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totothewolff · 9 months ago

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Season of Love (8/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

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The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 8: Safety car needed

Trigger warning: Child trauma, abuse.

Belgium

And to think Toto felt guilty enough about hiding from you his decision to get back with Susie and try to make things work with her, giving himself the hardest time for it while you had been married this whole time!

The two of you are truly made for each other since none of you have morals.

He wants to grab the helmet on the clear glass coffee table inside his remote office before him and smash it against it, but he contains himself.

Instead, he stands up to pour himself a drink that's almost pure alcohol and just a bit of ice, frantically prancing around the room.

This GP is "hometown" for you guys.

Mathew's assistant has zero problems fitting it into his busy schedule, so he can assist in your name.

It's not that you do much for the team, anyway. You are more like a figure to lift the morale and PR the team and its sponsors around.

Mat looks excited to be at the paddock. He loves the attention he is getting. He remained as far from it as possible for obvious reasons, but now it seems like an excellent time to join in the fun.

Mainly because he feels like it, and when he likes something, he has it.

Now that the real boss is in town, people need to get used to his presence and his long list of shenanigans.

Get a grip!

The weekend at Spa starts with the now-usual FIA meeting. On this occasion, everyone is on time.

The group is gathered in the final rows of chairs in another world's saddest meeting room. As always, they are messing around while they wait for the meeting to begin.

—This carpeting looks out of a 70's Vegas casino —Seb mentions, looking around his feet.

—It's giving "cheap motel," —Charles adds.

—It's giving "crime scene" —Samanta joins in.

Toto and Fred enter the room, beverages in hand, gossiping.

Woaff! Lewis notices that Toto looks rough. His hair is messy, and big dark circles are under his eyes. Also, he seems reddish on the cheeks. Is he drinking at work?! Lewis recognizes that kind of blush on him.

—It's giving "once someone died in here" —Checo jokes as he pictures a silhouette drawn with chalk while staring at the floor.

—It's giving "I think I saw this place in Law & Order" —Millie says.

—How many hours of L&O have you seen? —Mick changes the topic, knowing Millie is a fan.

—More than needed —she admits.

—So you weren't joking when you said, "I go and put Law & Order on any device before a race as my race ritual"? —George looks at her, eyes widening and holding a giggle.

Sam interrupts as Millie is about to answer: —Elvis has arrived.

All their heads turn to the door as Matthew swags in.

—Armani ani ani ani —Millie sings Megan The Stallion style. —He looks so stylish in that suit! Hot!

—He is your boss, dude! —Oscar says and looks at her, chin up.

—And married to my wife! Who's also your boss. So more respect, please —Lando adds.

—Does that make you her father? —Sebastian jokes, pointing at the blonde.

—Are you Millie's dad?! —Lewis joins in, acting shocked.

—Dad?! —Millie turns in his chair to face Lando, wide eyes and arms reaching for a hug.

—You all stupid —Sam laughs, enjoying the exchange.

Mathew being the annoying ass he is, goes straight to her and drops in the chair next to Sam, placing his arm around her shoulders. —Amelia, hi! —Mat addresses her with a big-ass smile and stunning blue eyes staring at her.

—AMELIA?!! —everyone but Millie lets out in shock.

—How lovely to see you! —Sam greets him with a "fuck you!" gaze but answers with the sweetest voice.

—Yes, that's her middle name, you didn't know?! —Mat asks the group, pretending to be shocked, knowing she hates that name.

Then, the FIA deputy enters and asks Mathew to join him upfront since they are addressing the whole Lenkov situation and the new safety on paddock protocols with the drivers for the first time.

—Well, now that everything is clear, I will leave the microphone to Mr. De Vos to introduce himself...

—Yes, take off your shirt and tell us —Lando jokes in a low voice, next to Millie, discreetly bumping her and laughing low.

Those fuckers.

Everyone looks bored as Fred goes forever after grabbing the mic to discuss the car skidding due to fluids and oil spills on the pitlane.

—No, you guys. I like this topic! I identify with it since I'm also fluid —Millie adds, all confident and open.

—Genderfluid? —Seb smiles big at her, eyes sparkling at her gutsy statement.

—I love the gender fluids —Lando jokes, with a cheeky innuendo as usual.

—I wouldn't mind some gender fluids instead of this, mate —Dani adds.

—I would have the gender fluids, please! —Mick jokes, pretending to raise his hand.

—I'm feeling my gender-fluids right now —Millie colorfully adds while looking at Mathew.

—What fluids is he talking about?! —George asks, serious, not recalling watching spots or brushes on the pitlane, unable to hear Fred accurately and utterly unaware of the jokes around.

—The genders —Seb and Millie answer simultaneously before bursting out laughing, watching a perplexed George.

Everyone in the room turns their heads to them.

—Oh shit!

As soon as the doctors inform you that you can leave the hospital, your team moves you to the Manor, where Mathew insists you take a break and rest before putting a foot back on the paddock, much to your complaints.

He lets you know he will handle it while you are gone, and not enough "I'm fine!" on your part makes him change his mind.

Nothing good will come out of this with him there, you know that!

The press is desperate to get an interview out of Mathew, and the photographers already love him, a cloud of lens following him around.

With those looks, impeccable suit, and swag, who wouldn't want to snap his picture?

But his security has him covered.

A new and hot Sky Sports reporter approaches him, and he lets her slide in, with a microphone in hand and a cameraman following her.

Mathew gives her an exclusive interview, instantly switching to his most charming, funny, and sweet persona. He shines under the lens, showing his big, bright smile with gorgeous teeth.

Mat reaches the reporter's ear when the interview finishes and the cameraman lowers the lens. —Tower Suite 1898 The Post, 7:00 p.m., don't be late. I'm fucking you in dark lingerie and ankle-strap black high heels.

She nods, all blushing, knees shaking at his invitation.

Okay, Toto can't resist it anymore. He promised he wouldn't do it, but he can't. It's driving him nuts.

He opens his iPad and smashes the keywords on the Google search bar, typing "Mathew De Vos."

A ton of links and information show up.

"Cambridge Faculty of Law Board Member, Masters in Corporate Law, PhD. in Law, former ONU ambassador, former Interpol Associate"

Toto closes those taps after reading them and moves to the next more frivolous ones.

"#4 on World's Richest Men, #2 Billionaires Under 30, #2 GQ's Stylish CEOs"

In all his status, Mathew appears married, and in most of his interviews, he always mentions his wife, you, which hurts him.

Okay, but what does Matthew do right now? Why buying an F1 team? There's nothing linking him or you to the sport. Could it be just for a hobby?

"Current investor and CEO of Little Heroes Global: Safeguarding Minors Around the Globe."

Okay, there's still no connection. Maybe it was just a good business deal?

Toto keeps reading and then moves to trashier, gossipy sites.

Le Soir

Brussels, 2004.

Tragedy strikes De Vos family as helicopter crash kills parents, leaving 16-year-old son heir.

A devastating helicopter crash in the rolling hills of Belgium has claimed the lives of Victor and Lina De Vos, leaving their 16-year-old son, Mathew, the sole heir to their vast family fortune.

According to eyewitnesses, the De Vos family was on a routine flight from their estate in Wallonia to Brussels when the helicopter suddenly lost control and crashed in a nearby field. The accident occurred at approximately 10:45 a.m., with rescue teams arriving on the scene within minutes.

"It was a scene of utter devastation," said Alfred Van der Meer, a local farmer who witnessed the crash. "I saw the helicopter go down and then... grey clouds."

Victor De Vos, a wealthy businessman and billionaire, was 45 years old at the time of his death. His wife, Lina, was 42.

The couple was known for their philanthropic efforts and various charitable organizations throughout Belgium.

Mathew De Vos, 16 years old at the time of the accident, is now the heir to his father's business empire and the family's Manor. The exact value of the estate is unknown, but insiders close to the family suggest that it could be worth hundreds of millions.

"We are still trying to come to terms with this tragedy," said Michel Droveb, his godfather, a family friend, and business associate. "But we are all relieved that Mathew is safe and will be able to carry on his parents' legacy."

As news of the tragedy spread, tributes poured in from around the world. "The De Vos family was a shining example of generosity and kindness," said King Leopold II of Belgium. "Their loss is a great blow to our nation."

Funeral services are scheduled for next week at the St. Michael's Cathedral in Antwerp.

In the meantime, Mathew De Vos has been taken under the wing of his family's trusted advisors and is expected to continue his parents' business endeavors.

As he begins his journey as one of the world's youngest billionaires, Mathew De Vos has vowed to honor his parents' memory by using his wealth to make a positive impact on the world.

"We will continue to give back to our community and support those in need," he said in a statement. "My parents would want nothing less."

The exact cause of the crash is still under investigation.

Toto finishes reading the old entry on the news site, a bit pale and shocked. That may explain some of Mathew's attitude.

He locks his iPad after indulging himself too much and thinks it's enough. Toto has more important things to do.

As soon as you are allowed to leave the bed, you go visit Mat's mom since you miss her very much. You walk there barefoot, feeling the cold wood and stone floors of the Manor all the way to the next wing.

She is peacefully lying in bed. The massive room is full of bright natural light, and a fresh and stunning bouquet of her favorite flowers is placed on the nightstand next to her, filling the room with a delicious scent.

You want to tell her all about your new life and the people you have met, and as you share everything about Toto with her, you get emotional and overwhelmed.

So when Mathew arrives there after searching for you, he finds you crying while holding her limp hand.

He comes closer and sits at the border of his mother's ICU hospital bed, placing himself between it and the armchair where you are sitting at.

The room remains quiet, just the sounds of the life support pieces of equipment keeping his elderly mom alive, in a coma, but still.

He tenderly kisses her mother's temple before facing you, leaning his body in to wipe the tears sliding down your cheeks.

—Tell me what's hurting you to fix it? —compassion and care fill his eyes.

—This has no fix. Damage is done —you stare down at your hands before adding: —But going out to dinner can help me feel better.

He nods. —I know the place.

Sam joins you for breakfast at the Manor the following morning, where you tell her every detail about the plan, now being able to, and how it went.

—Then Pascal played one for the team again! —she says before grabbing a portion of her pancakes.

—I'm worried about him. I hope he is safe and well. —you express with deep concern, much to Mathew's dislike.

—Oh, he is. He let me know days ago —Mat says in the most nonchalant, neutral voice while picking his fruits.

—What?! Why didn't you tell me?! I've been worrying all these past days! —now you sound exasperated at him.

A "here we go!" face sets on Sam.

—You needed to rest! No further point! —Mat continues, still not caring, as if nothing was wrong.

—Stop telling me what I need! —you raise your voice at him, now you are mad!

He looks up and stares at you with an icy look but doesn't reply; he continues having breakfast as if nothing is happening.

One day, you will lose it with Mathew's controlling and psycho moves.

You regain your composure and add: —This can't keep happening! I need to know the things that involve me right at the moment!

—Understood —it's all he says.

—And what about Lenkov? Any whereabouts? —Sam says, pushing topics, used to witnessing you fight.

You text Seb to let him know you are at the Manor now.

—I'm glad! But where's that?! Do you own a manor? It doesn't sound much like your style! Ah, and thanks for answering back!

—Sorry for the delay in replies! I was resting. Shit! I forgot you don't know about it. Let me ask Mat if you can pop by. He is very particular about who is allowed here.

—No worries! I can ask him myself. I'm watching him right here.

Seb puts his phone inside his red tracksuit pocket, scooters down the pitlane to Mat beside Michael, and chats casually with the men in German before asking him the question.

—Wait, Seb!

Seb doesn't read your text. Seb takes Mathew entirely by surprise.

Mathew allows him to visit you, sensing Vettel is kind and has some guts to reach him.

When you return to the Manor, feeling tipsy after drinking a lot in that sports bar where you watched the race in secret.

Your heart sank every time Toto appeared on screen, looking as handsome as ever but without acting playful in front of the camera.

Sebastian is already in the old drawing room, waiting for you and chatting with Mat in a friendly way, which is rare. Damn, time flew by!

—And there she is! Hello, drunk! —Seb greets you as soon as you enter the room.

Mathew sends you a cold look, which you defiantly ignore.

—Bee guy! —you reach Seb and give him a warm hug. —Podium, heh!

—I know! Third place! Not that bad for this old man?! Tell Millie to leave me to win sometime, one win this season, pretty please! —Seb smiles big at you.

—No way, Jose! I'm sorry for making you wait with this one! —you point to Mat with your thumb.

—Alcohol produces brain damage, and you need cold water and food! I see you two at the dining table.

Mat exits the room, annoyed; he hates alcohol, cigars, drugs, sugar, and everything that's unhealthy for the body.

—Does he always swags all moody like that? —Seb asks, following him with his eyes, raising his eyebrows.

—Oh yeah —you let out a giggle.

You love Vettel.

—And those are your parents, right? —Seb asks, observing the massive regal oil painting of a family of three hanging on the wall by the exquisite wooden crafted stairs before sensing the atmosphere changing.

He got offered a tour of the Manor.

—Yes —Mat answers solemnly, you two standing near Seb while he leans to peek. All alcohol is out of your system by this point.

—Do the eyes follow you around as you walk past? —Vettel jokes in the most Sebastian way possible.

A smile forms on Mathew's lips. —It sometimes shakes too. You know when father disapprovals! —he pats Seb a bit too hard on the back.

—It's a bit too much, isn't it? —you join in. Shruging your nose, looking at the old painting.

—Yeah —both men agree, letting out in unison.

—You were such a cute kid. What happened?! —Seb teases Mat.

—Life, life happened to me —he answers, more honest than joking, oblivious to Seb, clear to you.

Why is Mat acting open and friendly with him?

—Ta-dah! This is my room! —you invite Seb to hang out in a more private space, taking him to the last spot of the tour.

Mathew had already left to the wing of the Manor that is his. He always hides in there; sometimes, you even forget he exists or that you were supposed to live with him.

—So this is where you grew up? —Seb is curious and naturally funny, so he is already playfully peeking into your drawers, looking at the Polaroids on the wall, and checking the decor. —Oh wow, baby Sam!

He points to a picture where "kid Sam" and a younger Alexi, Mat, and you appear.

—Yeah, that's about when I arrived here, and no, I didn't grow up here —you shake your head several times. —I wish!

Now, Seb is confused. Mat just told him you two lived together "since you were kids." —Then, where?

—Here, take a sit —you invite him to hang on the sofa in front of the big stony fireplace as it lights the huge room. The night is fully set, and the air in the countryside is cold. —Bare along...

This story is not a happy one.

You will never forget that big old mansion in the woods where you grew up. Your oldest memories start there at age four.

You had no idea who your mom was; you had never met her, only your nanny, who cared for you and your baby sister, a cute five-month-old girl, a chubby, healthy baby with pink cheeks.

You loved holding her; she always wrapped her fingers around your thumb and tried to get your long, shiny hair into her mouth, which made you giggle.

You let her play with your teddy bear; she is the only one allowed to grab "bon-bon."

You love wrapping big bowties around its plushie neck, and your papa occasionally gifts you colorful and shiny ribbons.

Every day, you take lessons with a rigorous and cruel governess who teaches you manners and scolds you when you do things wrong, calling you an animal and a brute whenever she loses her patience with you.

You don't like how she treats you, but you don't notice anything wrong with it. It feels ordinary to you.

The following day, your nanny wakes you up early and tells you they have important guests coming over, and you must look pretty to welcome them.

She combs your hair roughly and, in a rush, pulls it into a tight bun as instructed while you are on your feet on top of the makeup chair.

She puts you into a puffy chiffon dress and starts applying you makeup, which you love. You like all those things: hairstyles, dresses, makeup, nails, glitter, and sparks.

When you see yourself in the mirror, you look like a doll that belongs on a shelf as you stick your tongue out and make silly faces at your reflection.

She then takes you downstairs to your favorite room of the large house. The playroom is colorful and has many toys to play with; it's a shame you always play alone.

You go inside and grab a couple of plushies and a plastic tea set when you notice several stern and tall men watching you.

You feel a little bit shy under their stares; among them is a man who looks intensely at you.

He is a tall, silver-haired, muscular man with captivating eyes and a dangerous smirk that could charm the devil himself.

Standing next to him are gunmen and two large menacing dogs guarding him.

Another group of gentlemen join him before they all enter your dad's office, a forbidden ground for you.

After a while, everyone exits the house's entrance door and leaves, but the silver-haired man stays longer.

You have seen him before; he is your daddy's boss.

Sometimes, they have meetings, and whenever he is at the house, they get you all cute-looking and rushed downstairs.

He always asks for you and handles you expensive gifts every visit.

You get distracted by him bringing you cake; all you want is a slice. The merengue looks delicious and smells like vanilla.

Your dad and the man come closer to you. He greets you brusquely, caressing your cheek.

Now that you are near him, you look terrified at the two scary Dobermans monitoring your every move.

—They don't bite unless I command them to —He looks at the muscular animals. —So be a nice girl —he jokes with you.

You reach closer to your dad's leg, trying to hide behind it, but he neither pats nor reassures you.

—Status on her training? —the silver-haired man asks.

—She is about to start it, sir.

—When it gets done, send her to me —he instructs with an authoritarian voice but nonchalant.

He brushes his hand on your hair before he heads out of the big, beautiful wooden entrance door.

As the days go by, you start to spend more and more time studying with your governess.

That cruel woman seems to be under such stress of quickly teaching you many things, so she behaves even more viciously.

Your German, French, and English lessons feel too much for your little brain. No six-year-old should feel this pressure on herself; all you want to do is play.

You get moody and start to cry, not being able to take it more; you are tired!

Suddenly, you feel a painful sting on your cheek; your dad slapped you hard for whining. —Stop crying, behave! —He commands you.

And you do so.

You are in the staff's kitchen, sitting on a high barstool, legs swinging in the air, while the cook prepares the meal.

You ask her to make you a sandwich, but she tells you you are no longer allowed bread or carbs.

That kitchen leads outdoors to the massive gardens by a backdoor; it's a vast property.

Another prominent building sits right across the field, in the distance, behind some bushes and trees.

You are not allowed out, and you are not allowed to go near there.

But you are a curious and strong-willed girl, after all.

You peek through the window and see two little boys and girls walking from room to room inside the other property. You want to go and play with them, as you are always among grown-ups.

The cook follows your gaze and rushes you out of the kitchen and back to the living area.

It's late at night, and you wake up to the sound of your stomach growling.

The house is so quiet, as everyone is sleeping, and it's the perfect moment for you to sneak to get ice cream.

You risk going to the kitchen after your curfew because you feel hungry from the small portions they have given you lately.

For some reason, they have been measuring and weighing you daily.

You navigate the large house's hallways, avoiding making a sound. Your steps softly creak on the wooden floors unnoticed, which is why you are barefoot, which is also not allowed.

You finally make it to the kitchen and, on your tiptoes, take the big bucket of ice cream out of the freezer and to the countertop.

You are short for your age, which makes you look younger and even more adorable. You are such a cute, tiny girl.

You hop on the stool and eat the chocolate ice cream straight from the bucket with a big spoon, licking it; chocolate goes all over your collar and lips.

If the governess saw you doing this, she would lock you in the closet. She had done it before and made you spend an entire night there for disobedience.

You cried hard for your dad. That place was cold and dark, but he never showed up.

You catch movement with the corners of your eyes outside the large window into the garden's bushes, the same window from which you peeked out earlier.

A small shadow moves quickly, and you get a bit scared, but curiosity makes you reach closer to the window's glass, your nose almost touching it. It feels cold, it must be freezing outside.

You catch a small girl hiding in the bushes and dropping to the dirt quickly as she notices you.

The door to the outside is just steps away. What if you go help her? She looks distressed and must be cold!

You know you are not allowed to, yet you go.

You expect the door to be locked, but you open it easily.

You hear a soft beep as you set foot outside on the deck. Then the alarm goes off, and the motion detection lights turn on; they are so strong they blind you.

You watch the little girl run to the forest as fast as she can. You try to go after her when you feel a firm grip pulling you from the hair and throwing you back into the kitchen.

You hit the floor hard, sliding in.

You see a pair of black combat boots about to kick you in the stomach when your dad's voice screams very loud.

—Don't get her scratch! She's valuable! —the man immediately stops mid-kick with a yes, sir.

You watch the other guards drag violently the little girl back inside the other building.

You barely hear her indistinct screams in the distance. As you lose sight of her, you think she is begging for her mother, and then the door gets violently slammed close in front of you and locked down this time.

You don't understand what is happening but remember feeling freaked out that day.

You then recall how scared you used to feel every single day back in those times.

They leave you for two days inside that dark closet with no food and no water as punishment.

The following month, the governess tells you she has finished her job with you but informs you that your training is set to start.

You don't get what she means by "training."

Then, she leaves the study room and returns with a boy about two years older than you.

You quickly get happy to see someone close to your age and not another adult. You have been raised among them.

The boy looks rigid and lost in the eye as he approaches you.

When he is standing before you, he pulls you closer and kisses you on the mouth. You giggle at the sensation. It feels funny!

But you see nothing wrong with this, you like the contact since you have never been held like that.

These lessons last for several weeks. They get weirder and more touch-y each time.

When winter arrives, it starts to snow outside. You are cozy sleeping in bed, hugging your teddy plushie under your warm blanket.

The fireplace creeks and heats the room when you hear heavy footsteps outside your bedroom door before it opens.

A big, bulky guy picks you up from the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, waking you up. He carries you down the hallway, heading with you down the stairs.

There, you see your dad, for the last time, on your way to the SUV with tinted black windows parked right outside the front door.

It turns out that man wasn't your father, nor was this your actual home.

You remember feeling increasingly nervous as the car gets further away from the property. All you think about is Bon-bon and the baby.

You cry.

You are sent to the Serbian ring, where your price is high for obvious reasons. You overhear the man who takes you there sound delighted at how high your bid went.

You don't understand a thing.

Two days later, they fly you to a high-end hotel bungalow in Bali, where an older man expects you.

They make him read some papers with terms and things he is suggested not to do to you since this type of man doesn't like the phrase "not allowed to," and he agrees.

The chaperone then closes the room door behind you, leaving you alone with him.

You don't know what to do next, so you watch him remove his tie and shoes as he points you to the bed.

As an obedient and collected girl, you get in there.

This man paid in advance for an entire year of your services and exclusivity, which is an enormous amount of money.

They make you meet with him always in different countries and locations until he gets bored of your body and moves to the next younger new girl.

After that, they return you to the market, and you visit the ring again, this time in Turkey.

You were supposed to live in several security houses when you weren't traveling around the globe to meet your owners, which never happened to you.

They rotate them constantly, and cameras and microphones are everywhere, so the other girls and boys cannot interact.

It doesn't matter much anyway.

With time, you learn that the more money you make them, the better things go for you.

Soon, you discover you are one of the privileged ones since Lenkov, the silver-haired man from childhood, is infatuated with you and asks for you whenever he wants you.

He is a scum.

—If you weren't so good for my business, I do have you living here with me full time like one of my dolls —the fit older man tells you while inhaling coke from the tits of a busty teenager.

While another underage girl like you sits in his lap wearing a tiny bikini, five of them are in there fighting for his attention and petting him all around at his open-floor mansion by the sea in Punta Cana, where he currently lives. You are the youngest one in there.

Lenkov has many places and doesn't stay in one longer, and the girls he likes for his sick enjoyment only get to follow him all around.

It's a better type of prison to be at; you get to learn, and it's way better than getting bid off in the rings.

At least with him, you know what to expect.

Lenkov hosts one of his infamous parties as a goodbye to Punta Cana, which is full of powerful and corrupt guests.

Drugs, alcohol, and a bunch of underage girls and boys are there at their disposition and for everyone's enjoyment, all if they pay, of course!

Bricks of money and bags full of rolls are on several surfaces.

After your previous owner passed away in a very sketchy way, you are pretty sure he got himself poisoned.

Lenkov ordered that they broght you so he can enjoy your body during the weekend and for your attendance at the party since a couple of Arab princes and some Serbian moguls will be there, and he wants you to work your way with them.

A very stoic, tall, and older man in an expensive suit sits, legs crossed, in the expensive armchair next to Lenkov.

He looks you up from afar, his eyes traveling every inch of your skin.

You know how to read a room by this point in your life. So you get closer and slowly twirl for him.

—She —he turns to tell the silver-haired man, looking at you, and Lenkov nods, allowing it.

There he was, your new owner.

God, you hated that word. You weren't a thing to be own; you were a person, even if they didn't treat you like one.

When your chaperone opens the door to a massive suite in Dubai, you are surprised to be greeted by a tall, gorgeous, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, dark, wavy hair, and great skin.

He is big and athletic. You would find him extremely attractive if he wasn't this sick person.

After being with many 50-plus-year-olds, a 33-year-old feels young enough for you. Even if he is not, you are only 14 by this point.

Well, you have been told you are.

Since you don't own a passport or credentials, you don't know exactly who you are, how old you are, where you come from, or anything about yourself.

He agrees to the terms presented to him, and then, as usual, you are left alone with him.

Either they go all over you immediately, asking you to take your clothes off in an instant or foreplay a bit before demanding you to go straight to the bed.

But none of the listed happens this time.

He returns to his laptop, where he seems busy working. Of course, he didn't forget about you. He was totally ignoring you.

It's always tricky with these guys! They are often arrogant, violent, controlling, or power-obsessed and challenging to read or act around.

But, unfortunately for you, you have enough experience dealing with all those types.

So you take off your dress, revealing your tiniest lingerie, and against your will, as usual, approach him, showing off your body.

You get into his lap, placing yourself on his crotch.

You don't want problems, and you know what happens to girls who get a "bad review" to say it like that.

He stops reading what's on his screen, getting distracted by you, then turns to grab his jacket and offers it to you. —No need for any of that —he tells you.

And you put his coat on.

It looks so big on you, covering your whole body. You move to sit on the sofa near him.

Dead silence.

He couldn't care less about you.

—Sir, I'm all okay? Is there a way I can pleasure you? If I'm doing something wrong, please let me make it up to you —you freak out as you notice the time of your session is running out; you don't want trouble.

—I didn't hire you —he says, still typing and looking busy. That takes you off guard. He looks straight at you with those fierce blue eyes, frowning.

—Pardon?

—My sick father gave you to me as a "forgive me" present —he lets out with disdain. —I don't get how he is okay with this stuff. I'm not too fond of paid girls or STDS. I'm not into the young ones.

—I'm very clean, I get tested all the ti-

—So, how does this shit work? —he interrupts you, not caring about what you are saying. —I read on paper that a titanium package was paid. Even the name sounds absurd!

You look at him collected, avoiding saying a dumb thing, being extremely careful with each word.

—It means I'm exclusive to your enjoyment, and you have me ten sessions before acquiring the package again if I please you, that I promise I-

—I see —he again interrupts your rehearsed speech.

You hear soft knocks in code on the door. It means Fran, your chaperone, of course you know that isn't his real name, is waiting for you.

You get your dress back on, and he walks you to the door.

Before reaching it, he suddenly pushes you into a rough and intense kiss, messing your hair and fucking your lipstick, biting open your lip, and, in a powerful movement, tearing your dress a little bit, taking you by surprise.

Fran opens the door at your lack of response and quickly apologizes, witnessing some of the action. —I didn't mean to interrupt, sir.

—No worries, I'm done with her —he says deadpan, pushing you out with a big slap in the ass.

This goes on for the subsequent sessions.

He doesn't touch you more than what is required to pretend you two did the thing. He is clever at keeping appearances.

—So, as long as I have you under my power, I can take my time to have our "sessions," right?

—Yes, sir, but not that much.

—Good, that gains us little time.

He asks you one night while looking out of the panoramic windows, sipping his coñac.

Damn, he is muscular and hot.

—Feel free to use the suite amenities. You are not allowed out of the room, correct?

—Oh no, I'm not —you confirm quickly, not wanting to get in serious trouble. Guards parol you, so there's no way you could get out even if you tried.

He renews his package with you without touching or disrespecting you in any way.

Every time you meet him, you expect him to ask you to return the favor. Your life experiences have made you wary and distrustful.

But he doesn't.

—Yes?! —he looks your way. You have been staring at him for five minutes. He is not the most tender-speaking person.

—I'm sorry, I wasn't, I-

—It's alright, you can talk.

—No worries, you seem busy.

—Go straight to the point or remain shut up —he dislikes wasting time.

—Why are you doing this? —you venture to ask. —I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I'm more than thankful to you, sir.

—Don't call me sir; it makes me feel dirty —he drops himself on the sofa beside you, giving himself time off from work, stretching. —I get what you are going through. I'm in a prison of my own, too.

You remain quiet a little bit, pensive to open your mouth, knowing you can trust no bitch, but this feels different. So you trust your gut. —What do you mean?

—My father got my family, me included... —he stands to pour himself another glass of coñac and offers you one. You aren't allowed to drink unless they offer you, so you accept it. —...dragged into his illicit business, sadly, we have no way out now.

—I think I met him once from afar. No disrespect, but he seems harsh.

—You can disrespect him all you want. I hate my father; he is a scumbag, he got my brother locked up and murdered in jail, and my mother is also dead, thanks to him. So now it's just us.

Silence.

—Are you in any danger? —you ask, honestly concerned.

—Worried about your situation?

—No si- shit! —you quickly correct yourself. —Sorry, what do I call you?

—Pascal, that's my real name, by the way. As you can see, I don't care much, and yes! I'm always in danger, not imminent, but still, it's a dangerous game I'm playing.

—You are kind to me, that's why I asked. I don't know my real name, so I have no name you can call me.

—I can think of a couple of ones —he makes an innuendo, and by your shocked expression, he quickly adds. —I'm joking! I'm kidding!

You laugh for the first time in God knows how long.

Knocks come on the door.

That goes on until Lenkov becomes possessive of you and warns him that this is the last time Pascal is allowed to acquire your package, and he won't steal you away from him.

—I'm not planning to do so, Lenkov, it's just that pussy is so good, and I don't know how to quit it —he lies.

Lenkov smiles at him with an "I get it" expression before asking him for an obscene amount of money.

Pascal agrees to it, but only if he is allowed to have you for more time, for an entire year.

—A million, and it's a deal.

—But if she stays with me in London...

—She will be not allowed out of the apartment, I will place snipers, and if you try to trick me, I will slight her throat in front of you and then yours. A million and a half, and it's done.

Pascal pays for it.

He welcomes you to your new home with a glass of champagne.

—To the birthday girl.

—What?!

—Today is your birthday. According to your birth certificate, here, it's your gift.

—Is this real?! —tears fill your eyes. He nods, and then Pascal looks taken aback when you give him the warmest hug he has ever received.

He doesn't know what to do until he relaxes and hugs you back.

—I could sleep with you right now! —you say, and you quickly add by the shocked expression he gives you. —I'm joking! I'm kidding. Ah! I'm one year older than I thought! But how did you get this?!

—I have something to confess to you, and it's the reason why I moved you here with me —he sounds serious and looks stern; he hesitates before continuing.

You start thinking about the worst possible outcome. Here comes the part that goes bad for you.

—A few months ago, I made contact with Interpol.

—Oh, please, I'm, look, I, I rather not —you mumble and start to panic, fearing for your life.

—I see. I may die after this —Pascal lets out.

—You what?! —you panic.

—It doesn't matter. Yeah, it's better you stay out of it.

—If it threatens your life, then I'm in! —you sound so assured that he looks shocked.

—Why would you...? —he starts asking.

You jump in. —Risk my life for yours? Anyday! You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me —Pascal looks at you with an expression you cannot read.

—This guy I got in contact with has been pursuing Lenkov for some time and plotting his downfall.

—This guy?! Wasn't the Interpol?!

—Well, yes, he used to work for them...

—Oh god, how are you sure he is not setting you up and wh- —you panic again.

He calms you down and quickly explains. —He is the most annoying guy ever, but it's legit. He started his own organization and has the best of the best working for him, and that's why he moved the Lenkov case with him and left Interpol to work it on his own; it's personal to him.

—Have you met with him?

—Just on the phone, many, many times.

—I don't like this.

—I promise you he is legit and has resources. He was the one who got me your birth certificate. All he is asking from us in return is to act as a witness in case all goes well and we get Lenkov on trial.

—And what's in this for you? I'm sorry for judging you, but my life has taught me some lessons. You aren't in this just because you want my freedom, right?

—To whistleblow my father and expose his business with Lenkov, and make them both rot in prison.

—You are going to get us murdered!

Pascal starts worrying about you bailing out, judging your fear and panic.

He is getting ready to start working you out when you suddenly calm down.

—But what do I have to lose? This is no life, and if I can help to protect you, other girls, and boys and gain my freedom along the way, I will.

Lenkov sends people to check on you two occasionally without previous notice, trying to catch in any weird move and have an excuse to move you back with him.

It comes to his attention that according to the people he sends there, they never seem to interrupt you in sexual activities, enraging him.

You are cozy on the couch watching TV when Pascal's deep voice grabs your attention.

—Listen, whenever someone from my "dad's business," aka my job, comes here, or we aren't alone, no matter if it's the help service, I need you to play along and pretend we are in a sexual relationship. We need to keep appearances and have the word spread.

—Why? —you start feeling concerned. —Did something happen?

—Don't stress about it —he dismisses it. —Just so you know.

—Y/N, you are right. You are not being paranoid —you have been feeling observed by people looking from the building across for some days now. —Probably Lenkov moved some people to one of the apartments in front. They are watching us now.

Pascal pretends to enjoy a drink while looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows to the skyscraper in front of yours.

—Moving out is no option for us —you add, feeling nauseous. Months have passed since you started living peacefully with Pascal at this place you now call home.

—We need to engage more, then —he sounds grim.

—If we close the curtains but keep the lights on, maybe we could dry hump for them. Silhouettes may work.

—Have the men you have been with ever cared enough to close the curtains?

—No. I get it. It's going to look staged. They won't go away till they make sure.

He lets an exasperated sigh and smashes his glass on the floor.

You instinctively jump. —Listen, I have done it before, we could... —you go all red.

—No.

After several days of noticing him consumed by the situation's stress, you cross the distance between you and gift him your first kiss.

Obviously, it's not your first physical kiss, but the first one that feels real.

You kiss him all the way to the bedroom.

Where Pascal makes love to you in a missionary position, all flesh in full display and bodies moving in rhythm for them to witness.

After you cowgirl him, he takes you in doggy style till you cum from pleasure for the first time ever while moaning his name.

You completely forget that you were doing it for the men watching you at a distance, secretly shooting photos without you noticing before they have them printed and delivered to Lenkov.

There is a slight shift after that night.

The interactions between you two become more tender; there are more accidental touches and sweet looks, along with some cuddling, but nothing sexual ever happens again after the Lenkov people leave you alone.

Not even a kiss.

Three months later, as you grow impatient every day since you know your year agreement is near its end, Pascal informs you that this guy wants to implement the plan.

Next week, a massive raid on the Lenkov rabbit holes, properties, and security homes will occur. People are going to get arrested and youngsters rescued. You are on the list.

The difference with you is that you will immediately be moved to Belgium to the Little Heroes Global headquarters to testify and for them to prepare you for court.

It's a Wednesday morning, the first time you talk to this guy on the phone.

He sounds young, but his tone is too solemn. He informs you that Pascal was the critical piece he needed to deploy his long, elaborate plan; he and his team have spent years trying to get Lenkov.

Now that you have all the knowledge and information he needs to take him down, it is all good to go.

It's the first of many calls you two exchange, and you eventually become incredibly familiar with his voice.

The day that "Operation Lina" arrives, you are so nervous.

Everything is going according to the plan.

But then, as a lot of commotion happens outside your apartment door, Pascal bolts to his feet and places you behind his body, protecting you.

A SWAT team bursts in, knocking the door down. Pascal looks at you, confused at the violence, but you see him smile for the first time in all the time you have met him.

—That's the sound of your freedom —he addresses you, briefly resting his temple on yours. You want so desperately to kiss his lips.

Then the SWAT team moves quick on their feet, guns up to approach you, or that you think so.

Unexpectedly, they pinned Pascal in a violent move against the floor. He hits his head hard in the process.

—What are you doing!? —you start screaming and kicking as they push you out of the way. You go insane as they keep dragging him away from you. —LEAVE HIM YOU FUCKERS! You are hurting him! This wasn't part of the plan!

They yank him down the apartment entrance hallway, and you fight your way to follow along, demanding to know where they are taking him, screaming and kicking.

—PASCAL! —You are desperately calling for him at the top of your lungs.

When you feel a hand softly rub you on your shoulder, you turn around, expecting the worst, to see Lenkov standing there, so you violently remove the hand from you and, with all your force, push the guy against the hallway wall.

—Easy! Easy! —that familiar voice tells you. —He is going to be okay, I will make sure —a kid slightly older than you is standing before you, his beautiful blue eyes are set on you.

—Are you!? —you let out in barely a whisper. You can't believe your eyes; he can't be that young!

—Yes —he starts fixing himself. —You are strong. Mathew De Vos —he offers you his hand.

—Why the fuck are you betraying him like that?! —you start immediately fighting with him, which, funny enough, becomes a habit for you two.

—I'm not! Listen, in one of the raids inside of one of Lenkov's drawers at his office desk, there were photos of you and Pascal, you know, explicitly engaging in some illegal acts.

—But that's not! He didn't ra-! I consent to it, AND it was just because Lenvok people were watching us ove-

—I believe you. I'm not happy to lose one of my biggest witnesses, but it's still a crime. Due to cooperation, we can offer him a good deal, so Pascal will be alright, I promise you.

—How do I know I can trust you?!

—I'm here, as I promised I will. Let's go. The quicker we get this done, the faster you will win back your freedom!

Days later, Mat informs you he moved his influences to get a particular trial for Pascal and that he ended up with just domestic arrest in Budapest, ankle monitor and all.

But that you won't be able to see him, probably ever again. You are only allowed to talk to him on the phone.

Lenkov corrupts his way out of the situation. To both your fury, you have never seen a man so furious as Mathew that day; you almost felt like running away from him as soon as possible, but this unexpected outcome forces you into a witness protection program.

Mathew offers you a place to stay until things get sorted out, a stay that will last for years to come.

—The obvious aside, duh, why did Mathew want to take Lenkov down? —Seb asks, his voice husky.

It's cold and late at night, around 5 a.m., and by this point of the story, you are already wrapped around Seb's arms, sharing the soft blanket on the couch as he plays nervously with your golden bracelet.

Seb has remained empathic and supportive, listening to your life story.

—Mat got scarred by that same man. Victor, Mat's father, was just solidifying "Heroes Global" after building it to protect minors, legally advise victims and their families, and help intelligence agencies dismantle traffic rings when he was the first person to discover the real business behind Lenkov's legal facades—you explain. Seb's eyebrows go to the roof, and his eyes look sad.

—As Mat was dealing with becoming an orphan, his team found out the helicopter crash that killed his parents, well, his dad mostly, wasn't an accident. Mathew's mom has been in a coma for years with no hope of recovering, but she is still with us, thank God.

—Are you a believer?

—Yes. God sent Mat to me. He means the world to me, Seb. He really does, even with all that implies. It's the only family I have. Even in our worst moments, I have never not loved him. He gave me a chance and a better life than I had ever imagined.

—It's good to know —Mat's voice takes you both by surprise, making you un-cuddle and turn to him. He walks inside the room before standing before you, hands inside his soft pajama bottoms, shirtless.

—Where did those abs come from, ancient Greece? —Seb can't help but peek as he jokes. He looks good.

As soon as I found out Lenkov did it and what he really was, I took the basis of Heroes Global and founded Little Heroes Global, working with Interpol. Did you know, Sebastian Vettel, that this girl right here is the foundation's vice president? he asks in the voice of a quiz host while pointing at you.

—I begged Mat to let me stay and work with them as soon as I was freed, I wanted to help others, but I was an illegal here in Belgium, with no papers and in need of a citizen permit and a passport.

—Also under age —Matt adds. So, I wasn't able to marry her to fix all of that thing at once, but as soon as we could, we did, I stayed true to my word of taking care of her.

—It wasn't a romantic or traditional wedding —you explain.

—Just transactional, sign here, sign this, sign there —Mat adds.

—Do you ever?

—Yes —you both answer at the same time.

Dead silence.

—But you two need to go to bed, to sleep, I mean. On another occasion, Y/N may tell you all about us; I prefer my version, though. Feel free to stay over Vettel. Just respect my roof —he winks before leaving, implying to be discreet with sex if there is to be.

Sebastian goes all red. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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zhongliologist · 9 months ago

Text

If All is Lost, What Then?

Pairing: Aventurine x fem!reader Genre: SMUT (18+) Words: 5.9k Sypnosis: If all hope you had was lost, what then? You sought a certain gambler for a specific need and purpose. You don't know how it will end up, yet it's not like it matters. It was all transactional anyway, and you'd get what you want. But what you haven't considered was how fate works in inexplicable ways. Warnings: implied suicidal tendencies, loss of virginity, creampie, self-destruction A/N: Hi! this is the promised Aventurine fic! It may be a little heavy, any I didn't go into the specifics so everything is a little vague. But I do plan for this to be part of a larger story! Everything will probably be explain there! Please pray tho that I finish that one...

THIS IS AN 18+ FIC. BY CLICKING THE READ MORE BUTTON, YOU HAVE UNDERSTOOD AND ACCEPTED THAT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AND LIABLE FOR THE DECISION YOU MADE.

The night was young in the golden district.

The lights, the laughter and the silent laments of its numerous guests and residents encompass the gilded capital of the Corporation. As if they had all gathered there at a single point where all the greed, the glamor and the glib were all contained in a single drop. And the planet’s skies seem to glow in response, its dark purple-red hues become a tantalizing backdrop against the shimmering visage of the city underneath.

If Penacony was too far of a dream for the mundane and the ordinary, Pier Point would come close to second in the list of places to create superficial dreams, waste money and shatter futures. Unlike the planet of festivities however, Pier Point does not dwell with pretentious marketing--the fact that it is the headquarters of the most lucrative business in the cosmos is enough to gather personalities attracted to power and wealth like moths to a flame.

And that sort of reputation was the reason why you were there. It didn’t care who you were as long as you had a pretty penny on your name, and you had a lot of it. Your clothes seem to reflect this casual display of wealth--not too ostentatious to be deemed a wannabe nor too ordinary to be looked down on. A black silk dress draped over your body like some forlorn goddess of some faraway planet and adorned by miniscule gold chains which accentuate your neck and framed your face in sultry perfection. It was simple yet elegant.

Despite its beauty, your clothes felt like armor against your skin--an efficiently calculated strategy, a means to an end. You were no different than the people who pollute the alleyways of Pier Point, searching for something, anything the city could give in exchange for credits.

Paying for a cab to take you to the more lavish parts of the city, the scenery gradually transitioned from grimy streets to immaculately trimmed lawns and dimly lit hotel lobbies. You almost scoffed at the gradation. Leave it to the IPC to visually demonstrate a massive wealth gap.

Yet you shook your head at the thought. Tonight you didn’t care and you didn't think. Thoughts become spiraling steps towards the dark depths of your being, and you didn’t want to go there again. Right now, you have to do everything you can just to keep your head above the waves.

Your ride casually dropped you in front of a formidable-looking façade. Its massive brutalist columns and large windows seem to reflect the concept of the Preservation--the patron saint of the IPC. But there were various iterations of what the Aeon Qlipoth represents, and you were sure Pier Point, and therefore, the IPC represented the gluttonous and selfish need for safety and stability. Yet this building seemed out of place, even reminding you of Jarilo-VI architecture, a different variation of the same path. It would have sparked your curiosity on any normal day, yet your spirit was exhausted, down and beaten. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask why.

Amber Gardens: Hotel and Casino. You smiled as you climbed the concrete steps. How fitting.

The ongoing party was your target. Just like many parties in Pier Point, it attracted the right people you needed, and they will not consider refusing your request. For the next few moments, you sat at the bar in the hotel lobby, sipping a sallow-hued cocktail which seemed to taste faintly of vanilla and lemon drops. It was a much-needed remedy to numb your frayed nerves and to silence dark imaginings. As you drank the bubbling liquid, it burned the stubborn demons still lingering in your thoughts, washed away by the alcohol as easily as the tide. What was left was an impulsive drive strong enough to leave everything you built burning and wasted.

It was no question if what you had in mind will succeed or not. The fish will take a bite no matter what, you mused. Much to your surprise however, it didn’t take that long for something to come back reeling. Who would’ve thought the fish was that eager to take the bet?

“Look who’s wandered around here.” A drawl echoed beside your ear, too close in fact that it almost made you jerk away.

“I expected a warmer welcome, Senior Manager,” you replied with an arched brow and a jaded look which was only responded with a light chuckle.

You gave him an immediate once over. He was the same as ever--still extravagant, still cocky and still as handsome as ever. He may have donned a simpler white suit over a teal dress shirt now, yet everything from his shades to his accessories screamed he had money to waste. You could only grimace at his wardrobe choice.

As a senior manager of the IPC, Aventurine was talented in doing business, yet to him, that business seemed to look more like a game of poker than anything. You had initially met him at a random work-related function, similar to the party you had tonight, and you were right to assume that he was every bit crazy. In any normal day, you wouldn’t dare approach him for your wellbeing, yet tonight, you needed that devil-may-care attitude to lay everything to waste.

“So? What brings you here, little miss--“

“Y/N. Right now, I’m just Y/N.” You interrupted, eyes daring him to challenge you.

Aventurine hummed at your sudden interjection. Interesting.

There was something different about you tonight--a little derailed and out of bounds. Aventurine always had a keen eye on these things, it helps with the gambling, and he could immediately tell that you are in need of something. You who always seemed so put-together, so full of promise, so unlike him…yet right now, you look like you were only held together by one piece of string, and if snaps, who could tell what will become of you.

“You didn’t come here just to taste some drinks, did you?” he asked with a sly smile, nothing betraying the tone of his voice. “Can I help you with something?”

You leaned your head to the side, allowing him a view of your bare neck adorned with glimmering gold chains underneath the dim lights of the bar.

“You could say I’m in need of something only you could give.”

“Oh?” he grinned, his bright eyes shining even through the cover of his shades, as his fingers began to trace yours on the champagne flute you were holding. Without you going into details, he could already tell what it is you wanted. It’s not a bad trade-off, in fact, he might actually gain something here.

“Are you sure though? Once it’s done, you can’t do anything about it.”

You didn’t try to move your hand away. Instead you allowed him to play with you, teasing your fingers with light touches.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you replied. “I have nothing else to lose.”

Aventurine smiled at your now intertwined pinkies. “I admit, hearing you say those words gave me a little shiver.”

You smirked. “Do they suit me?”

Aventurine chuckled, removing his shades and placing them on the table. “Never in my wildest dream did I imagine you’d approach me like this, but…”

Leaning towards you, he easily seized your hand and entangled his fingers on yours. “I would be a fool to leave you like this.”

Without even waiting for you to respond, he then brought your hand to his lips, gently kissing the back of your hand as a romantic gesture. At that moment, you realized how effortlessly he could enchant anyone he wishes. It scared you for a moment, but Aventurine was exactly the man you were looking for. Even with fatigue and apathy seeping through your bones, he made your frigid heart skip a beat with no trouble at all.

“You sure have a talent for this…” you muttered mindlessly, earning a smile from the blond gambler.

“Isn’t that why you approached me in the first place?” He replied as he stood up and offered a hand to you. “C’mon. Why don’t we continue this in a more private space?”

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it to happen like this.

It was so easy for Aventurine to set every vein in your body ablaze with simple nips and bites, so easy to set shivers down your spine at every slight and wanton touch. You could only cling to him for dear life as he ravished you against a wall of a dimly-lit hotel room.

“Is this…what you had in mind, YN?” he asked, smirking as he assaulted your neck with kisses.

“I--nggh!”

It was already impossible to reply at that point. You, who was never held like this before felt incredibly overstimulated; each touch foreign and arousing. It was like having a taste of drugs for the first time, and you were easily becoming addicted to the novel pleasures he was introducing you to.

“Come on, princess,” he teased, as he enjoyed tracing his lips on your bare neck and shoulders. “Is this all you can handle? We haven’t even started yet.”

“Aven…turine…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

He could barely manage to control himself, yet here he was saying things. Your half-lidded eyes, your wonderful curves draped over by messy clothes, and your sweet, sweet sighs whispering his name as if in prayer--it was as if everything about you was made to arouse him. Aventurine already had his fair share of sexual partners yet something about you made him feel like it was the first time.

He brushed his cold fingers against your ear, making you squirm so adorably. It was so easy to tease you—he could plant kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose—and you reacted just enough to make him want to bully you.

Oh, Aventurine…you got lucky once again.

“Y-You…stop playing with me…!” you scolded him, brows furrowed and frown deepening.

“How can’t I?” Aventurine chuckled. “You’re so cute.”

“Ughh…flattery will get you nowhere…”

He laughed again, but this time, his swift fingers effortlessly divested you of your dress, allowing it to pool at your feet. Immediately, you squealed and tried to cover your now almost-naked body with minimal success.

“Is this funny to you?!”

Seething, you glared at him despite how flushed your cheeks were. What made you more annoyed was when he thought of lifting your chin with a finger, and leaned close; just stopping short of kissing you.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” he asked with a grin.

“…ugh,” you scowled further, but refused to say anything more. It seemed to have amused Aventurine further.

“Sorry, I won’t tease you anymore,” he conceded with a defeated smile, brushing a thumb on your lips.

In that moment, the both of you stared in silence; waiting for a beat to pass by. You finally had the chance to explore those deeply vibrant eyes he usually kept covered, and in those depths you have found no light—like an ocean with neither sun nor moon. How ironic, you thought. A person who seemed to flash and gleam like a jewel actually had no light of his own. In those brief moments, the playful mood had died down, only to unravel a somber truth that the both of you may perhaps be in need of the same thing.

“...kiss me, Aventurine,” you dared, coming out as a low growl.

Again, the blond only smiled at you solemnly. He held your cheeks with both hands; so gentle that you almost thought he was holding his lover.

“I’m not that cruel,” he replied, leaving kisses all over your face except your lips. “Let someone kiss you out of love, not out of desperation.”

Ah. You smiled bitterly.

“Alright, I understand,” you replied, your fingers clinging to his arm. “Just…help me forget all of it.”

“Don’t worry, princess. I never disappoint.”

With those words, Aventurine pushed you back to the wall, pinning you so you can't escape while returning his lips to your neck and collarbone. Everything after that felt like a flurry of bodies moving against each other, of lips exploring every nook and cranny, of hands caressing each curve and dip. In the process, he had divested of his shirt together with your underwear.

He refused to take your first kiss, but Aeons…did he take everything he could. At this point, you were leaning against the wall while he was kneeling in front of you, arms circled around your thighs to keep you from moving. You were so dazed, your brain unable to keep up with his relentless ministrations.

“W-What are you…”

“Just stay still, princess. I’ll show you a good time.”

Suddenly, Aventurine buried his face at the apex of your thighs, taking a swipe at your already drenched cunt. He kept at it mercilessly, stimulating your sensitive nub until your knees felt weak and you had to hold on to his shoulders to keep you from falling. It was a totally novel sensation—you never thought it would feel this way, not in your wildest imagination. Even though you had played with yourself numerous times, someone eating you out was definitely something else.

“A-ahh…w-wait! Aven..turine…!”

The stimulation was too strong, and you were scared where you’ll end up if he doesn’t stop now. However, it seems Aventurine had no intention of stopping even though your hands were pulling on his hair. The pain, the sweet taste of your juices, plus the sound of you screaming seemed to only make his pants tighter.

“F-fuck…! I can’t…!”

He always thought there was something innocent about you, even during such dirty acts; and he can’t help himself from bullying you further. So even though you were screaming for him to stop, he only slipped his tongue further into your hole, as his nose brushed against your clit. Your subsequent sobs made all of it worth it.

“Hnghh…!! I c-can’t hold it…Aventurine…p-please!”

You could hardly keep your eyes open anymore. The stimulation was too much that you were already seeing stars. Every time he would press a thumb on your clit, an electric shock would shoot right up your spine, winding you up right until you were at the brink of climax.

“Don’t hold back, princess.”

The rumble of his voice plus a flick of his tongue on your clit were all you needed to come tumbling down; moaning his name over and over again as your body shook and quaked. You have never experienced an orgasm like that in your whole life—so if this was what it felt like when he was only eating you out, what more would it feel like if he was buried inside you to the hilt, filling you to the brim with his cum?

In Aventurine’s eyes, there was no better view than watching you come, all flushed and shaking, while he was squeezed between your plush and soft thighs. If the Aeons permit, he’d love to spend hours just down there pleasuring you over and over again until you pass out.

But that was a thought for another day. For the meantime, Aventurine released you from his confines and caught you in his arms before you fell to the carpeted floor. Even through the mists of post-orgasm, you were entranced by his bright eyes as if they were beckoning you closer. And you nonetheless allowed yourself to be enthralled—kissing his stained cheeks; kissing him anywhere and everywhere you could reach.

And even your kisses seemed so innocent, he thought. An awful guy like him who had taken advantage of you during your moment of weakness does not deserve such kisses. Yet, even though racked by guilt, he couldn’t stop you nor himself. Perhaps he should think like you, pretending this was something fated, something deserved. For tonight, you were lovers.

“Hey…um…” you suddenly pulled him out of his reverie. “I want to…return the favor. Can you…um…teach me how?”

Aventurine was almost too stunned to speak, but he thanked his wit for being able to recover as quickly. Seems like he has chewed more than he could swallow.

“You don’t need to, princess,” he smiled, once again cupping your cheek and brushing a finger on your lips, imagining what dangerous things these lips could do to him. “The pleasure was all mine.”

“No…you don’t understand. I want to…uh…learn how to do it, so to speak…”

He signed internally. Who would have thought little miss Y/N could do this much damage to him? Who knew that cold and frigid little you could affect him so much?

“Then who am I to say no?” he replied with an easy smile. “Let’s start by going on your knees.”

Immediately, you did as you were told. Like an obedient student, Aventurine thought. You were never going to make this easier for his self-control, will you?

The sight of you kneeling, looking at him so innocently did wonders to his brain. It was as if he had stumbled into a power trip—if he wasn’t careful, he’d scare you for life. At the same time, he wasn’t keen on stopping. It was already too late to stop.

“What a good girl,” he remarked absentmindedly, placing a thumb on your lips. He closely watched his thumb press and prod your soft and plush lips, thinking how it would feel around his cock. He thought of you looking at him in anticipation, these lips pressed on the tip of his shaft. He shivered.

Finally, pushing beyond, his thumb was only greeted by your warm tongue.

“That’s right. Imagine it’s my dick. Use your tongue. Suck it, play with it…lick as much as you want.”

You followed his instructions down to the dot. Everything he asks of you, you did perfectly and diligently. Considering who you are, it would be embarrassing to be accused of not following instructions, wouldn’t it?

“Seems like you have an aptitude for this,” he snickered. “Not that I’m surprised.”

In no time, he had three fingers in your mouth—nudging and playing with your tongue, mesmerized by how you wrapped around him. Aventurine couldn’t help but think of his cock in your mouth as you bobbed your head up and down just like how you did with his fingers. He’d bet your mouth would be so warm and tight; he’d come right away.

“Am I doing good?” you asked as you looked up at him, voice muffled by his fingers.

Fuck…

You might’ve not noticed but Aventurine was close to imploding. The naive look on your eyes, your flushed cheeks and how erotic your tongue was wrapped around his fingers—everything about you seemed to be designed to break his self control. He doesn’t fuck like an animal, but Aeons forbid he might as well if you were going to be like this.

“Alright. That’s enough. I think you’re ready,” he pulled out his fingers from your lips and licked them, tasting you as he gazed right into your eyes.

The effect was instantaneous. You shivered in anticipation as you took a nervous gulp. You never imagined anyone would look so sexy while licking their own fingers, but here you were, flushed and bothered. Your core was already drenched since earlier—your sticky juices dripping down your thighs to your legs.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his belt unbuckling. Once again, anticipation exploded in your gut and made your heart race. You never imagined you’d do something like this, but here you were. Watching as he unzipped his pants, he finally took out his hard cock from its confines. Eyes widening in surprise as you realized how big and hard he was, you suddenly weren’t sure he’d fit in your mouth. Practicing with his fingers seemed like a huge understatement.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he reassured you with a grin on his lips, cupping your cheeks once again. “I’ll be sure to help you out.”

Aventurine then held his hand out to you, which you took immediately.

“Now, I want you to hold me,” he told you, as he placed your hand on the base of his cock. You could feel your heartbeat on your throat, waiting patiently for further instructions.

“You can lick me just like you did with my fingers,” he said, fingers lifting your chin up. “You can take me in nice and slow. I’ll be patient.”

Ignoring the thunderous sound of your heart racing, you tentatively licked the tip of his cock, watching his every reaction with such attention. With every moment passing, you gradually became bolder and more excited, until you earned a growl from Aventurine after swiping your tongue from the base to the tip.

“Hey, easy there, princess,” he chuckled with bated breath. “You’ll make me come in no time.”

For some reason, his breathy groans encouraged you further. There was something so addictive and so enthralling to the sound of his sultry voice, which made you want to please him more. Every time you would trace a vein with your tongue or whenever you suck on his tip, he would hold your hair tightly and try to resist the urge to climax so early.

If Aventurine was honest, he could tell it was really your first time. You were sloppy and slow, and there were times he thought you were teasing him by not going any further. But inexplicably, he was so hot and bothered at that moment. His cheeks were flushed and heated and that certain look on your face whenever you glance up to him for validation could easily snap his sanity into two.

Perhaps it was because he had never expected this side of you. The contrast between your regular self and the you right now was massive, and that certainly had a different appeal in and of itself. The image of you sucking him off, mouth full of his dick will definitely be etched into his mind forever. Whether or not this will happen again, who knows? But he definitely landed on a jackpot once again.

You admit this wild and bothered look on him was something you loved, partly because of how carelessly handsome he is, partly because this was your own doing. You made him become like this, and perhaps you could get him to give you more. Finally gathering the courage, you took him to the hilt, filling your mouth and throat; surprising him with the sensation.

“S-shit…! Y/N!”

Choking out a cry, Aventurine pushed you away and scooped you up over his shoulder. Something definitely snapped in him, you recalled thinking as he tossed you ungracefully to the nearby bed and pinning you on the spot between his legs.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a menace?” He chuckled darkly, brushing his messy blond hair with his fingers. “You see, I don’t want to come in your mouth first thing tonight. Rather, I’d like to make a mess here…”

Spreading your legs wide, Aventurine pressed a finger on your wet and sensitive clit, making you cling to the sheets instantly. He easily turned you into a screaming, sobbing mess with his fingers rubbing your drenched folds.

“A-aven…mmnh!! W-wait…ah—!”

The blond didn’t allow for any rest as he smoothly inserted two fingers inside, rubbing your gummy walls until you had trouble spreading your legs. You had no time to think, no time to ruminate on what was happening to you. Aventurine was relentless in his assault, sending waves upon waves of pleasure from your lower part towards the rest of your body. You could hardly keep your eyes open at how intense his fingers were, both attacking your pleasure point and your clit.

It feels good…! It feels so fucking good…

Aventurine chuckled; his eyes almost glowing. “So pretty…my pretty little slut. Are you going to come? Here, let me help you.”

Without stopping his fingers, he leaned forward and started circling his hot tongue around your nipple. He nipped and bit at your soft and supple flesh yet he refused to give you any respite.

“N-no…no…it’s too much! I’m going to…!”

Knowing you were close, he suddenly bit your nipple and pushed his against your g-spot at the same time. Of course, you shuddered and screamed his name as you fell down the peak of your climax. He could only grin at your messy and enthused form, with your thighs drenched with your own juices, your lips stained with drool and tears and your skin littered by marks of his own creation. However, that wasn’t enough. Not enough at all.

“Who would’ve thought this was your first time?” he remarked, fishing out a condom from his pants.

“W-wait…!” you manage in between breaths. “You…don’t have to…I-I came prepared…”

Arching a brow at you, the blond was greatly amused at how far you’d take all of this. “So you really came for the whole experience, huh? My princess is rather diligent.”

Placing himself between your legs, Aventurine began to rub his hard cock on your folds, lathering his shaft with your own juices. On the occasion of his tip brushing against your clit, you would beg and sob for him—unsure if you want to continue, but missing his presence when he decides to pull away.

“A-Aventurine….wait! I just came…nghh!! P-please…!”

“Isn’t this what you asked for, princess?” he taunted, threatening to enter you but suddenly slipping away. “I’m going to fuck you now, are you ready?”

It was the million dollar question; the whole point of tonight. Everything about this encounter was out of desperation and there was definitely no turning back, yet in the end, does it even matter?

Without hesitation, you nodded your head, and repeated your words. “Just help me forget…”

Aventurine scoffed. “Don’t worry. You won’t be able to think of anything but me.”

Not waiting for a reply, Aventurine slowly inserted his cock in you, careful not to be too harsh. You anticipated the pressure, yet you seemed to have grossly underestimated how full you’ll feel as he gently pushed in and out. It was totally different and definitely overwhelming. If he hadn’t made you come twice, you’d probably be crying out in pain now. Leaning over, the blond attempted to distract you from the uncomfortable feeling by assaulting your neck and chest, leaving more love bites in his wake. Finally, with much effort, Aventurine was now fully inside you, yet he still waited for you to get accustomed to his size before doing anything.

“How does it feel?” he asked in a low voice as he bit and licked the underside of your ear.

“Hnnghh….I feel so full,” you managed to reply even though you were breathless. “You’re so big, Aventurine…”

“Here, hold me,” he offered as he directed your arms to circle around his neck. “Just relax.”

You never imagined Aventurine to have this side of him. Even though you could tell he was trying to resist the urge to move, he was being gentle and patient with you. It was as if he was concerned you’d be in pain rather than chasing his own high. It might’ve moved your frigid heart for a moment.

“I…I think I’m fine now…” you finally told him as the discomfort toned down. “Please make me feel good…”

“Anything for you, princess,” he chuckled, nuzzling on your neck as he steadily picked up his pace.

Thank the Aeons you finally allowed him to move. He was almost at his wits’ end, as he struggled to keep himself calm while wrapped around by your warm and tight walls. Even as he gently rocked back and forth inside you, the only thing keeping himself from coming was how he distracted himself with pleasuring you. Amusingly, he also wondered why he was acting like this was his first time.

“Oh god…there! A-ahh! Harder please!” you screamed beside his ear, your hands brushing through his hair at the nape.

“You dirty girl…” he grumbled, thrusting sharply into you. Noticing how you both had finally settled on a rhythm, Aventurine decided to switch positions—now leaning back and holding your hips as he rammed ruthlessly into you.

You immediately saw stars every time his cock pushed against the sensitive spot inside of you, arching your back at the intensity of the pleasure. This was different, so different from the other kinds of pleasures he had shown you tonight. This was primal, this was true and actual mating. You could feel him thrust against the entrance of your womb, intent to fill you up with his cum.

“F-fuck…” he whispered, sensing the closeness of his climax. He could only endure so much, but of course, if he’s going down, you’re going down with him too.

With his thumb, Aventurine began to stimulate your sensitive nub again, rubbing and flicking it, and enjoying your wild screams. The room was filled with your filthy noises—your sobs and cries, his cursing and growls and the sound of skin slapping against skin. It was dirty and obscene, and something you’d remember forever.

“N-No! I’m…coming…a-ahh! Aven…I’m…!”

“Y-yes, come with me, princess. I’ll fill you up with my cum…”

You could feel his movements become erratic, an indication that he was close. You, on the other hand, was no different. Your head was filled with electrifying shocks of pleasure as he drove into you over and over again. You could feel yourself teetering close to your climax, as you begged him to fill you up over and over again.

Finally, in one sharp thrust, both you and Aventurine came. You shook, shivered and screamed as you felt his warmth fill you inside; tightening around him as you continued to ride out your orgasm. Meanwhile, he toppled above you, kissing your face over and over as if in a delirium. He then continued down your jaw, worshipping everywhere his lips could land on except on yours.

“Fuck…” he growled, pushing his still hard cock in you. “Can we do it again?”

It wasn’t everyday that he was this insatiable. He couldn’t understand why but something about you drove him feral, as if he had to breed you several times to feel satisfied. He couldn’t understand where this possiveness came from, but he wanted you so much that it ails him not to hold you.

“W-wait…!” you rasped, arching your back as he once again descended on one of your breasts. “I just c-came…please…”

Aventurine sat back up, watching you as you tried to regain your breath. He could feel his cum inside you, almost dripping out of you, and the thought seemed to entice him to keep you pressed against him.

Lifting you up without pulling out, he turned you around. You landed on all fours as he unrelentingly continued to leave marks from your neck down to your back. You could feel his tongue tracing your spine as he descended down, while his cock continued to go in and out of you.

“A-Aven…turine…! A-ah fuck…!” you cried out, unable to do anything but enjoy what he has to give you.

You honestly felt like you couldn’t come anymore yet the mixture of pain and pleasure was so enthralling that you had to continue. You wanted to be driven up to deliriousness and insanity further, you wanted to know up to what limits he could take you.

Unlike the first time, this round was the purest form of fucking. The both of you were trapped in a haze of lust, unable to stop yourselves from yearning for each other. He was rough and feral, as if he had only one last chance to do whatever he wanted with you, and you allowed it. After all, this was the kind of sex you were asking for—a sex so mind-numbing you stopped thinking altogether. All that mattered was the chase for pleasure and the final thunderous climax.

“Oh Aeons…you feel so good, princess. I don’t want to stop…” he growled as he seized both your wrists and thrusted from the back, roughly going in and out of your hole until his cum began dripping out.

“Please…harder!” you begged, “Fuck me harder…Aventurine…!”

He chuckled in between low grunts. “What a dirty little princess…I’ll make sure you’ll never forget tonight…”

Right when you were so close, Aventurine pulled you to his lap facing him, his cock sinking into you and reaching even deeper places than before. His grip on your hips were bruising as he jerked into you sharply. His mouth was once again on your pulse point, and snaking towards the crook of your neck and then your jaw—if he can’t have your lips, might as well have everything else.

“A-Aventurine…!”

As you moaned out his name, he glanced at you and watched as your face contorted in pleasure, memorizing how you looked in case he will never have the chance again. At that moment, both your lust-laden eyes met and locked both you in place, capturing you in an inescapable spell. Even as he continued to bounce you on top of him, your gazes never wavered.

“Oh Aeons…I want to kiss you so badly…” he growled, eyes half-lidded and lips just a hair’s away from yours.

“Then kiss me…I want you to kiss me…p-please…” you pleaded in desperation.

Yet he only smiled at you somberly.

He wanted this to be real. He wanted to see you, to spend time with you again, not only just for tonight. Yet at the same time, Aventurine knew that if he gave you everything, you’d really have nothing else left to hold you back. He knew why you came to him tonight, why you wanted him to take your first time. He could see it in your eyes—the despair and the hopelessness, and how you didn’t care anymore. But he does, against his better judgement. He does, because he sees that same hopelessness reflected in his own eyes. So even if he wanted to taste those sweet lips now, he'd hold off.

“Focus, princess,” he ordered, thrusting into your g-spot to numb your head.

To distract you, he pinched your clit and relentlessly pounded into you. He knew that was any easy ticket to your orgasm, though he was not spared. Your walls would tighten like a vice around him whenever you were close, and he himself couldn’t hold off that long.

With all his ministrations going on at the same time, you could no longer think about anything except your pleasure and how you were so close. But in one stroke against your sensitive spot, Aventurine had you coming down from your high in a disastrous tumble, with you shaking on his laps as you squirted on him. He followed soon after, unable to deny himself any longer. Ropes of cum filled you once again, savoring a feeling of warmth in your womb as you teetered at the edge of consciousness. The last thing you remembered was the sensation of his lips on your forehead, bidding you good night and promising to clean up after you.

By the time you woke up, you could see slits of light peeking from the heavy curtains. You were definitely clean as promised, but now you were alone. Of course you were. It was a transaction after all.

Cursing at how sore you felt, you spotted a note on the nightstand as you moved to stand up. You could only chuckle after reading.

Ask me to kiss you if we meet again. -A

P.S. I’ll treat you to dinner if you do.

#honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail

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