes closed as he threw his head back, moaning as he feels his insides heating up and clenching, he felt himself grow, he loved the boldness, he never truly admired dom females but today, you. he thinks he would never get over this or find someone better.

"fuck me?"

you ask, softly, looking up at him with big round doe eyes that made him weak, he wanted to drop on his feet and beg you to fuck him but he didn't. he let himself smirk as he bent down to meet your face, leaving centimeters apart, gently he caressed your chin with his finger and then he hovered over you, slowly pushing you down on bed until you met with the silk sheets, that rubbed against your bare back.

"With pleasure, darling...." he whispers as he sucked on your ear lobe while he pushed himself inside you without any warnings, allowing whimpers and muffled moans that leave from your lips.....

-

"I'm late! I'm late, shit shit."

You woke up to the yelling of the alarm clock that had tried its best to wake you up 30 minutes ago. now showing 7;46 am. in its display. You're supposed to be at the office at 8.

No way you're late on your first day. It's certainly not your first day of work, but it's still your interview, and there's no way you could miss this opportunity. Working as a head graphic designer is all that you need. It's what you've been dying for,

You've been doing multiple jobs to make a living, but there's something you've always been good at and that's been designing and advertising. What's all the qualifications and degrees for if you can't work at what you're best at. And plus this job's description has exactly what you're looking for, so you need this job, it's a need.

It's a blessing that the building is not too far from your apartment. You took a seat in front of the ceo's room. You've been there before as some of the staff reviewed you. Hence, you're under the shortlist.

And now's the big moment, interviewing with the CEO himself because he wants to recruit the best workers for his company, and that means they have to meet his expectations.

So he takes this in his hands. You were nervous, shaking your leg vigorously, and your sweaty hands had left imprints on your files.

"Ms Lee Y/n?"

"Yes, that's me."

"You've been called in." The woman dressed in a black skirt and a white silk shirt spoke kindly to you, leading your way to the CEO's room.

She opened the door, allowing you to walk inside, for which you thanked her, and she left, giving you a bow. you clicked your heels as you walked towards the man who was seated on his luxurious office chair that had its back turned towards you. "Take a seat."

He demanded as he twirled his chair to meet the face of his applicant, with his sheet of papers and pen between his fingers. your eyes widened at the vision of the man in front of you, parting your lips and breathing, only getting heavy with the time passed. the CEO didn't meet you until he had no response from you. He raised his eyebrows, then took his eyes off the paper to meet yours, and he paused. "You?"

He muttered, and you immediately blinked multiple times, looking everywhere else except his eyes. There is no way he is the one. There's no fucking way that your one night stand turned out to be the CEO of the company you applied to. fuck.

-

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[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! Stripper x client! gn! reader

Ehh it feels so weird writing another yandere after MONTHS of only writing about the pre-implemented boys. So, enjoy!

Also, Dino isn't human. Just putting that there so ya'll aren't put off!

Also, extra long fic as an apology for the delay.

Notes: Inherently sexual talk, exploitation, implied coercion (not to the reader, and not elaborated. Only mentioned) Cryptid(?) Mentioned is not accurate, more like a self interpretation.

Yandere! Stripper name: Dino (Dee-no)

The music was so loud inside the prestigious strip club named "Tease." Red lights that hurts to look at if you're not used to it, the smell of alcohol, smoke, and sex lingering in the air, and how can one forget the display of skin exposed?

In this strip club, almost everything is allowed as long as it's consensual.

That comes with a lot of loopholes that a lot of clients exploit, but the way the club only panders to those who have a lot of money, aka the upper echelon of society, means that they get to get away with their... faults, most of the time.

Prestigious in name, their workers and strippers were pampered yet were overworked in a sense that they are obliged to do thing even if they're not in the contract. For example, sleeping with their clients.

It's called the "Special golden shower". Despite it's unfortunate yet intentional name, the client will order from an array of drinks on a menu, and one of them is the "Special golden shower" or SGS for short. This 5,000$ splurge of money is a way to order a stripper for a night. And, if you add 5,000$ more, the stripper is theirs for 24 hours. Of course, the club isn't stupid enough to not throw in freebies. The client can rent a "special" room, in which there's a stripper pole on a stage, a king sized bed, sanitized toys, and contraceptives. There's also alcohol, even food if they want. And the add on for 5k$? They can take out their choice of stripper from the club.

The stripper? Forced to accept it since the split of the money is 50/50. That's 2,500 for a night. If lucky, 5,000.

There's also a special incentive to those who "booked and hooked" clients the most every month. Straight up 3,000$ bonus.

Now who would say no to that?

And the stripper who consistently got number 1 spot for the male strippers, and possibly overall, is Dino.

Nobody knew where Dino came from. He just came to Tease one day, wanting a job as a stripper, saying that he fits their criteria with so much confidence.

And he did. His body, obviously a product of rigorous work out, is lean yet muscular. His hair was luscious and smooth, obviously well groomed. A smooth, angular face that's universally handsome, and stature that rivals even to those in beauty pageants.

Also, his demeanor that's always a "yes-man" made him the perfect employee.

The Tease management love him. He rakes in so much money because he pulls in so much clients. Like an idol, he has loyal fans that goes crazy whenever they knew Dino would have a show. Money upon money, they would scramble to get the SGS bundle. And those who underwent Dino's "care", they would say it was the best sex they had in their entire life. Hell, they said they felt so tired and so weak afterwards. Some even had to get a wheelchair.

Well, that was the rumors anyways.

But this honestly made you curious.

"Hey! Did you hear that the owner's kid is visiting?"

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know really. But this means we need to put on a show. Like a really good show."

Dino paused from washing his face, hearing his other stripper-mates talk about the owner's kid.

He grabbed his soft towel and patted dry his face, intrigued by the news. So he went to his chair and started to slowly put his skin care routine while eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Shit, do you think I can bag 'em? Maybe they'll order the SGS."

"You sure the kid isn't ugly or something? I don't want to fuck some ugly ass--"

"SHUT YOUR TRAP DUDE. Do you want to get fired or something?"

Dino rolled his eyes and decided to shut the conversation from his mind and continued to do his skincare.

'Foolish humans, really. Can they be so conceited in face of such a large sum of money?'

Dino isn't exactly human.

When he's finally of-age, he decided to leave his hometown and mingle with the humans. He's always been so fascinated with them, seeing these people that holds no kind of power at all yet almost dominated earth.

His parents warned him that they are nothing but greedy and destructive. Did he listen? No.

When he finally got to the mainland, he got swept up by the wrong crowd. And naive Dino, got plunged into the night life.

The once bubbly and kind incubus is no more.

At least, with his current lifestyle, he gets fed regularly with sexual energy and life force to the point that he doesn't need to drain that much energy at all. Besides, he enjoys the attention sometimes. If the people weren't creeps.

His parents were right. Humans are disgusting creatures who will spend so much money just for a night of pleasure. And they don't even need it, it's a want.

Their stares, their words, their touches... It's absolutely vile.

But then, Dino is a hypocrite. The money that came from it was too good to be true that even though he doesn't like it, he continued to be Tease's number 1 employee.

He sometimes dream of what his life once was. A hopeless romantic, someone who will find the perfect partner, and promise eternal love with one another. Respecting boundaries, safely and consensually explore kinks and plays, and Dino would only feed on their sexual energy and not anybody else.

That's now a far fetched dream.

The door creaked open, making him snap out of his train of thought.

"Show's in an hour. The owner's kid will be watching, so be presentable... As much as a stripper can be, and give them a memorable time." The stage manager said, before leaving them once more.

Dino sighed and put on his latex micro shorts, kinky boots, and his leather straps. A little bit of perfume, and a sweep of his hair. Some glitter, and he's done.

As expected, a lot of people came for Dino. He tried to squint his eyes as he leaned on the pole. The blaring lights didn't allow him a clear vision of the people on the audience. So he can't tell who's who at all.

The money kept raining as he did a back bend, ascending to an Ayesha. He wanted to bag the owner's kid so much. Maybe they'll give more money.

So he amped up the allure, and admittedly, he raised his charms by using his powers.

More money raining on him, he decided to just give the ultimate show he can.

As expected, he heard the bell that someone ordered the SGS bundle for him.

"You lucky dog." The stage manager slapped his ass, making him glare at him. "The owner's kid booked a 24 hour SGS bundle for you. That's 5k. But that must mean nothing to you since you always get 'em."

Dino smirked, it worked well.

So, he cleaned himself up and went up to the special room.

He saw you, and he's genuinely surprised. He thought you were gonna be some... "Facially challenged" person, but he finds you very pleasant looking. Attractive even.

"Hello, i'm Dino." His smooth voice came out of his mouth. "And may I ask your name, master?"

He smirks. Most clients liked it if he called them master.

You frowned a bit before waving him off.

"Please don't call me that." You said, a bit overwhelmed. "Honestly, i'm only here to shake off my dad. He's really strict, and thinks I shouldn't go anywhere near Tease. So..."

Dino blinked. He didn't expect the owner to be a "wash-hand" type of person. Wash-hand as in he tries to keep his reputation clean but his work involves something "nasty" in society's standard.

"Really? And you're already an adult. So what's with his business breathing down on your neck like that?" For the first time, Dino felt comfortable talking with a client. He sat down on the stage's ledge and looked at you.

"Ugh. I don't know." You twirled your hair with your fingers. And this action didn't go unnoticed by Dino who was looking at you intently. "He's not the best person. He thinks that if I go near here, i'll turn into a... Whore."

Dino was flabbergasted. "What the fuck? What kind of father..."

"I know right?" You raised your hand, annoyed. "I hate him so much."

He started to examine you. True to your words, your outfit is on the conservative side. The only skin showing is your hands, neck, collar bone, and face. In all honesty, you stick out like a sore thumb.

"Hey, you know..." Dino cleared his throat. "With you booking me, that means that I will do whatever you want. Um, so are you here to rebel? Maybe loose your virginity to me or something?" Dino tried to laugh, wanting to lighten the mood. "Or are you secretly not one already?"

"Oh no. I'm not here for that." You stopped him from saying more. "I'm just here to piss my dad off, spend his money in here. I mean, it will still be his really. And renting you for 24 hours will make him go crazy. So uh, help a poor person here?"

For the first time, he didn't dread SGS. Somehow, that lifted a heavy weight on his shoulders even just this once.

It's a well needed break that he welcomed.

"Yeah, sure. Why not. What could go wrong?"

Everything went wrong.

Dino panted, gripping the counter as he washed his face again and again.

But somehow, he can't get rid of the fluster he's feeling right now.

It's been months since he first met you. And true to your words, you both only hung out. A natural friendship born out of helping each other took place. You were his rest, and he was your hero.

He's content with that.

"Like hell I am." He spat out, glaring at the mirror as he brushes his hair back.

That only lasted for two months.

The way you talked to him like he's an actual person and not a sex toy-- it was so refreshing that he started to look forward to your every booking.

Yes, you regularly went back to Tease to book him again and again to piss off your dad who can't do anything. After all, he's all bark and no bite.

It was dangerous.

The more he learned about you, the more he wanted to dig more. At first, he thought you were just a spoiled human who wanted to rebel against your father. But in reality, you were a person who was swallowed by FOMO, and been left out so much because of your upbringing.

He felt pity at first, and that pity turned into a need to save you from your father. He wanted you to experience things you wanted to. Like alcohol, sex, or just to party in general.

As bad as it sounds, he desires to drag you down and influence you to the night life that he knows. Which is darker than the standard. He wants you to know how it feels, he wants you to feel what he knows...

Until that want turned to wanting you.

When did it all start? This heavy feeling inside of him?

His buried innocence was surfacing once more. His hopeless romanticism is eating him alive every time you talked to him. He felt like you were saving him from the wretched world he knows.

Classic knight saves the princess trope, he knows. But god does it feel good to be treated like a person for once. He felt so alive around you and your understanding and non-judgmental personality. He loved that you didn't feel disgusted every time he touches you, or winces at his clothes.

He aggressively rubs the towel on his face and throws it back on the hamper before marching to his chair. He started to quickly apply his skin care routine. The unwanted excitement of seeing you again was bubbling beneath his skin.

He needs to be more beautiful. More handsome, exquisite.

More. And more.

Your damned eyes. Your eyes that he can't forget about at all.

"Fuck!" He almost broke the mirror when he threw his moisturizer bottle at it. "I'm so far gone..."

Your eyes that didn't hold any affection for him.

He can feel it. The need to take you against your will. The hunger for that life force and sexual energy that he desperately needs. But he shouldn't. He really shouldn't.

After all, you kept booking him again and again without any sex. He's about to keel over and just take you then and there just to get what he needs. Especially that it's the first time in so long that he's gone so long without an abundance of it.

He's loosing control. Quickly.

"Hey, Dino. The owner's kid is here again. They said you're booked again for them. Just making sure you know." The stage manager said, breaking the silence in the empty dressing room. Dino nodded and grabbed his boots to wear.

He's going insane.

He wants to be the only one in your eyes. He wants to be your every firsts.

So he'll doll himself up more and more just for you to look his way with unbridled love that he so desperately craves.

And maybe, you'll save him from this hellhole he created once and for all.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | next part

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

Note: Wrote a quick one, I don't usually write about real people so (this is all fiction, don't take it seriously) Can you tell I'm procrastinating on my other WIPs.

Word Count: 2.1k+

“Blacking out at a strip club in Vegas, are you fucking serious?”

Jake, your manager’s voice thunders around the office. 

You sink lower into the armchair, casting your eyes down – ashamed. From your peripheral, you can see Jake pacing up and down behind his desk and yanking at his tie; roughing up his usually neat-suited appearance. 

“Is it bad?” You gather the courage to ask.

There was a lot of shit that Jake lets you get away with. He’s known since you were a young teen with starry-eyed dreams. Except, your dreams did come true. You were living it, working with respected directors and actors on prestigious sets and projects; it was a shot in the dark that you would ever become a working actor much less a critically-acclaimed one but Jake took a chance on you.

But no one had warned you just how much you had to give up in order to keep succeeding at your dream. Work breeds more work, is that what they say?

Well if that’s the case, it certainly felt like it. Since your first big break, you haven’t stopped working. Seemingly flying to every crevice of the Earth to show face at yet another event they had scheduled on your calendar. 

You could barely name the day of the week.

Being in your teens in the public eye was not easy and it hasn’t gotten any easier as you entered your 20s. So they can sue you for trying to have some fun for once in your life. Granted, you may have gone overboard with it… that much you can own up to.

“Is it bad?” He scoffs, reiterating your question in a mocking tone and if it were anyone else you wouldn’t have been able to stave off your annoyance. “Try the end of times… you got locked up in jail. For possession of coke. You can imagine the headlines.”

You wince, clamping your eyes shut. Yeah, that is bad. “It wasn’t mine! It was–”

“Oh, I know whose it was!” Abruptly stopping, he swipes a finger in your direction shutting you up. “You and your little boy-toy can say goodbye to each other ‘til Liv and I fix this goddamn mess.”

“I didn’t know he had it on him, Jake. And he’s not my boy toy.” Your nose screws up in disgust. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. The media caught wind of your weekend away in Vegas with that singer. Did you really think no one would recognize you with a famous musician in a strip club? They have pictures of you in cuffs, Y/N – you’re lucky you didn’t get pressed with charges for drug possession.” 

You hear the tired disappointment in Jake’s voice and feel guilt crawl around in your chest. No words seem to be good enough to fix the mess you created so you stay silent. You can add this to the list of headlines he has had to clean up recently. You keep your head down, like a petulant child called into the principal’s office – which in this situation, was an accurate comparison.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Y/N.” A higher-pitched voice echoes behind you and theoretically, if it were physically possible to pass through atoms, you’d be 6-feet under the Earth’s crust.

Far, far away from Liv.

“I already gave her the talk, Liv. We haven’t got the time. What’s the plan to fix this?” Jake crosses his arms, one elbow propped to hold his heavy head up. The bags under his eyes were a clear indication that like you, he also hasn’t slept since he bailed you out of Clark County Jail – a mere 10 hours ago.

All you knew is that you were waking up in a cold, dingy cell with a nasty hangover and an officer shouting from behind steel bars that someone had posted bail for you. Next thing you knew, you were being escorted out the side entrance of the building and into a blacked-out Escalade then driven to a private tarmac where a jet was waiting to take you back to Los Angeles.

Liv is also someone you accredit your success to. Jake and Liv are partners and often represent clients together. You liked to call them each other’s work husband/wife. Liv is a tough lady, only in her early 30s and already one of the most sought-after PR agents in Hollywood; has a boss-ass bitch attitude and a resting bitch face to match. Where Jake often played the good cop with you, Liv was guaranteed to be the complete opposite. 

Liv rounds the desk, standing beside Jake. She was dressed in business casual clothes but her hair wasn’t done like it usually was – a sign she had rushed over here upon your arrival. Staring you down with a menacing glare before rolling her eyes. “You’re not gonna like it, but I don’t care because we’re way past doing things your way.”

You sit up, a little scared. Liv is not one to mess around with. If she says it’s something you won’t like, you might as well go dig up your own grave. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have an idea as to how to get some heat off your shoulders. Just until the press can find something else to fuss over.” She waves with a hand, furiously typing on her phone.

You and Jake shared a look, waiting for her to continue. 

“Well, are you going to tell us or not?” Jake huffs, throwing his hands in the air. Was he the only one in this damn room that felt like the sky was falling?

A knock interrupts before Liv can respond. “Hold that thought… Come in!” She holds a finger up, shoving her phone in her back pocket. 

You turn around, curiosity getting the better of you. Only, it was Jake’s assistant popping her head in. “Sorry for interrupting, sir. I know you said not to disturb you unless it was urgent.”

Jake runs a tired hand on his face. “Just get to the point, Em.” He says, not unkindly.

“Miss Olivia’s guests are here for the meeting. I was wondering if I can let them in?” The young assistant says timidly. Anyone can feel the thick tension in the room. No doubt she also saw the headlines plastered all over the internet of your face. There was an urgency in her mannerism that told you she wanted out of this conversation as soon as possible.

“Yes, let them in! Don’t make them wait.” She waves frantically. The door closes, leaving the three of you alone for a moment.

“Liv, what is this?” Jake asks before you can.

“Y/N, control your anger and be kind to our guests. This is for you, remember that.” She plasters a large smile with her last words as the door opens; multiple voices can be heard behind you. What the hell does that mean?

“Miss Ortega, great to officially meet you and Sarah, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.” Your head snaps to the side as Liv steps out from behind the desk to greet the people behind you.

The sight has you struck dumb. Why is Wednesday Addams in your manager’s office?

Granted, you know who she is. Who doesn’t? You can barely drive down any highway in L.A. without seeing her face plastered on some sort of billboard or building. But why is she here, in this office?

“Y/N I’d like you to meet Miss Ortega…” You were still rooted in your chair, just staring at them like an idiot. An uptick of a brow is raised as Jenna watches you remain unmoving. 

“Get up.” Jake kicks the back of your chair as he rounds the desk to greet Jenna and her manager, gritting under his breath. You spring up at the thud, rubbing your back in annoyance. 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Ortega.” You extend your hand when she finishes greeting Jake. 

She stood a good few inches under you, dressed casually in loose pants and a hoodie. She had a pair of sunglasses pushing her hair back, which was tied in a messy low bun; headphones around her neck.

You two have never crossed paths in all your years in Tinseltown – which was surprising considering you two are around the same age. There might have been an event or two that you had attended at the same time but you have never had the chance for a formal introduction. It wasn't difficult to see why the whole world was buzzing about Jenna Ortega.

“Just Jenna is fine.” She slides her hand in yours, sending a small, shy smile. The sparks you feel when your palms connect has you flinching almost imperceptibly. You see Jenna’s eyes snapping toward your connected hands telling you she may have felt it too. But before you can think too hard on it, you’re pulling away from her grasp. 

“Let’s all sit down, so we can tell you why you’re both here.”

Jenna takes the armchair to your left, and you fight to keep your sight straight ahead. “There’s no easy way to break the news. But here’s the CliffsNotes version. Over 24 hours ago, Y/N was arrested in Vegas. The press is having a field day, they already have the paps planted outside her house and every location she frequents. Our solution… a PR relationship, just until all of this has died down.”

You stare deadpan at Liv. Out of all the years, you have known her, this has to be the most balls-to-the-wall, bonkers shit she’s ever said to you. 

“What?” A sweet voice piques beside you, voicing out the shock you weren’t able to verbalize.

“A fake relationship, sweetie.” Her manager, Sarah says in a much sweeter tone than Liv could ever muster.

You can see her shake her head from your side eye. “We agreed to no PR stunts like this, Sarah.”

“I know, Jen. But with the recent controversy online… we just think this may be a good look. Liv called me last night and we came up with this plan and thought it couldn’t hurt with both of your situations.” At least her manager sounded apologetic. 

Jenna scoffs, feeling irritated and ambushed. “No offence, but I can handle a few nobodies online. And my situation is nowhere near as bad as hers. If anything how would pairing me up with someone who does drugs be good for my image.”

Your head snaps to her, nearly growling, “Watch it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She bites back, turning to glare at you. “Is it not the truth?”

“No.”

“We got a drug user and a liar, great.” She mutters under her breath.

“Okay stop! You two don’t have a choice,” Sarah speaks up, sending Jenna a look you didn’t care enough to decipher. 

“Get someone else,” You say to Liv, ignoring everyone else around you. “Literally anyone else, please.” 

Jenna puffs out an incredulous scoff. “Screw you, dude.”

“Screw you too!”

“Jenna!” “Y/N!” The adults of the room shout over one another, chastising you both.

“That’s enough!” Jake shouts, getting you to break your intense glaring at the other actress. Jake’s tone slightly scared you, he was never one to raise his voice. And you knew you were balancing on some very thin and fragile ice with him at the moment. 

“This is the plan and that’s final! Jenna, everyone sees you as America’s sweetheart after the success of Wednesday. As much as it sucks, everyone is watching your next move, personally and professionally. And Y/N, you’ve been in the press for literally all the wrong things this year, and yet, the public can’t get enough of you. It’s good publicity on both sides… So you two will learn to get along – for the sake of both of your careers.” He says with a tone that leaned on threatening and you didn’t have the balls the challenge him on that. 

You had worked too hard for the life you have today just for it to be thrown away by a careless mistake. So if you had to buckle down and act in love with one of the most annoying people you had ever met, in world-record time, then so be it.

“How long…” You mumble, dropping your head in defeat.

“Three months at most. Less the quicker people forget about your night at the county jail.” Liv answers.

“Fine…” You conceded.

A few seconds of silence ring out before she answers, “Fine…”

●●●

Jake and Liv @ Reader:

I swear there's a SpongeBob meme for everything.

:)