#without fucking phone reception

[dorothywonderland]

Great wind God, aeolus I don't know if you know this But our path to home is blocked by an impenetrable storm

Trying some character design for epic the musical, first up is my boy aeolus. Wanted something simple overall so the "hair" can be the main attraction, might change a thing or two

[helioooss]

normalcy

synopsis: after getting fired from your job, you somehow set yourself up to become the personal bodyguard of asia’s it girl; minatozaki sana. the contract said 6 months…but they do say opposites attract…right?

w/c: 7k+

warnings: fluff, kissing, minor violent scene with injuries involved, etc. etc. like always, read at your own risk

a/n: honestly? i really enjoyed writing this but ive read it so many times that i just want it off my drafts

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sharp glow of the gym lights flickered, illuminating the worn pages of ‘the trial’ by kafka. you closed the book with a sigh, feeling the weight of your plight settle into your thoughts. reading was slowly becoming your balm, your silent rebellion against the monotony of life.

today, though, was worst than routine. today was about fists and consequences.

it was meant to be another uneventful shift, the kind you’d become numb to over the months — wiping down benches, checking in with regulars, occasionally offering form corrections to those who were willing to listen. your black work polo, embroidered with the gym’s logo, was slightly faded from too many washes and the familiar scent of rubber flooring and sweat clung to the air.

you knew the place inside out, even if you never quite felt at home here.

as you heaved another sigh at the reception desk, you noticed a commotion near the squat racks. a woman in leggings and a loose tank top stood, flustered, her face a mix of anger and embarrassment.

across from her, a man had his phone angled at an obvious tilt, his thumb suspiciously poised over the screen.

“is there a problem?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even as you approached. you were used to minor disputes, arguments over who got the next set, someone hogging the water fountain; but this was different.

the woman’s eyes darted to you, desperate. “he’s taking pictures of me,” she said, her voice low but urgent. “without my permission.”

“oh, come on,” the man scoffed, tucking his phone into his pocket. he was the type you’d seen too many times — overconfident, built just enough to look intimidating, but his demeanor screamed entitlement. “it’s a public space. besides, you should be flattered.”

you clenched your jaw. you weren’t particularly confrontational, but something snapped inside you at the casual dismissal. maybe it was the way the woman seemed to shrink under his gaze, or perhaps it was the months of barely restrained frustration you’d been bottling up.

“delete the photos,” you demanded, stepping closer.

he smirked, a slow, mocking curl of his lips. “or what?”

you weren’t sure when your fist clenched or when you decided that words wouldn’t be enough. all you remembered was the flash of anger, the way your knuckles collided with his jaw and the shock on his face as he staggered back.

the gym fell silent, all eyes on you.

“what the hell?” he shouted, clutching his face as he sat up on the floor.

you felt a pang of panic, but it was drowned out by a strange sense of satisfaction. “don’t do that ever again.”

the woman mouthed a silent “thank you,” but the damage was done. within minutes, your manager, kyle, a man who was perpetually stressed and underpaid, was rushing over and pulled you aside.

“you can’t just hit customers, y/n,” he said, his voice barely masking his disbelief.

“he was fucking taking photos of her without consent!” you insisted, hands still shaking with adrenaline.

“i get that, he’ll be banned and a police report will be made, but we have procedures,” he responded, as if a robot, rubbing his temples. “this isn’t how we handle things.”

“so what? we just let guys like him get away with it?” you shot back, already knowing how this conversation would end. “fucking unreal.”

“he’s already threatening to sue if i don’t fire you,” he answered, with a sigh this time. he was just sick of it as you. “i’m letting you go, effective immediately. i’ll have your final check ready tomorrow.”

“yeah alright,” you clenched your jaw, turning to pick up the rest of your things off the desk. “i hope all of you pricks who just stood by and watched this woman get assaulted never have daughters!”

when you left the gym with a hard slam on the door, you had your head held high, but by the time you reached your shared apartment…reality hit hard. you were unemployed, with bills stacking up and a sense of failure settling in the pit of your stomach.

jeongyeon and dahyun, your housemates, were already home; slumped on the couch after a long day of security work.

you all met in university and from then on, you’d been stuck together. of course, the degrees you had didn’t line up with your careers now, nonetheless, you were all happy.

you think.

jeongyeon had a beer in hand, while dahyun was half-asleep, scrolling through her phone as her eyes blinked slowly.

“hey,” you said quietly, dropping your bag by the door before shutting the door behind you.

“rough day?” jeongyeon asked, looking you up and down; hair disheveled and a huge rbf plastered on your face. she had a way of reading your mood with unnerving accuracy.

“i got fired,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, flopping onto the armchair as you ran your fingers through your hair.

dahyun perked up, suddenly alive. “no way,” she added, nearly falling over her own alertness. “what happened?”

you recounted the whole story; the boring shift, the spoiled boxers in the showers and the creep —each detail bringing a mix of disbelief and amusement to their faces.

“that sounds like a bitch of a day, but you punched him?” jeongyeon asked, eyes wide. “damn, y/n. i mean, that’s kind of badass, but also not great.”

“i know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “but he deserved it.”

“well, it’s not like you were planning to stay there forever,” dahyun offered, trying to sound optimistic. “but we should find you something soon. rent’s due soon.”

“hmm,” you frowned, thinking about all the bills you had to catch up on. soon enough, you wouldn’t be able to afford a bottle of soju. “yeah, that was really impulsive of me.”

jeongyeon’s face lit up suddenly. “actually, i might have something. it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s really decent money.”

you raised an eyebrow. “what is it?”

“a security job,” she explained. “it’s temporary, six months. i was supposed to take it, but i just got offered a permanent managerial role at my current gig, so i can’t do both.”

“what’s the catch?” you asked, sensing a hesitation in her voice. “i know you’d be taking it if it was really good money.”

“it’s not a typical security job,” jeongyeon admitted. “you’d be a personal bodyguard, and i can’t do that shit, y’know? the background check is really tedious but i’d do it for the money.”

“okay, shut up,” dahyun leaned forward, intrigued. “who is this for?”

“minatozaki sana,” jeongyeon said, her tone dropping to a whisper, as if saying the name too loudly would summon the heiress herself.

you blinked, unsure if you heard correctly. “wait…the minatozaki sana? heiress sana?”

“yep,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her beer. “the nepo baby herself. her old guard retired, and they need a temporary bodyguard ‘cause she can’t keep one for more than a year. i know it sounds crazy, but the pay is amazing and it’s only for six months.”

the minatozaki family was a powerful one in asia; they had their names on everything — from the phones you use to the planes that you ride. they were the definition of old money; an empire of wealth and influence that seemed to operate on a different form of existence.

“you’re talking about the same sana who’s always on magazine covers, right?” dahyun added, her eyes wide with disbelief. “the one who throws tantrums over the wrong brand of mineral water?”

“and insists on separate dishes for every meal course,” jeongyeon nodded. “yeah, that’s her.”

you felt a mix of intrigue and apprehension. you’d read about sana in passing, her life a blur of extravagant parties, expensive vacations, and notorious diva behavior. she was everything you weren’t: loud, glamorous, and perpetually in the spotlight.

meanwhile, you preferred the quiet solace of modest living, your life small but safe.

“are you sure about this?” you asked, trying to gauge jeongyeon’s seriousness. “are you going to refer me instead?”

“as sure as i can be,” she replied. “i mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s a job. and who knows? maybe it won’t be as bad as it sounds, plus, they would probably want someone like you.”

“or maybe she’ll drive you insane within a week,” dahyun said, half-joking. “either way, it’ll make for some interesting stories.”

the weight of your decision was pressing down on you. you were hesitant, but with rent looming and no other prospects, you found yourself nodding. “okay. i’ll do it. for six months, that’s it.”

jeongyeon pursed her lips, nodding along. “six months and that’s it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the minatozaki mansion loomed ahead, all marble pillars and glass windows, like something out of a luxury real estate magazine.

as you slowly walked up the driveway, a sense of unease settled in.

this was a world you’d never been a part of, and you felt distinctly out of place in your borrowed suit, the fabric slightly too stiff, the collar too tight.

“miss minatozaki awaits you,” a uniformed maid opened the door and led you through a maze of hallways, each more opulent than the last. no one seemed interested in talking to each other - their heads kept low.

finally, you were brought to a sunlit lounge, where minatozaki sana herself lounged on an oversized chaise, scrolling through her phone. she looked up as you entered, her expression one of bored curiosity.

“so, you’re the new bodyguard?” she asked, voice lilting and slightly mocking. her accent was a blend of japanese and english, perfectly polished.

“yes, ma’am,” you replied stiffly, feeling the heat of her gaze.

she waved a hand dismissively. “don’t call me that. it makes me sound old.”

“then…miss minatozaki?” you tried, unsure of the protocol.

“absolutely not,” she shook her head in disapproval.

“sana?”

“better,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips, but it wasn’t a kind smile; it was more like the satisfied grin of someone who had won an unspoken game.

as you stood there, you couldn’t help but think back to dahyun’s words. maybe she would drive you insane within a week. or maybe, you’d find a way to navigate this strange new world.

the first week was a whirlwind of adjustments — both to the demands of the job and the peculiarities of sana.

as it turned out, being the bodyguard to asia’s most notorious nepo baby wasn’t just about keeping her physically safe. it was about managing her whims, tolerating her tantrums, and, on occasion, playing peacekeeper between her and whoever happened to be on her bad side that day.

it hasn’t even been long and you were already learning the hard way that her life was filled with chaos — both the glamorous and the outright ridiculous kind. today’s chaos revolved around a botched spa appointment.

you were in the staff room, sipping a much-needed coffee, when hana, one of the housemaids, burst in — looking panicked.

“y/n, we need you!” she exclaimed, almost out of breath.

you set down your cup, already feeling a headache coming on. “what’s going on?”

“sana,” she said urgently. “the spa messed up her facial treatment, and she’s…not taking it well.”

you hurried to the spa room in the mansion, where the unmistakable sound of sana’s angry voice could be heard before you even reached the door.

“are you fucking kidding me?” she was already shouting at the terrified spa technician. “this is not the organic serum i use! how could you get it wrong?”

“i’m so sorry, miss minatozaki,” the technician stammered, looking like she wanted to disappear. “there must have been a mix-up —”

“no excuses!” she snapped, her face flushed with anger. “i demand to speak to the manager who set this appointment up!”

you stepped in quickly, your presence catching sana’s attention. “hey, what’s going on?”

“what’s going on?” she repeated, her voice sharp as she turned to you. “they used the wrong serum on my face, y/n! do you know what that means?”

“i understand,” you said calmly, moving between her and the trembling technician. “but let’s not make a scene. i’m sure we can fix this.”

“fix this?” she scoffed, crossing her arms dramatically. “my skin is everything! this could ruin my whole week.”

“it won’t,” you reassured her. “let’s have them redo it properly with the correct serum. no harm done.”

she glared at you for a moment, the silence deafening, as if deciding whether to keep throwing a fit or let you handle it.

finally, she sighed dramatically, waving her hand dismissively. “fine, but this better not happen again.”

the staff let out a collective sigh of relief as you guided sana back to the treatment chair, your calm presence diffusing the tension.

as you turned towards the door to give her privacy, you heard her huff, making you look back at her. “what’s the matter now?”

“where are you going?” she crossed her legs, leaning against the chair. “stay.”

you pursed your lips. “can i get my coffee at least?”

she shook her head and your jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. “i’ll order us one.”

later, as you both left the spa room, she turned to you with a small, begrudging smile. “you’re not bad at calming me down, you know.”

“just doing my job,” you replied, but there was a hint of amusement in your voice.

you were used to keeping a low profile, slipping in and out of situations unnoticed. however, in sana’s world, invisibility wasn’t an option. you were always under scrutiny, whether from sana herself, her overbearing manager, or the hovering entourage of stylists, assistants, and PR personnel.

on the surface, she was everything you expected her to be. she was loud, glamorous, and seemed to find amusement in the smallest inconveniences.

one afternoon, while being driven to a photoshoot, sana’s driver took a wrong turn. she rolled her eyes dramatically, sighed, and declared it to be “the worst day of her life.”

“i’ve had worst,” you sat quietly in the front seat, staring out the window. you had lived through truly bad days; the kind that left lasting imprints on your mind. this wasn’t one of them.

for her, you guessed, the scale was different. the world revolved around her, bending to her every demand and adjusting to her moods.

“what’s your problem?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. her eyes narrowed, a challenge in them.

you blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“you’re too quiet most of the time,” she said, as if it were a flaw. “it’s creepy.”

you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but you kept your composure. “i’m here to do my job, not to entertain you.”

“boring,” she replied, drawing out the word. “but at least you’re not as fake as the last one.”

not knowing how to respond to that, you simply let the conversation die out. this, you realised, was part of the game: sana testing boundaries, seeing how far she could push before you pushed back.

she was used to getting reactions, usually adoration or frustration — your indifference seemed to both confuse and intrigue her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the end of week three, the initial awkwardness had given way to a strange kind of rhythm. you followed her to meetings, fashion shows and charity galas, always a step behind, always alert.

it was a bright monday morning and the mansion staff was already bustling to get sana’s breakfast ready. everything was going smoothly until someone made the unforgivable mistake of serving the wrong brand of mineral water.

“this isn’t evian!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the dining hall. she stared at the glass of water as if it were an insult. “who drinks this brand?”

the staff exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to handle the sudden outburst. within moments, one of the maids, jisoo, hurried to find you; and she did, with a newspaper on hand sitting on the stairs outside the house.

“y/n-ssi, sana needs you in the dining room,” she said urgently.

“what’s it this time?” you asked, already half-knowing the answer as you rolled your eyes.

“the wrong water brand,” she replied apologetically, bowing her head down.

“fuck’s sake,” you sighed but stood up and made your way to the dining room, where sana was sitting with her arms crossed, her breakfast untouched.

“what’s the problem?” you asked gently, keeping your tone steady as you walked in.

“the problem,” she said with exaggerated patience, “is that they gave me the wrong water. how many times do i have to tell them that i only drink evian?”

“i’ll get them to bring the right one,” you said, trying not to smile at the absurdity. “just try to eat something in the meantime.”

she looked at you, her eyes narrowing. “you think this is funny?”

“a little,” you admitted. “but i get it. i wouldn’t want to drink bad water either.”

her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but was still too annoyed. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re thirsty,” you shot back, already signaling for the staff to bring the evian out. “let’s fix that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

most of the time, sana ignored you, lost in her world of luxury and fame. sometimes, in the quieter moments, like when she was waiting for a shoot to start, or when her hair was being styled, she would glance at you with a curious expression, as if trying to figure you out — and always, always made sure you were being looked after by the same staff with the same level of care.

“what do you do for fun?” she asked one afternoon, her voice sudden and clear.

“i read,” you answered, not seeing the harm in a little honesty.

she wrinkled her nose. “that’s it? no parties, no dating, nothing?”

“that’s it,” you confirmed. “i like books, sometimes i’ll binge a show or two. i like to keep up with the times too; seeing as no ever reads the daily papers you get, i made the courtesy to volunteer.”

“how boring,” she said, but there was no malice in her voice this time — only mild amusement. “any girlfriends?”

“nope,” you answered, popping the ‘p’. “if i did, i wouldn’t be working for you 24/7, wouldn’t i?”

“wow, that’s really boring.”

you shrugged. “not everything has to be exciting.”

“but it should be,” she insisted, as if it were a fundamental truth. “life’s too short to be dull.”

you didn’t argue. after all, you knew she was partly right. she’d been raised in a world where everything was larger-than-life; where even the smallest moments were amplified, staged for the cameras and curated for maximum impact.

in contrast, your own life had been marked by quiet corners, long evenings with your friends and the occasional attempt at writing your own poetry, which you never let anyone read.

on the nights you returned home, dahyun and jeongyeon were eager to hear about your day. they had their own security stories to tell, mostly about rowdy bar patrons or obnoxious celebrity guests, but nothing quite as surreal as your new job.

“so, what’s she really like?” dahyun asked one evening, as she stirred a pot of ramen on the stove. “i mean, we know the public persona, but what’s behind all that?”

“more or less the same,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “she’s demanding, spoiled, and out of touch. though there are moments when she’s different.”

“different how?” jeongyeon chimed in, looking curious.

“it’s hard to explain,” you admitted. “it’s like she has these flashes of being real, but they’re gone as soon as they appear.”

jeongyeon grinned. “sounds like you’re getting to know her.”

“not really,” you said quickly. “i’m just observing.”

“sure,” dahyun teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “next thing we know, you’ll be taking selfies with her.”

“over my dead body,” you shot back, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

meanwhile, sana continued to navigate her world of excess with ease, but there were cracks in the facade. sometimes, late at night, you would catch glimpses of vulnerability — when she thought no one was watching…except that you were.

one night, after a particularly grueling day of photoshoots and meetings, you found her sitting alone on a balcony, nursing a glass of champagne.

“you know, it’s not always fun being me,” she said, her voice unusually soft, her fingers grazing over the bottle of champagne in her hand.

you hesitated, unsure if she wanted a response or was simply venting.

“i may have it all, but what’s the point of it when no one wants to get close? this world is all about money and lasting impressions.

you had no words of comfort. you barely knew her beyond the surface, and yet, in that moment, you felt a pang of empathy. you wondered if she had ever truly been allowed to be herself, or if she had always been the carefully crafted image of minatozaki holdings’ heir apparent.

“i guess that’s why you have bodyguards,” you said eventually with a grin, trying to keep the mood light. “to protect you from all that.”

she turned to look at you, a small, tired smile on her lips. “maybe. or maybe it’s just to make me feel less alone.”

you weren’t sure what to say to that, so you simply stood there, a silent companion in the middle of a life that seemed to belong to someone else.

the next night, there was a high-profile art exhibit and sana was expected to make an appearance alongside other high-society figures. as you both arrived at the gallery, everything seemed to be going well, until sana noticed that her name was misspelled on the VIP list.

“are you fucking kidding me?” she muttered her favourite words as she fumed, her voice dangerously low. “they misspelled my name. do they know who i am?”

the event coordinator tried to apologise, but sana was having none of it. “this is unacceptable. i can’t believe they’d be so careless.”

her stylist, jenna, now in full panic mode, hurried to find you standing at the back. “y/n, can you please handle this?”

you approached sana calmly, sensing the anger bubbling beneath her composed exterior. “sana, let’s not let this ruin the night. we can get it fixed quietly.”

“it’s not about fixing it,” she snapped, her frustration clear. “it’s about respect.”

“and you’ll get it,” you promised, your tone firm. “but the best way to show them who you are is to stay calm and let them correct their mistake.”

she glared at you, her anger giving way to something more vulnerable — hurt, perhaps, at being overlooked in a world that was supposed to revolve around her.

“fine,” she muttered, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “but only because you asked.”

later that night, as you escorted her out of the event, she looked up at you with a mix of gratitude and frustration.

“you’re too good at calming me down,” she said begrudgingly.

“someone has to be,” you teased gently, and for once, she laughed; a genuine, light-hearted sound that hinted at the girl underneath it all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

days turned into two months and your dynamic with sana continued to evolve in unexpected ways. her diva-like antics had become more tolerable, even endearing at times. she still had moments of complete absurdity, like insisting on a private helicopter ride to a nearby island simply because she felt like having lunch there, but there were also nights when you’d find yourself sitting on her penthouse balcony, sharing quiet conversations under the stars.

“sana, here!” a photographer yelled as you opened the car door for her.

tonight’s event was a high-profile film premiere, and sana was one of the celebrity guests on the red carpet. everything had been meticulously planned — her outfit, her makeup, her entrance.

as soon as she stepped out of the car, a sudden gust of wind caught the edge of her dress, sending it fluttering up slightly.

“are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath, trying to keep her composure as cameras flashed around her.

you were right behind her, keeping a close eye on her mood. you could tell that the minor mishap had thrown her off, and she was struggling to maintain her usual poise.

“it’s fine,” you whispered as you walked beside her. “no one noticed.”

“they definitely noticed,” she hissed back, her smile for the cameras clearly forced. “this is a disaster.”

“it’s just wind,” you reminded her softly. “you look stunning.”

“you’re just saying that,” she muttered, her voice a mix of annoyance and insecurity.

“no, i’m not,” you insisted, giving her a reassuring look. “you’re the most beautiful person here, wind or no wind.”

she glanced at you, and for a moment, the irritation faded. “you’re impossible.”

“you keep saying that,” you replied, your tone teasing.

she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her efforts to stay angry. “only because it’s true.”

changes in sana’s behaviour had become noticeable — and everyone knew it was your presence.

“where’s y/n?” sana asked one morning, her voice carrying through the hallways of her childhood residence. it had become a common question, asked whenever you weren’t within her immediate line of sight.

her assistants and staff had grown used to it, merely pointing her in your direction, a small smile tugging at their lips; there was no denying that she was a lot softer, more patient with you around.

“i think she went to grab a coffee with the night shift guys before they leave,” one of her managers responded. “how are you feeling?”

“oh,” she frowned, but quickly replaced it with a smile. “i’m feeling great today, i hope you all are too.”

“thank you, miss minatozaki.”

you had just returned from a quick break, a coffee cup in hand, when she spotted you walking into the kitchen. her face lit up, a small grin breaking through her usual poised expression.

“there you are,” she said, a hint of relief in her voice.

“did you need something?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no,” she admitted, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “just…wanted to see you.”

you nodded, your heart skipping a beat. the walls between you were slowly crumbling, leaving room for something tender and unexpected.

it was a quiet afternoon at the minatozaki residence. sana had accidentally fallen asleep after a long day of back-to-back meetings, photoshoots, and a few tense exchanges with her father over business decisions. you had stayed by her side the whole time, making sure she was protected and reassured. now that she was resting, you found yourself with a rare moment of downtime.

you wandered into the staff room once again, feeling a bit out of place but also grateful for the sense of normalcy it offered. the room was simple and far removed from the extravagance of the rest of the mansion.

it was filled with a few worn couches, a small coffee table, and a kitchenette. it was also where the house staff gathered for breaks, catching up on each other’s lives away from the opulent chaos of the minatozaki household.

today, the usual group was there: hana and misaki, the long-time japanese housemaids; jisoo, the young korean maid who had joined only recently; and hyunwoo and takashi, two of the security guards who had worked at the estate for years.

they looked up when you entered, surprised but pleased to see you.

“y/n-ssi,” jisoo greeted with a warm smile, her accent familiar in its korean softness. “come, sit with us.”

“thanks,” you said, taking a seat beside hana, who immediately poured you a cup of tea from the thermos on the table.

“tough day?” hana asked, her voice gentle, her eyes full of sympathy.

you nodded, taking a sip of the tea. “you could say that. she’s exhausted.”

“no wonder,” misaki chimed in, shaking her head. “sana works harder than anyone gives her credit for.”

“true,” hyunwoo agreed, his expression serious. “people only see the glamorous side of her life. they don’t realise how demanding it all is.”

“but it’s different now,” takashi added, his tone thoughtful as he eyed you. “since you arrived, y/n-san. she was devastated when taehyuk retired.”

“different how?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“she’s softer,” jisoo said, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “more human, if that makes sense. she still has her tantrums, but it’s clear she’s trying to be…better. specially around you.”

you shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “i’m just doing my job.”

“it’s more than that,” misaki said with a gentle laugh. “sana isn’t just being professional with you. we’ve seen it. she’s happier when you’re around.”

“happier?” you echoed, feeling your heart skip a beat.

“yes,” hyunwoo confirmed. “it’s obvious to all of us. she looks for you in every room, always wants you nearby and is calmer when you’re there. she even listens to you and asks for your opinions, something she rarely does with anyone else.”

“and the way she watches you,” jisoo added with a teasing grin. “it’s like she’s in a romantic drama. sometimes, i wonder if i’ll walk in on a confession scene.”

the group chuckled at jisoo’s remark, but you felt a wave of emotion you couldn’t quite suppress. you had noticed these things too, the way sana’s eyes softened when she looked at you, the way she seemed to lean into your presence as if it brought her some kind of comfort.

“we’ve known sana since she was a child,” hana said quietly, her tone turning serious. “and i don’t think i’ve ever seen her this vulnerable before. she cares about you deeply, y/n.”

“it’s not just her,” takashi added, his voice low but sincere. “we all like having you here. you’ve brought a different energy to this place. one that’s been missing for a long time.”

“i don’t know if i’m doing the right thing,” you admitted, finally letting your own insecurities slip through. “sometimes, i think i’m just making things harder for her.”

“or maybe you’re the one making things easier,” jisoo said softly. “it’s clear she needs you, even if she doesn’t always say it.”

the room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air. you were grateful for the staff’s warmth and honesty, even if it complicated your feelings further.

as you finished your tea, you felt a strange sense of belonging; a feeling you hadn’t expected to find in the mansion’s staff room. you weren’t just the hired help anymore, you were someone who mattered, not just to sana, but to the people who had cared for her all these years.

however, not all moments were sweet. the intensity of being in the public eye meant that danger often lurked around the corner, specially in the form of aggressive paparazzi. they were relentless, always waiting for an opportunity to capture the heiress in vulnerable moments.

one night, as you and sana were leaving a high-profile fashion event, a group of photographers closed in, their cameras flashing incessantly. the air was thick with shouts, and the energy was hostile; an unwelcome reminder of her reality.

“sana, over here!” one yelled, his voice sharp.

“how about a smile, princess?” another taunted, his tone mocking.

you instinctively positioned yourself between sana and the crowd, your body acting as a barrier. she clutched your arm, her grip tight, her usually confident demeanor wavering.

“back off,” you commanded firmly, trying to maintain a calm but authoritative presence.

“aww, look at this,” one of the paparazzi sneered, his camera focused on you. “the bodyguard’s playing hero now.”

his comment sparked laughter among the other photographers, and you felt a surge of anger rise within you. you had learned to tune out the taunts over the months, but something about the tone, about how he was reducing your efforts to a joke, struck a nerve.

“she doesn’t need you,” he continued, his grin malicious. “you’re just another expendable employee.”

you stepped closer, your voice low but full of controlled fury. “say that again, and we’ll see how expendable i really am.”

the crowd grew tense, sensing a confrontation, but your tone and stance made it clear that you were not to be trifled with. the photographer hesitated, his bravado faltering.

“come on, let’s go,” another paparazzo muttered, nudging him away. “this one’s not worth it.”

they backed off, but the tension lingered in the air, the aftermath of the encounter still palpable.

sana tugged at your sleeve gently, her voice shaky. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you said, still glaring at the retreating photographers. “what about you?”

“i hate them,” she whispered, her face crumpling slightly as she let her guard down. “i hate how they always want a piece of me.”

her vulnerability hit you hard, and without thinking, you reached out to touch her arm gently. “i know. but i won’t let them hurt you. not while i’m here.”

she looked up at you, her eyes saying it all. it was one of the few times you’d seen her without her usual armour and the rawness of her emotion was both heartbreaking and intimate.

“thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible over the din of the still-chattering crowd. “for always being here.”

“always,” you promised, feeling a rush of warmth despite the chaos around you.

that night, back at her residence, sana was unusually quiet. she seemed lost in thought, her mind replaying the day’s events. you were about to head out home for the night shift guards to take over when she called your name softly.

“y/n?” you turned around, the impacts of today etched on your face.

“yeah?”

“you keep me going,” she smiled, voice really sincere this time. “i mean it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the third month with sana marked a distinct shift in the atmosphere between you two. it was a subtle change at first — small glances lingering a bit longer, her voice softening when she spoke to you and an almost childlike curiosity about your life. it was as if she had decided that you were no longer just a bodyguard, but someone she could confide in.

one of those nights, she broke the silence with a surprising question.

“what’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever read?” she asked, her voice a mix of genuine curiosity and something softer.

you thought for a moment, trying to sift through the endless lines of poetry and philosophy you’d absorbed over the years. finally, you recited from memory, “i have waited for you for centuries. my arms were made to cradle only you. my lips were shaped to call only your name.”

sana was silent for a moment, her eyes wide. “that’s…beautiful.”

“it’s from a poem by pablo neruda,” you explained, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“you’re such a hopeless romantic,” she teased, but her tone was warm, almost tender.

“maybe,” you admitted. “but it’s just words, you know?”

“sometimes words are all we have,” she said quietly, her gaze distant.

the conversation lingered in your mind long after that night. there was a depth to sana that she rarely let anyone see, but she was beginning to let you in; piece by piece, word by word.

meanwhile, back at your shared apartment, jeongyeon and dahyun found endless amusement in the stories you brought home about sana’s escapades. they’d often sit around the small kitchen table, laughing over dinner.

“so, she really made you carry fifteen shopping bags all by yourself?” dahyun asked one night, her eyes wide with disbelief.

you nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “yup. and she didn’t even look back to check if i was struggling.”

jeongyeon snorted. “sounds like a real princess.”

“she is,” you admitted, though there was no bite in your words anymore, not after getting to see a soft side of her.

at the end of it all, sana wasn’t the stupid nepo baby you always thought she was. since you met, she has hosted five charity events, donated most of her earnings to at least ten different organisations and it wasn’t easy to outsmart her.

it was during one of these dinners that your other friends jihyo, momo and mina showed up unexpectedly with homemade food and cheap bottles of wine.

“you look…happier,” jihyo observed, a small smile playing on her lips. “is it the job?”

“maybe,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “it’s not as bad as i thought it would be.”

momo, who had a knack for teasing, leaned forward with a grin. “or maybe it’s the client?”

mina, quieter but no less curious, raised an eyebrow. “minatozaki sana, right? she’s pretty famous.”

“and pretty spoiled,” you added, but there was a hint of fondness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

“oh my god, you like her,” jihyo exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “you’ve got that look in your eyes!”

“i do not,” you protested weakly, but your friends weren’t convinced.

“yeah, right,” dahyun laughed. “you totally have a crush on her.”

jeongyeon poured a shot of soju into your glass, chuckling. “you should all hear the way she talks about sana — it’s like the heiress is glued to her hip. she does fourteen-hour shifts with her.”

“okay, fine,” you admitted reluctantly. “she’s… interesting. but it’s complicated.”

“of course it is,” mina said, her tone understanding. “complicated can be good.”

the truth was, you were genuinely enjoying the job, or at least, you were enjoying being around sana. the lines between professionalism and personal feelings had blurred, and you found yourself wanting to spend more time with her, not just out of duty but out of genuine interest.

one evening, as you were preparing to leave sana’s penthouse after a long day, she stopped you at the door with an unexpected request.

“i want to meet your friends,” she said, her tone unusually earnest.

you blinked, caught off guard. “why?”

she looked a bit embarrassed, which was rare for her. “i don’t know. i just want to know more about you. the real you.”

it was a surprising moment of vulnerability from someone who usually kept her walls firmly intact.

after a moment of hesitation, you agreed. “okay, but you should know, our house looks completely different to this.”

“even better,” she smiled.

a week later, you invited sana over for dinner at your apartment. your housemates freaked out, with dahyun saying “she can’t believe this shit” and jeongyeon yelling “our house will suffocate her”, she arrived a bit too early, dressed in obvious designer clothes (she tried to make it subtle) that seemed hilariously out of place in your modest home.

the living room fell into a stunned silence as you led sana inside. she handed you flowers and wine, a small, almost shy gesture that seemed completely at odds with her usual confident demeanor.

“hi?” jeongyeon said, her eyes wide. “it’s nice to meet you!”

“i thought it was time to meet y/n’s friends properly,” sana explained, her voice earnest. “i hope i’m not intruding.”

“not at all,” dahyun interrupted quickly, breaking the awkwardness with a smile. “we’re just surprised, that’s all.”

“a pleasant surprise,” jeongyeon added warmly, recovering from the initial shock. “welcome.”

“thank you,” sana said, her smile growing more genuine. “i brought wine, if that helps.”

“it always does,” you quipped, making everyone laugh.

as the evening progressed, sana was unexpectedly charming. she asked questions, listened attentively and made a real effort to get to know each of your friends. it was clear she was trying to fit in, and there was an endearing awkwardness about it — like she was stepping into a world she didn’t quite understand, but was determined to navigate anyway.

“so, y/n never told me you’re such a good cook,” sana said to dahyun as she tasted the jjigae. “this is amazing.”

“thanks,” dahyun replied, clearly pleased. “y/n’s usually in charge of burning the rice, so i have to take over.”

“i don’t burn the rice that often,” you protested, but your grin gave you away.

“oh, really?” sana teased, her eyes twinkling. “i’ll have to try your cooking next time, then.”

the table erupted in laughter, and you felt a warmth in your chest; one that came from seeing sana blend so naturally into your world.

moments later, jeongyeon leaned forward, her expression curious. “so sana, what’s it like being…well, you? all the glamour, the attention, the pressure?”

she thought for a moment, her expression turning serious. “honestly? it’s exhausting sometimes. but being here, with all of you, feels normal. and that’s something i don’t get often.”

the sincerity in her voice struck a chord with everyone, and the atmosphere softened even further.

“well, we’re glad you’re here,” dahyun said warmly. “you’re welcome anytime.”

“thank you,” sana smiled, her gaze drifting toward you. “i really appreciate it.”

as dinner wound down and the plates piled up, everyone started to get up to clear the table. sana, to everyone’s surprise, rolled up her sleeves and headed straight for the sink.

“what are you doing?” you asked, voice filled with genuine disbelief.

“helping with the dishes,” sana replied matter-of-factly. “is that okay?”

dahyun, who had been about to start washing, handed sana a dishcloth. “here, you can dry. but don’t tell anyone, or we’ll lose our reputations as the best dishwashers in seoul.”

she laughed, taking the cloth. “your secret’s safe with me.”

as they stood side by side at the sink, sana and dahyun exchanged stories; simple things about childhood, favourite foods and embarrassing moments. you watched from the living room, feeling a mix of admiration and affection as she genuinely tried to fit into the mundane domesticity of your world.

“she’s really trying, isn’t she?” jeongyeon whispered to you, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement.

“yeah,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving sana’s figure. “she is.”

and as you watched her, sleeves rolled up, drying dishes with a cheerful smile, you felt the hope you’d been suppressing slowly come back to life.

tonight was a quiet evening at her penthouse, the kind that was rare amidst the chaos of her schedule. she was sitting on the balcony, staring out at the city lights, a bottle of wine in hand. she had insisted on drinking straight from the bottle, much to the shock of her staff, but she sent them off, saying it was a “casual night.”

you joined her, taking a seat beside her on the wrought-iron chair. she offered you the bottle, a faint smile on her lips.

“want some?” she asked.

you hesitated, then took a small sip, surprised at how intimate the moment felt.

“i used to come out here a lot not too long ago,” she said suddenly, her voice softer than usual. “it was the only place where i could really think.”

“about what?” you asked, curious.

“everything,” she admitted, her gaze distant. “what it means to be me, about whether i even like who i am.”

“and do you?” you asked quietly, not sure if she’d want to answer.

“sometimes,” she said honestly. “but mostly, it feels like i’m just playing a role. being the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress…it’s exhausting.”

“you don’t have to be perfect,” you said gently. “not with me.”

she turned to look at you, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite identify. “you always say things like that,” she whispered. “and it scares me how much i want to believe you.”

the rawness of her confession left you momentarily speechless. you reached out, your hand resting on top of hers.

“i mean it,” you said sincerely. “you’re allowed to be real, sana. even if it’s messy.”

for a moment, she simply stared at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. then, in a rare display of vulnerability, she squeezed your hand, holding onto it as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

it was a good night, one that almost felt normal; like you were two regular people.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the start of the fourth month, the line between you and sana had blurred in ways that neither of you acknowledged out loud. it wasn’t just that you had become accustomed to each other’s presence; there was a deeper pull, an unspoken connection that had grown stronger despite your best efforts to maintain a professional distance.

tonight was no exception. it was another high-profile fashion event for prada, filled with celebrities, influencers and models who glided through the room as if they owned the world.

you stood a few paces behind sana, keeping a watchful eye on the crowded room. she was in her element, surrounded by admirers, her confident smile perfectly polished. you tried to focus on your duties but it was hard not to be distracted by how striking she looked tonight — her black dress hugging her figure, her hair swept back elegantly, a diamond necklace catching the light with every turn of her head.

you were pulled from your thoughts when a blonde woman approached you, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. she was dressed in an expensive dress and exuded the kind of effortless confidence that could make anyone feel self-conscious.

“hey,” she said smoothly, her voice low and flirtatious. “you don’t seem like you’re here for the fashion.”

you offered a polite smile, trying to remain professional. “i’m working.”

“i figured,” she replied, stepping closer. “but even bodyguards deserve a little fun, don’t you think?”

you glanced over at sana instinctively, but she was engaged in conversation with a group of designers. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond to the model’s advances without drawing unnecessary attention.

“i’m not really here for fun,” you said finally, keeping your tone light but firm.

“that’s a shame,” she teased, her eyes glinting. “because you seem like someone who could use a little distraction.”

before you could respond, you caught sight of sana’s gaze shifting toward you, her smile faltering for a split second as she noticed the exchange.

there was a flicker of something in her eyes.

you quickly excused yourself from the model’s advances and returned to your position behind sana. she didn’t say anything, but you could feel a subtle shift in her demeanour — her posture a bit more rigid, her laughter a bit forced.

“everything okay?” you asked quietly when there was a brief lull in the conversation.

“fine,” she replied shortly, not meeting your gaze.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. the rest of the event dragged on, with sana becoming increasingly quiet, her usual spark dimming noticeably.

when the event finally ended and you both stepped into the back of the limousine, the silence was thick and uncomfortable. sana stared out the window, her expression closed off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

you glanced at her, unsure of how to break the tension. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” she asked, her voice clipped.

“you seem different,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

“just tired,” she muttered, still avoiding your eyes. “that’s all.”

the drive back to the penthouse was filled with an uneasy quiet, each passing second amplifying the unspoken tension between you. it was clear that something was bothering her, but you didn’t press further, respecting her space.

when you arrived at the penthouse, she stepped out of the car abruptly, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she walked ahead without a word. you followed her inside, unsure of what to expect.

as soon as the door closed behind you, the tension in the room became almost suffocating. sana stopped in the middle of the living room, her back to you, her shoulders tense.

“was she pretty?” she asked suddenly, her voice laced with an unexpected bitterness.

“what?” you asked, confused.

“the model,” she clarified, turning to face you. “did you think she was pretty?”

her words caught you off guard. you weren’t sure how to respond.

“i wasn’t really paying attention,” you said honestly, your voice steady. “i was just doing my job.”

“right,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “because flirting is definitely part of your job description.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice calm. “she was.”

“and you didn’t stop her,” she shot back, her eyes flashing with frustration.

you took a step closer, trying to bridge the distance between you. “sana, what’s really going on here?”

“what’s going on,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “is that i hated seeing her talk to you. i hated seeing her try to get your attention.”

the admission hung in the air between you, charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore.

“why?” you asked softly, taking another step closer.

“because,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “because i don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

her words were filled with a desperation that was impossible to misunderstand. she closed the remaining distance between you in a sudden, impulsive movement, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and longing.

“sana…” you started, but she shook her head.

“no,” she said firmly, her hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “i need to know something.”

“what?” you asked, your voice low and filled with uncertainty.

“if you want this too,” she whispered, her thumb brushing against your skin. “because i can’t keep pretending that i don’t.”

her confession was raw, filled with months of suppressed desire and longing. you could feel the warmth of her touch, the intensity in her eyes, and the vulnerability in her voice.

“i do,” you admitted, your own voice thick with emotion. “i want this.”

there was a moment of hesitation, a pause filled with the weight of everything that had brought you to this point. then, in a rush of courage, she closed the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent.

what started as a tentative kiss soon turned into something more urgent, fueled by the months of unresolved tension. her lips were demanding, her touch insistent, and you found yourself giving in despite every rational thought screaming at you to stop. this was wrong: unprofessional, dangerous even — but it was also everything you hadn’t realised you’d been missing.

“sana —“

“don’t think,” she murmured against your skin, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. “just be here. with me.”

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“i didn’t plan that,” she admitted, her voice a mix of relief and disbelief.

“i’m glad you did it anyway,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

she let out a shaky laugh, her fingers still tracing the curve of your jaw. “stay tonight,” she said softly, her eyes filled with hope.

“okay,” you agreed, your voice filled with certainty. that was the first of many nights.

little did you know, jeongyeon and dahyun were becoming suspicious. they noticed your late returns, the occasional dazed expression on your face, and the fact that you seemed more distracted than usual.

“you’re definitely hiding something,” jeongyeon said one evening, her tone half-accusing, half-amused.

“what’s going on, y/n?” dahyun pressed. “come on, you can tell us.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lied, a bit too quickly.

jeongyeon narrowed her eyes. “if it’s about sana, we already know she’s a handful. but if she’s causing you real trouble, we need to know.”

“it’s not like that,” you insisted, feeling the weight of your secret grow heavier. “it’s too complicated.”

and it was. the more you tried to keep your relationship with sana under wraps, the more tangled it became. the sneaking around, the hushed conversations, the stolen kisses — they all added up to a mess of feelings you hadn’t anticipated.

it was meant to be a routine public appearance for sana — just another glamorous event on her packed schedule. this time, it was a charity auction at one of seoul’s most upscale hotels, where wealthy socialites and influential business figures gathered to bid on overpriced art and sip vintage champagne.

you stood a few feet behind her, your gaze scanning the room with practiced caution. the past few months had sharpened your instincts; you were constantly on alert, even when sana’s attention was elsewhere.

sana, for her part, was in her element, dressed in a backless red gown that turned heads as she moved through the crowd. she was charming and magnetic, playing her role to perfection. she even shot you a few mischievous glances, as if enjoying the private joke of your secret closeness amidst all the extravagance.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a man approaching: his movements too quick, too direct. before you could react, he lunged toward sana, his voice an incoherent mix of anger and desperation.

“you think no one can have you?” he yelled, his eyes wild. “if i can’t have you then no one can!”

instinct took over. you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the man and sana, your body acting as a shield. his fist swung wildly, and before you could fully brace for it, his knuckles connected with your face. pain exploded across your nose, and you stumbled back, your vision blurring momentarily.

“y/n!” sana’s scream cut through the chaos, high-pitched and terrified.

you quickly recovered, holding your ground as security personnel rushed in to restrain the man. your nose throbbed, and when you touched it, you felt the warm, sticky wetness of blood.

“are you okay?” her voice was frantic as she reached you, her hands trembling as they hovered near your face.

“i’m fine,” you managed to say, though the pain was sharp and your pride was bruised. “just a scratch.”

“that’s not a scratch,” she snapped, her voice full of uncharacteristic worry. “you’re bleeding. we need to get you checked.”

“it’s nothing serious,” you insisted, trying to play it down, but the look on her face was one of genuine panic.

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” she said firmly, her hand gripping your arm. “you’re taking a week off. and that’s final.”

before you could argue, she was already barking orders to her assistant to arrange for medical help and a car back to your residence. her concern was startling; it wasn’t the spoiled diva you’d grown used to, but someone genuinely rattled by your injury.

after you got the clearance from a site medic, sana immediately jumped into the car with you — face still etched with worry.

“you were bleeding,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. she reached out, her fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that caught you off guard. “i was scared.”

“it’s not that bad,” you insisted, smiling at her as you looked down on the blood all over your collar.

“this is all my fault,” she muttered, her voice filled with guilt. “if i hadn’t gone out —”

“no,” you interrupted firmly, grabbing her hand. “this isn’t your fault. it’s just part of the job.”

before she could respond, one of her managers turned to look at you both, looking frazzled and concerned. “sana, we have to leave in a different car now. there’s an urgent board meeting you can’t miss. it’s already started.”

sana’s face shifted from worry to irritation, her eyes blazing with frustration. “i’m not leaving y/n like this.”

“but sana —” junwoo began, his tone urgent.

“i don’t care,” she snapped, her voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. “she’s hurt. i’m not just abandoning her.”

you squeezed her hand, trying to stay calm despite the pain and the intensity of the moment. “sana, you have to go. this meeting is important.”

“you’re more important,” she said firmly, her eyes never leaving yours.

“i’ll be okay,” you reassured her, your voice soft but steady. “i promise. i’ll get patched up and meet you at the residence or the penthouse later.”

she hesitated, clearly torn between her duty and her concern for you. “but what if you need me? what if something happens?”

“nothing’s going to happen,” you said, your grip on her hand tightening. “you have to go. they need you right now.”

her eyes filled with tears, her jaw set in a mixture of stubbornness and helplessness. “i don’t want to leave you.”

“i know,” you whispered. “but i need you to go, please?”

for a long moment, she just stared at you, her face a mask of conflicting emotions. then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “fine, but promise me you’ll message me later. i want to see for myself that you’re okay.”

“i promise,” you said, trying to inject confidence into your voice despite the pain.

she leaned forward suddenly, pressing a quick, desperate kiss to your forehead as a sleek silver car parked next to the one you were in. “i’ll be back as soon as i can, see you, baby!”

you waved at her, the throbbing pain spread out all over your face being replaced by your skipping heart beat. baby. you could get used to it.

half an hour later, back at your apartment, jeongyeon and dahyun were waiting with ice packs and a bottle of whiskey — ready to commiserate.

dahyun immediately clicked into nurse mode, cleaning your cut while jeongyeon shook her head, half-amused and half-worried.

“you really took one for the team, huh?” jeongyeon teased, though her eyes were soft with concern.

“it was my job,” you said, wincing as dahyun applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

“well, she better appreciate it,” mina muttered. “because that guy landed a pretty solid punch with his rings on too.”

you were trying to downplay the whole incident, but a knock at the door interrupted your attempts at nonchalance. it was unexpected, no one ever dropped by unannounced.

you shared a confused glance with your roommates before jeongyeon went to open the door.

“what the —” jeongyeon’s surprised voice echoed from the entryway.

when you peeked around the corner, you saw sana standing there, holding an enormous gift basket filled with flowers, chocolates, and other expensive-looking items. behind her stood tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon, each carrying bags of what looked like more gifts.

“we’re here to see y/n,” sana announced, her tone a strange mix of confidence and nervousness.

you froze. this was the last thing you’d expected — not just sana’s sudden appearance, but the fact that she’d brought her high-society friends to your modest apartment.

“uh, come in, i guess,” jeongyeon said awkwardly, stepping aside to let them in.

as soon as sana saw you, her expression softened. she rushed over, setting the basket on the table before gently cupping your face, inspecting the damage.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice low and filled with concern. “i only showed up to the meeting to sign papers and then left.”

“it’s just a bruise,” you reassured her, feeling self-conscious under everyone’s gaze. “you didn’t have to come here straight away.”

“yes, i did,” she insisted. “and i brought reinforcements,” she gestured toward tzuyu, chaeyoung and nayeon, who were now trying to make themselves comfortable amidst the clutter of your shared living space.

“we heard y/n got hurt,” tzuyu said simply, her usually aloof expression softening.

“yeah, and sana was freaking out,” nayeon added with a grin, nudging sana’s shoulder playfully. “she made us come along to make sure she wasn’t exaggerating, and of course, to carry her bags around.”

chaeyoung, meanwhile, looked around with interest. “this place is cozy. it’s a lot more…real than i expected.”

“thanks, i think,” dahyun said, still processing the fact that she was suddenly hosting four of asia’s wealthiest heirs in her living room. “so, uh, anyone want some ramen?”

“we brought food,” sana interjected quickly, motioning to the bags her friends had carried in. “i figured you wouldn’t want to cook after everything.”

before long, the table was filled with takeout boxes, a mix of high-end sushi, tempura and even a few bottles of sake. the atmosphere gradually eased into a strange, unexpected bond.

tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon proved to be surprisingly down-to-earth despite what the tabloids say, laughing at jeongyeon and dahyun’s stories about dealing with unruly celebrities and bar crowd.

“not gonna lie,” tzuyu said, looking around playfully. “i’ve been one of those uncontrollable patrons.”

“oh, you have,” dahyun smirked, crossing her arms. “met gala, last year, vomit.”

“oh my god,” she put a hand over her mouth with careful exaggeration. “no way, it was you?”

“you sure as hell are lucky it wasn’t jeongyeon!”

throughout dinner, sana stayed close to you —closer than she’d ever dared to in public. she held your hand under the table, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your skin. she even pressed a soft kiss to your forehead at one point, eliciting a few curious glances from your friends, who pretended not to notice.

“so, y/n,” nayeon began, a sly smile on her face. “how’s it been, working with sana? she’s not too much of a diva, is she?”

“she’s been fine,” you answered diplomatically, though the warmth in your voice was hard to miss.

“fine?” sana echoed, pouting slightly. “is that all you have to say about me?”

“you’re okay, too,” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“wow, such high praise,” chaeyoung quipped, making everyone laugh.

beneath the humour, there was an unmistakable shift in the air. it was as if your secret had been revealed; acknowledged but not addressed.

everyone seemed to sense the connection between you and sana, but no one dared to bring it up directly.

after dinner, while everyone was chatting in the living room, jeongyeon pulled you aside into the kitchen. her expression was serious, her voice low.

“are you really okay, y/n?” she asked, searching your face.

“i am,” you said, though you knew she wasn’t just asking about the physical injury.

“you and sana, what’s going on there?” jeongyeon asked bluntly.

you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “it’s complicated.”

“no kidding,” she said dryly. “but seriously, y/n. you’re getting in deep with her. are you ready for that?”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i don’t know. it’s not like i planned for any of this to happen.”

“i get that,” jeongyeon said, her voice softening. “but just be careful, okay? she’s got a lot more power in this situation than you do.”

you nodded, appreciating the concern. “i know. but right now, i think she’s worth it.”

jeongyeon didn’t say anything more, but the look in her eyes said enough. she was worried for you, not just because of the obvious risks but because she knew how easy it was for someone like sana to break your heart — intentionally or not.

back in the living room, sana caught your eye and gave you a questioning look. you offered a reassuring smile and she immediately relaxed, resuming her conversation with tzuyu.

it was a small moment, but it meant everything in the context of your complicated relationship.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the fifth month of working for sana, your relationship had settled into an unexpected rhythm — one that was equal parts professional obligation and genuine attachment. there were still the usual challenges: sana’s diva moments, sudden mood swings and the pressure of keeping up with her unpredictable schedule. but there were also the quiet moments; late-night conversations on the balcony, her head resting on your shoulder as you both gazed at the city lights below.

meeting sana’s parents, however, was a different kind of challenge altogether. it was a sunny saturday afternoon when you were summoned to the minatozaki family estate, an opulent mansion that dwarfed even the luxury of sana’s usual residence.

the invitation was a surprise, but you had no choice but to accept, sana’s mother was adamant about meeting “the employee who’s lasted the longest.”

“relax,” sana whispered as you both stepped out of the car. she looked stunning in a pastel pink dress, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun. “they’re not as intimidating as they seem.”

you doubted that, but you nodded anyway, keeping your expression neutral. inside, you were a bundle of nerves.

the meeting, to your surprise, went better than expected. mr. and mrs. minatozaki were polite, even warm. they asked you a series of questions — mostly about your background, how you found the job and your experience working with their daughter. you answered truthfully, though you kept your personal feelings well-hidden.

“we appreciate your dedication, y/n,” mrs. minatozaki said with a smile. she was a poised woman, with a sharp gaze that seemed to see through people. “sana has never kept a bodyguard for this long. she must trust you a great deal.”

you felt a strange sense of pride at the comment, even as you maintained your composure. “thank you, ma’am. i’m just doing my job.”

“well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” mr. minatozaki added. “we’ve seen a positive change in sana since you started.”

sana blushed slightly at that, her usual confidence replaced with a hint of vulnerability. you couldn’t help but glance at her, and she caught your eye with a soft smile — one that was meant only for you.

later that night, sana gave you the rare gift of a night off. you returned to your apartment, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. the validation from sana’s parents was unexpected, and it lingered in your mind as you walked through the door.

jeongyeon, dahyun, mina, momo, and jihyo were all gathered in the living room, a mix of snacks and drinks spread out on the coffee table. it was meant to be a casual girls’ night, but you knew from their curious expressions that they were eager for more details.

“so, how’d it go?” jihyo asked, as soon as you stepped inside.

“with the parents?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you kicked off your shoes.

“yeah, obviously,” mina chimed in, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “we want to know everything.”

“it was fine,” you replied, plopping down on the couch beside momo. “they’re nice, surprisingly.”

“and?” momo prodded, grinning. “did they grill you? ask if you’re dating their daughter?”

“no,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt warm. “it was just formal stuff…but i think they caught on.”

“boring,” mina teased, but her gaze was soft, clearly pleased that you hadn’t had a terrible time.

dahyun leaned forward, an amused glint in her eyes. “speaking of surprise meetings…did we tell you about how the heiresses showed up here last week?”

jihyo blinked, caught off guard. “wait, what? the four heiresses of the apocalypse?”

“oh yeah,” jeongyeon confirmed, laughing. “sana, tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon came by. apparently, sana was worried about y/n’s pretty face.”

“they even brought gifts,” dahyun added, still looking mildly astonished. “for all of us.”

mina’s eyes widened. “wait, sana came here? and brought gifts? the world really is ending.”

“and she was super protective of y/n,” jeongyeon continued, smirking. “held her hand the whole time and even kissed her forehead.”

“whoa,” momo said, her jaw dropping theatrically. “y/n, you’ve got it bad.”

“it’s not like that,” you protested weakly, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

jihyo crossed her arms, looking unconvinced. “sounds pretty serious to me.”

“serious or not,” mina interjected gently, “you seem happy, y/n. we’re just worried, you know? she’s…a lot. like, powerful.”

you sighed, grateful for their concern but also conflicted. “i know she is. but it’s complicated, my contract’s about to end.”

“extend it you goof,” dahyun giggled. “you get paid whilst dating your boss? sounds pretty sweet to me.”

“we’re not dating!”

“yet,” mina sighed.

“yeah, yeah,” you groaned, grabbing a handful of skittles and shoving them into your mouth. “whatever you say.”

as the evening went on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics — gossip about work, updates on personal lives and reminiscing about old times.

the final weeks of your contract approached quickly, and the impending end of your time with sana hung over both of you like a dark cloud. there were still stolen moments, secret kisses in the back of cars, whispered confessions late at night yet the tension was growing. you hadn’t told her about your decision yet, but she seemed to sense that something was off.

one afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside sana in the mansion’s garden, the autumn air cool and crisp. she was unusually quiet, a distant look in her eyes as she gazed at the small koi pond.

you often caught yourself watching her, memorising the way she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled when she teased you, or the way she absentmindedly reached for your hand when she thought no one was looking. it was getting harder to keep your feelings hidden, but you knew that admitting your love would make leaving even more painful.

“you know, i used to come here a lot when i was a kid,” she said suddenly, her voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. “back when things were simpler. my mother would bring me here after her meetings. she’d always tell me that the koi fish represented strength and resilience.”

you watched her as she spoke, the sadness in her voice palpable. it was rare for her to share such personal memories and you felt honoured, even as it added to the weight in your chest.

“and sometimes,” she continued, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips, “hana and misaki would sneak me sweets from the kitchen. they were always so kind to me, treating me like i was just one of their girls instead of…well, me.”

you tried to smile but your thoughts were elsewhere; focused on the fact that you didn’t belong in this world of koi ponds and lavish mansions. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were simply a temporary fixture in her life.

“y/n?” sana’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone laced with concern. “are you okay? you seem distant.”

you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “i’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”

she tilted her head, studying you with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through your defenses. “is it about us?”

“i don’t know where i stand in your life,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “and i’m not sure i belong here.”

“of course you belong here,” she said instantly, her voice filled with an urgency that startled you. “you’re important to me, y/n. more than you think.”

you turned to look at her, searching for any hint of doubt in her eyes, but all you saw was sincerity. “how important?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m just your bodyguard.”

“you’re not just anything,” she insisted, reaching out to take your hand. “my love, you’ve become…so much more than that. you’re the person i look for in every room.”

her confession hit you hard, but instead of relief, it only deepened your internal conflict. “your life is too different from mine. you have everything — money, status, opportunities. i can’t compete with that, i have nothing to give.”

“i’m not asking you to compete,” she said, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’m asking you to stay.”

the raw vulnerability in her voice nearly broke your resolve. you wanted so desperately to say yes, to promise her a future that felt impossible. but the practical side of you, the side that had always been wary of hope — kept you grounded.

“it’s not that simple,” you said, your voice cracking. “what happens when i’m no longer part of this world? when your life goes on, and i’m just a memory?”

“i don’t want you to be a memory,” she said fiercely, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “i want you here. with me.”

the sincerity in her words shattered something inside you. it was everything you wanted to hear, but also everything that scared you the most.

“sana,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i never meant to fall in love with you.”

your confession catches her off guard. “then why are you pushing me away?”

“because loving you feels too dangerous,” you admitted, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “i’m terrified of what will happen if i stay.”

“then let’s be terrified together,” she said, her own tears finally breaking free. “we don’t have to figure everything out right now. please don’t give up on us before we even start. i’m in love with you, i’ve been in love with you from the beginning.”

her plea hung in the air, desperate, as the weight of your decision pressed down on you. staying meant risking everything: your heart, your future, your sense of self.

in that moment, with her hand holding yours and her eyes full of hope, the idea of leaving felt even more unbearable.

you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, not yet. instead, you squeezed her hand back, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had grown between you, even if it felt too fragile to last.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the decision not to renew your contract weighed on you like an impending storm. and as if to reinforce your decision, the universe seemed intent on reminding you of the vast gap between your reality and sana’s.

sana was used to being around the rich, the famous, and the powerful. her social circles included heirs, models, and celebrities — people who shared her lifestyle and effortlessly fit into her world.

you, on the other hand, often felt like an outsider peering in, a temporary presence among the permanent fixtures of her life.

one evening, at an exclusive charity gala, you found yourself in a large, glittering ballroom, filled with the one percent of the world. sana, dressed in a stunning emerald gown, was the center of attention as always.

standing beside her, you remained alert, your gaze trained on the crowd.

and then, there he was — one of sana’s suitors, a man who seemed perfectly tailored for her life. tall, impeccably dressed and oozing charisma, he approached with a confident smile.

“sana,” he greeted warmly, extending a hand. “it’s good to see you.”

“hello hiroshi,” she replied, her voice pleasant but distant. you noticed a flicker of discomfort in her eyes, but she masked it well.

hiroshi, the heir to a luxury conglomerate, was a familiar face at events like these. you’d heard whispers about him before; he was one of the many eligible bachelors rumoured to be pursuing sana.

“you look beautiful tonight,” hiroshi continued, his voice smooth.

“thank you,” she said politely, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. she glanced at you briefly, a silent reassurance that felt hollow amidst the glamour.

the evening dragged on, with more suitors and admirers approaching sana, each one embodying the wealth and prestige you couldn’t compete with. they all seemed so polished, so effortlessly at ease in her world.

every time she exchanged a polite smile or a charming laugh, you felt yourself pulling further away, retreating into your own insecurities.

then came the moment that felt like the final blow.

at another event a few weeks later, held at one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, you found yourself standing at a distance, watching sana from across the room. she was engaged in conversation with a group of old friends, including one you recognised immediately — her ex-boyfriend, jake.

he was a well-known musician, popular and adored by many. his easy charm and confident presence were evident as he chatted with sana, their laughter echoing above the hum of the party.

he was everything you weren’t — wealthy, famous, and someone who had once been deeply embedded in sana’s life.

the crowd seemed to love the idea of them together. cheers and playful shouts of encouragement rang out as someone raised a glass in their direction.

“come on, get back together!” someone yelled, and the room erupted in lighthearted agreement.

sana’s face flushed slightly, but she maintained her composure, laughing it off. “stop it,” she chided, her tone playful but firm.

you felt a sickening twist in your gut, watching her interact so effortlessly with jake. they looked good together.

you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was just an old relationship, but seeing them together made you painfully aware of how small you felt in her world.

“what a couple, huh?” a staff member mumbled to you.

“yeah, i guess,” you turned away, unable to watch any longer.

it was a reminder of why you’d made your decision: you didn’t belong here. you were just a temporary part of her life, someone who would eventually be replaced by someone like jake or hiroshi — someone who fit in.

later that night, as you both drove back to her residence, sana seemed unusually quiet. you could sense that she had noticed your change in mood, but you weren’t ready to talk about it.

not yet.

“y/n my love,” she finally said as you reached her front door, her voice hesitant. “are you okay? you’ve been distant all night.”

“i’m fine,” you lied, avoiding her gaze. “just tired.”

“is it…about jake?” she asked, her tone soft, as if afraid of your answer.

you hesitated, then shook your head. “it’s not just him. it’s everything, sana. all of this — your world, the people in it. it’s too different from mine.”

“but i don’t care about that,” she insisted, stepping closer. “i care about you.”

“and that’s exactly why i have to leave,” you said, your voice breaking. “i don’t want to be the one who holds you back, the one who can’t match up to the life you deserve.”

“you’re not holding me back,” she protested, tears welling up in her eyes. “you’re the only real thing in my life.”

“but i’ll always be just the bodyguard,” you said, your heart shattering with every word. “and you’ll always be the heiress.”

“you’re more than that,” she pleaded, grabbing your arm. “can’t you see that?”

“i can’t,” you whispered, your voice filled with pain. “because this will never work, not in the way you want it to.”

she stared at you, her expression a mix of desperation and heartbreak. “so, that’s it? you’ve already made up your mind?”

“yes,” you admitted, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “i have.”

“so, when were you going to tell me?” she asked, voice cracking but her stare was cold.

“i was going to tell you,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible above the hum of the car engine. “i just didn’t know how.”

“didn’t know how?” she repeated, her tone turning sharp. “you were just going to disappear without even talking to me?”

“it’s not like that!”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her eyes blazing with hurt and betrayal. “are you just like everyone else, y/n? were you using me this whole time?”

“no,” you said, feeling a surge of desperation. “you know that’s not true.”

“then why?” she asked, her voice breaking. “why are you leaving?”

“because i don’t belong in your world,” you said, your own voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “i’ve told you that over and over again.”

“i never cared about that,” she shouted, her face flushed with anger and tears. “i care about you, y/n. i’ve given you everything i have, and it still isn’t enough?”

“that’s not fair,” you shot back, feeling your own anger rise. “it’s not about what you’ve given me. it’s about what i can’t give you. you’ll always have to explain why you’re with someone like me.”

“i never asked you to be anything else!” she yelled, her voice breaking completely. “i just wanted you to stay.”

“and that’s what makes this so hard,” you said, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “i love you, sana. but loving you isn’t enough to make this work.”

the car pulled up to the mansion, but neither of you moved to get out. the driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, unsure of what to do.

“get out,” sana said suddenly, her voice low but firm.

you hesitated, unsure if she meant it literally or figuratively. “sana —”

“get out,” she repeated, her voice rising. “we’re finishing this conversation inside.”

you both stepped out of the car, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. she stormed up the steps, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor and you followed, feeling the impending doom settle in your chest.

as soon as you were inside the mansion, the argument erupted again.

“you’re a coward,” she spat, her voice echoing through the grand hall. “you’re just running away because it’s easier than staying.”

“it’s not about running away,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “it’s about facing reality.”

“reality?” she laughed bitterly, her eyes wild with emotion. “the reality is that you’re too scared to take a chance on us.”

“because i know how this ends,” you said, your own voice rising now. “it ends with me being a burden in your life, a constant reminder of what doesn’t fit.”

“you’re not a burden!” she screamed, her face streaked with tears. “you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like me, not just the heiress, not just the brand.”

the sound of footsteps approaching caught both of your attention, and you turned to see mr. and mrs. minatozaki standing at the top of the grand staircase, looking shocked and concerned.

“what’s going on here?” mrs. minatozaki asked, her voice filled with alarm.

“stay out of this, mother,” sana said, her voice raw. “this is between me and y/n.”

“sana,” her father tried to interject, his voice gentle. “we can talk about this calmly —”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she cut him off, her eyes fixed on you. “y/n wants to leave. she doesn’t think she belongs here.”

“because i don’t,” you said quietly, your voice filled with an agonising finality. “i’ll never be able to give you the life you deserve.”

“what i deserve?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “what i deserve is to be with someone who loves me enough to stay.”

“and what if that love isn’t enough?” you asked, your heart breaking as the words left your lips. “what if it only causes more pain?”

“then we face it together,” she said, her voice softening for the first time. “but you’ve already given up, you decided for us without even talking to me.”

the truth in her words was undeniable and it left you feeling exposed and helpless. you had given up; not because you didn’t love her, but because you were terrified of what loving her meant.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

her expression hardened again, a mix of anger, heartbreak and resignation. “sorry isn’t enough.”

“i know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

she stared at you for a long moment, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. then, with a coldness that felt like a final blow, she uttered the word that shattered everything between you.

“leave.”

“sana, please —”

“i said, leave,” she repeated, her voice empty now. “before i regret you.”

you didn’t move for a moment, unable to believe it was really ending like this but her eyes were dead serious and you knew there was no room for negotiation.

with a final look, you turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling like a nail in your heart. you could hear her sobs behind you, raw and uncontrollable, but you didn’t turn back.

it was for the better.

as the mansion doors closed behind you, the enormity of what you’d lost crashed over you like a wave. you had thought leaving would hurt less than staying, but now, as you stood on the steps of the life you could have had, you realised you had never been more wrong.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it had been nearly two months since you left the minatozaki mansion, but the wounds felt as fresh as ever. you were still trying to move forward, but most days felt like you were just treading water, struggling to keep from sinking beneath the weight of your own heartbreak.

you had saved up enough money to pay for the next six months of rent and food, but there was no joy in the security it offered. it just felt like a countdown to more loneliness.

despite your efforts to stay away from news about sana, you couldn’t avoid the headlines completely.

she had been partying non-stop, her face appearing on every tabloid cover — smiling but empty-eyed, reckless but lost. there were photos of her stumbling out of clubs, surrounded by people who seemed more like shadows than friends. one image stood out in particular: sana, arm-in-arm with jake, her ex, looking disheveled and drained.

the caption suggested they were rekindling their romance, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it — or perhaps, you didn’t want to.

you tried to drown your sorrows in alcohol, spending most nights at a small bar nearby. it was dark and dingy, a stark contrast to the places you’d been with sana, but it felt fitting. the drinks were cheap, and the bartender never asked questions.

“are you okay?” jihyo asked one night when she found you slumped over your kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside you. her voice was full of worry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie.

“no,” you admitted, your voice hollow. “i’m not.”

“this isn’t like you, y/n,” she said, her eyes filled with concern. “you’re not the type to just give up.”

“maybe i am now,” you replied, taking another swig from the bottle. “maybe i never should’ve tried in the first place.”

jihyo reached out, her hand squeezing yours. “we’re here for you, okay? no matter what.”

their support felt distant, muted by the constant ache of missing sana. you knew your friends were worried; how you barely ate, how you showed up to gatherings disheveled and silent, a shadow of who you used to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, when you were nursing a hangover from another lonely night at the bar, your phone rang. it was an unknown number, and you hesitated before answering.

“hello?”

“y/n?” a familiar voice asked, tentative but warm. it was mrs. minatozaki.

“yes, this is y/n,” you confirmed, surprised. “mrs. minatozaki?”

“i’m sorry to call you like this,” she began gently. “but my husband and i were hoping you could come to the mansion. there’s something we need to discuss with you.”

you felt a wave of apprehension, unsure of what to expect. but something in her tone; soft, almost pleading — made it impossible for you to say no.

“i’ll be there,” you agreed quietly.

the mansion felt as imposing as ever when you arrived, its grandeur a stark reminder of the world you had tried to leave behind. you were greeted by the familiar staff, who offered polite smiles before leading you to a cozy sitting room. mrs. minatozaki was already seated on a velvet armchair, her husband standing beside her with a solemn expression.

“thank you for coming, y/n,” mrs. minatozaki said warmly, gesturing for you to sit. “we know this isn’t easy for you.”

“what’s going on?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “is it about sana?”

“yes,” mr. minatozaki replied, his tone serious but gentle. “she’s…not doing well. we’re very worried about her.”

“we thought she would eventually find a way to cope,” mrs. minatozaki added, her voice breaking slightly. “but it’s clear now that she’s just trying to numb the pain.”

you felt a stab of guilt, even though you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t mean to hurt her like this.”

“we know,” mr. minatozaki said softly. “and that’s why we wanted to talk to you.”

“sana has always been a passionate person,” mrs. minatozaki continued. “but she’s never loved anyone the way she loves you. we’ve seen her with past lovers — there was never this depth of feeling, never this kind of vulnerability.”

her words hit you hard, and you struggled to process them. “but i don’t fit into this world,” you said, your voice filled with insecurity. “i’m just —“

“and that’s exactly why we accept you,” mr. minatozaki said firmly. “you love our daughter for who she is, not for what she represents. we don’t care about the gossip or the opinions of others. we care about her happiness.”

“it’s true,” mrs. minatozaki added, her eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “we want you to know that you have our support completely.”

tears welled up in your eyes at their words, the acceptance and understanding you’d never thought you’d receive.

“thank you,” you whispered, overwhelmed. “i just…i don’t know if she’ll want me back.”

before they could respond, the sound of commotion erupted from the foyer. voices, urgent and alarmed, echoed through the mansion’s grand halls.

“what’s happening?” mrs. minatozaki asked, standing up abruptly.

a moment later, two security guards entered the room, struggling to support a barely-conscious sana. her makeup was smudged, her hair disheveled, and her eyes half-closed. she was clearly intoxicated, her legs barely able to hold her weight.

“sana!” mrs. minatozaki exclaimed, rushing over.

“we found her like this outside a club,” one of the guards explained apologetically. “she insisted on coming home.”

your heart broke at the sight of her, the reckless desperation evident in every inch of her being. without a second thought, you stepped forward.

“let me take care of her,” you said softly, moving to her side.

sana’s eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused, clouded by alcohol and exhaustion. “y/n?” she slurred, her voice thick with confusion.

“it’s me,” you said gently, your hand brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “i’m here.”

“no, you’re not real,” she mumbled, her head lolling against your shoulder. “you’re just… another dream.”

“i’m real,” you insisted. “i promise, i’m real.”

her body went limp against you, and you struggled to support her weight. with help from the guards, you managed to get her upstairs and into her bedroom. she collapsed onto the bed, her breaths shallow and uneven.

you stayed by her side through the night, watching over her as she tossed and turned in her sleep. her face was flushed, her expression troubled even in unconsciousness. you couldn’t help but reach out, your fingers lightly tracing the back of her hand, hoping that somehow, your touch could offer her peace.

the next morning, sana stirred awake, her head pounding and her mouth dry. she squinted against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, her vision slowly focusing. when she saw you sitting beside the bed, her eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over her.

“y/n?” she asked, her voice hoarse and hesitant.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her eyes. “how are you feeling?”

“like shit,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “but why…why are you here?”

“your parents called me,” you explained gently. “they were worried about you. i was worried too.”

sana’s eyes filled with tears, her shoulders shaking with the weight of everything she’d been holding back. “i thought i lost you,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “i thought you were really gone.”

“i thought i was gone too,” you admitted, your own tears falling. “but i realised that leaving you hurt more than anything else.”

“you’re not just saying that because my mother asked you to come, are you?” she asked, her vulnerability laid bare.

“no,” you said, reaching out to take her hand. “i’m saying it because i love you. and i want to be with you — no matter what.”

her lips trembled as she tried to hold back more tears. “i want that, too.”

you took a deep breath, feeling the fear and hope collide within you. “if you still want me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your heart. “i want to try again. for real this time.”

sana’s sobs turned into laughter, a mix of relief and disbelief. “of course i want you,” she said, reaching for your hand. “i’m sorry, i’ve always wanted you.”

you pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her body relax against yours. she buried her face in your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

“i’m sorry, too,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “for the photos, for being so reckless. none of it was true, i just wanted to forget.”

“i know,” you said, stroking her hair gently. “but we don’t have to forget. we just have to move forward.”

“together?” she asked, looking up at you with a mix of hope and fear.

“together,” you confirmed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

later that evening, as you lay tangled in each other’s arms, sana’s breathing slow and steady against your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. it wasn’t going to be easy but you were ready to face it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

[lucysarah-c]

"Those are my fries, and those are yours,"

"Come on! Does it really make a difference if I take just one?" You retorted.

"Settled accounts keep old friends," he mumbled, mouth half full of food.

You giggled as he took off the top bun from his burger, piled on a bunch of fries, and took a huge bite. The scene was downright chaotic, and you burst out laughing. Levi, who normally cared about appearances, was wolfing down the McDonald's meal with an intensity that didn’t quite match the polished image he’d shown earlier, even though that suit probably cost a fortune.

Ketchup stuck to the corner of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning what was so funny. Once he'd swallowed, he muttered, "Eat before the fries get cold. They taste horrible like that."

You couldn't help but reflect on how the night had gone. The House of CB dress you'd bought and saved for a special occasion, the hair you had done at the salon, the makeup you practiced to mimic the subtle but lovely glam of the latest Bridgerton season—none of that had been planned for you to end up in your boyfriend's car, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of fast food from a drive-thru at 11 p.m.

The empty parking lot outside, with snow accumulating, could have been eerie if you weren’t sitting next to Levi. Fries slathered in extra cheddar sauce were scattered everywhere, and Levi shoveled them into his mouth without a care. No lights, no music, but it didn't matter—you felt safe with him, though neither of you was keen on tempting fate by keeping the car lights on in the middle of nowhere.

Taking a bite of your own burger, you chuckled again. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hungry."

Levi paused mid-chew to take a swig of his Coke. "Tch, those posh assholes. They dragged me around for hours—hours! Examples of this, representation of that, and handshakes with whoever. From 3 p.m.! They didn’t even let me grab a sandwich at the reception. Finally, they serve dinner at 10—TEN!" he grumbled, the delay clearly having been the final straw. "And what did they serve? One shrimp, a tiny cube of cheese, and some grass they picked from outside and called a gourmet dinner."

"Rich people don’t eat much; that’s why," you teased. "It’s fancy to have tiny portions on huge plates."

"That’s because they’re all on Ozempic, buying up medicine that people actually need. Fuck them," he muttered.

On any other occasion, Levi would’ve cursed you for eating in his car, but tonight he made an exception. "How are my ice creams?"

Levi glanced outside where the ice creams were stored in the cold air to keep from melting. Processing your words, he turned back to you. "My ice creams? You mean ours."

"Oh, Levi, aren’t you going to gift me one? What kind of gentleman are you?" you teased.

"Right now, I’d bite your arm off if it weren’t for the fact that McDonald’s is still open," he replied with a smirk.

You laughed again. It had been the government holiday party, and you’d been so excited to attend, ready to rub elbows with high society. One of the older women had even told you, "You should've asked for a brand to sponsor your dress, coming as Levi’s plus-one!" Erwin had insisted that Levi attend as a representative of the Ackerman family, much to your boyfriend's dismay. Uri had agreed, probably because any option was better than Kenny for a formal event.

"Erwin will kill you when he finds out," you said, remembering how Levi had messaged you to sneak out. You’d never imagined he’d drag you through a bathroom window, across the estate grounds, and into his car for a McDonald’s run. "What about Uri? I ran into him during dinner. He was so nice!"

Levi hummed in approval, acknowledging that the old man had always been a saint in his eyes. The only one capable of dealing with Kenny for so many years.

Suddenly, Levi's phone lit up, its ringtone breaking the quiet. "Fuck!" you panicked.

"Don’t answer. If we do, they’ll know I’m reachable," Levi said, ignoring the calls.

Message after message flooded his phone—texts from Uri, Traute, and Erwin: Where are you? Levi, answer the phone ASAP. Come back here this instant.

The calls came in one after another.

"They won’t stop," you muttered. "Maybe we should just tell them—"

"No. They’d send the national guard to drag me back to that snob-filled hell," Levi spat. Despite not picking up, both of you whispered as if the unanswered calls could somehow hear.

At some point, the whole situation became hilarious. You found yourself resting your head on his shoulder, chuckling as the phone buzzed incessantly. Levi kept refusing to answer, and in the midst of it all, you shared sloppy kisses in the darkened car.

"I’ve got an idea…" you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. Levi looked at you, confused, the noise from the phone distracting from the moment you were building.

Casually, you swiped up on the screen and answered. "Levi? Where are—"

With a fake gasp and an exaggerated tone, you moaned, "Ah, Lev—Yes!"

Levi had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he realized what you were doing. "Play along," you whispered. And before you knew it, he began thumping the side door, mimicking the sound of… well, thrusts.

"Harder!" you managed between giggles before the call abruptly ended, leaving both of you in hysterics.

"Well, they’re definitely not calling anymore," Levi shook his head, still grinning, knowing full well this prank wouldn’t go unpunished.

"You can always say we were busy working on the Ackerman heir they keep asking for," you teased.

Levi grimaced, entertained by the thought. "I mean…" His hand slid up your thigh, the mood shifting as his touch grew more insistent. "We could actually be doing that."

Your hips began to move slightly over his lap. A quick glance at the clock—the only light inside the car—showed 12:05 a.m. Finally past midnight. "Whatever the birthday boy wants," you purred.

—

"He picked up? What did he say, sir?" Traute asked irritably in the event staff area, where they were waiting to bring out the enormous, decorated cake for the final part of the evening.

Uri chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I think he’s already celebrating. Let’s just carry on."

(No idea what this is, the idea just pop up in my mind)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[saturnznct]

the sims | dad!jake

➸ note; just a summary of the sims :)

➸ word count; 2189 words

➸ warning(s); accidental pregnancy x2, a bit suggestive, birth & feeding, cryptic pregnancy

enhypen masterlist (lnks will be added later)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you and jake meet when he and jay go to a bar together lol the two of you can’t stop staring at each other and jay, with the help of some liquid courage, convinces jake to go up to you and get your number

so you start hanging out

he’s so shy with you at first because he has such a big crush and you think he’s just adorable

one day he just thinks fuck it and kisses you and the rest is history

you’d been together for seven years and engaged for a few months when you get pregnant

you were usually great with protection but one time you’d run out of condoms and just decided to take the risk

you were terrified to tell him but he was excited, but a bit unsure of what to do

once your little bump and everything shows up he’s obsessed

very touchy, waits on you hand and foot

all the members are super excited, they love sam so another enha baby to love is super exciting

achy is probably the best way to sum up your pregnancy, your back and feet hurt a lot all of the time

when you find out you’re having a girl he gets so giddy

definitely loves a good chat with the bump 

goes all shy and bashful when she responds to him

i don’t imagine him being the type to sing to the baby?? i think he’s much more of a talker 

never ever gets tired of her moving, can literally just picture him at night being the big spoon with his hand on your bump, his chest aches every time she kicks or moves

when she moves around on the scans you can literally see stars in his eyes 

thinks you’re just the cutest when you get big, waddling around in his hoodies 

keeps the latest scan photo in his wallet

your third trimester is in winter so the fireplace in your apartment is on in the evenings

lots of cuddles together

you very rarely feel insecure because jake makes it very clear just how attractive he finds you

it helps that you’re so hormonal that you’re constantly trying to jump his bones and he is… very receptive to that 

the two of you decide to have a home birth, you love your apartment so much and its a place of comfort for you

also there’s no hassle or stress with transporting her home from a hospital or packing a bag etc

your labour is pretty nice, as much as it can be

you were only in labour for about 9 hours, and being at home surrounded by your familiar walls with the lights dimmed down

jake of course was incredibly supportive the whole time 

ella ara sim is born 10th april at your home in seoul

jake delivered her in your bathtub, and cuts the cord

the greatest moment of his entire life 

ella is a very chilled baby

feeds happily, is easily soothed

loves her daddy, jake can get her to stop crying faster than anyone

you slightly worry he holds her too much, he likes to sit by your floor to ceiling windows overlooking seoul and talk to her for hours about life and all the fun things you’ll do together when she’s older

he holds her in the early mornings in bed, on his chest or in his arms while he scrolls through his phone

these moments definitely help your relationship, when you’re both tired and drained you just sit together with or without the baby

even if you don’t talk you just have this sense that you’re in this together and you understand each other without word

Jake loves it when you’re able to pump, he loves being the one to give her bottles 

ella is only the second enha baby after sam and jay is very insistent on regular playdates, he wants them to be besties so bad 

they’re actually quite indifferent to each other lol 

shows her off to everyone who will look

has a little silver ‘e’ necklace 

when she’s about a year old she visits australia for the first time

jake fusses over her like crazy, it’s australian summer so he’s constantly smothering her with suncream and she’s got her lil bucket hat on

holds her in the pool in his family’s backyard, gently lifting her up and dunking her legs in and out of the water while she giggles like crazy

takes her to meet koalas 

he loves her to be girly, thinks she’s just the cutest when she has cute little floral clothes 

her giggles are his favourite sound in the whole world

purposely tickles her so that she giggles

once he tickles her for so long that she starts coughing and you get annoyed with him

doesn’t tickle her for a while after that

actually doesn’t mind playing with her, will happily sink hours into tea parties and roleplay

the BIGGEST daddy girl

her first word is dada

first steps are towards jake 

jake is so fucking happy

later that night he just sobs and thanks you over and over and over for giving him his perfect baby girl 

always wants to be in his arms or on his lap

jake always allows her to climb all over him and will smother her with kisses 

when ella is 2 you guys finally get married, she’s one of your little bridesmaids

jake spends a lot of time dancing with her during the reception

you enjoy married life for a while, and when ella is 3, jake begins to miss her baby days

so, the two of you decide to start trying again

about 8-9 months later you’re pregnant 

jake is so so excited he wants to tell el straight away but you shut him down lmao 

eventually when you do tell her jake is so excited, his eyes are practically sparkling when he tells her she’s going to be a big sister

you’re pretty much bed bound and sick for the first 4-5 months, you throw up a lot

you get a lot of migraines

jake is great as usual

you and jake had talked about kids before having ella and both of you hoped for at least one of each, so when you found it it was a boy you were so happy

jake suggests his name, he just thinks its so cute

declan daehyun sim is born 1st october at your home in seoul, this time on your bed

jake also delivers him and cuts his cord

slightly more challenging baby

cries often for no real reason, no matter what you do he just cries

lots of sleepless nights

ella’s in primary school at this point so lots of daytime naps together

ella actually isn’t too jealous or anything, she comes and sits quietly next to you or jake when you’re holding declan and just watches him

she likes to hold him herself 

dec is literally jake’s twin, your genes did not stand a single fucking chance 

jake’s nose, jake’s eyes, jake’s mouth, jake’s hair 

gets more and more clear as he grows into a toddler, everyone comments on it

i feel like jake is just as much of a boy dad as he is a girl dad like he has two sides

loves playing legos and football with dec

when dec is born you move into your ‘forever home’, a big apartment in seoul

there’s a pool in your apartment complex so you best believe most nights after dinner jake takes the kids down

when declan is around 18 months, you start throwing up and it doesn’t stop for a couple of weeks and you and jake are like… what the hell

you were on birth control that didn’t give you periods so you didn’t think it would be pregnancy but alas…

you go to the doctor and you’re 5 months pregnant and you had no idea

bit of a shock of course

you don’t know how to react at first 

like dec is still so young, your birth control had clearly failed, you only had 4 months to prepare

but there obviously isn’t much you can really do other than just start gearing up for your baby’s arrival

you get a bump and some symptoms soon after you find out

pregnancy starts kicking your ass during the third trimester though, doesn’t help you’re running after declan all day

jake of course is the best like you don’t even need to say anything, if you’re having a hard day he can just tell and will do anything to alleviate your stress

like if declan is being a lil shit and you’re stressed jake will seamlessly distract him with something else

weirdly good at convincing declan he needs a nap 

you decide to keep the gender a surprise because you know this will definitely be your last one and you’ve had enough surprises yk  

eve sim was born at your home 8th september

born on your bed

jake delivers her and cuts the cord

you’re both ecstatic with another girl, she’s the double of ella as a baby

you don’t give her a name until she’s a couple of days old, jake starts calling her evie cause he thinks it sounds cute, you decide on eve cause it works in korean too 

ella loves eve, she’s so excited to have a sister

declan is not so sure

he’s a bit jealous, especially since he’s still a little baby himself

is a little bratty about it too

you’ll sit down to feed eve and he’ll come up to you and start whining and tugging on your pants

cue jake waltzing in to distract him

i don’t think jake would be very strict

he is very much their friend and ally and they know that 

hates punishments and discipline, i mean he’ll dish it out but really struggles to stay strong when they cry or get upset

will apologise for having to do it afterwards

i don’t think he would be a very pushy parent, wouldn’t be too strict about grades or extra curriculars, but will support them in whatever it is 

the kids go to swimming lessons, but jake loves to help them in your pool at home, it reminds him of his childhood in Australia

definitely the type to just launch them in the air much to your horror 

loves it when the kids come to see a concert, just the knowledge that the kids are in the crowd gives him a little extra energy

engene posting on twitter that jake looks so happy

everything is all about the kids backstage, if they’re there then jake and the members are smothering them in attention

if he goes on your without them he always comes back with toys

accidentally starts a tradition of buying a teddy in each place he goes 

when you pick them up from school their plaits and ponytails and what have you obviously fell out hours ago

eve and ruby are a few months apart in age so they are besties of course 

jake would absolutely say the worst part of being a father is the kids growing up, when they get too big for him to hold and cuddle properly is when his heart hurts when he looks at them

he loves babies so much and always always misses the baby days but seeing his kids grow into independent, strong willed, talented individuals makes him so proud

they’re always his baby girls/boy

even when they’re older he will still give them cuddles when they’re sad

the kids go to australia maybe once a year or every other year, visit jake’s family

but you settle in a big apartment in seoul

kids speak a mix of english and korean at home, there’s no real pattern to it

they speak english amongst each other but i think with jake they mix it up

they also use mainly english names at home, you and jake like them more

they use korean and korean names pretty much anywhere outside the house

although ella does get called el by the members and jake pretty much at all times 

overall the sim family is so so so full of love <3

[cosmicdahlias]

🌶️ford pines x reader headcanons🌶️

part 4

minors dni

• enjoys just looking at your body when you fuck and is genuinely stunned by it every time like it’s his first time seeing it

• loves to light candles to set the mood. thinks you look so beautiful illuminated by the soft glow

• absolutely loses it when you look up at him while he’s fucking you

• sometimes when he hugs you from behind he presses his bulge up against your ass

• when he doesn’t have work to do he loves spending all day in bed buried inside you

• loves watching his cum drip out of you

• secretly into cnc. afraid to tell you

• when he cums he is LOUD

• had sex dreams about you before you started dating. woke up rock hard and had to take care of it just to go back to sleep

• will not hesitate to clear a table to bend you over on

• loves when you get on top, gets twice as hard from the view

• always telling you how good you feel

“god, y/n. you feel so warm and tight.”

• very thick, lowkey hurts your jaw when you suck him off

• loves to give you punishingly slow strokes making you shake and plead for him to go faster, he holds out at first because he loves watching you beg

• has two modes. either gentle passionate love making or brutal aggressive fucking. you love both

• sometimes you tease him by rubbing his cock over his pants. drives him wild

• buys you lingerie. thinks you look so beautiful in it

• one time you bit down on his shoulder so hard while you were cumming that you drew blood, he came instantly

• loves mutual masturbation, watching you touch yourself is so hot to him

• owns a pair of handcuffs that he stole from an interdimensional cop. uses them on you when he fucks you from behind

• a game you like to play is having him read out loud while you suck him off and see how long he can keep it together without moaning or losing focus

• there’s no greater feeling to him than when you cum around his cock

• loves when you grip his hair while he eats you out

• wraps his hand around your neck while you ride him

• fucks you first thing in the morning and then serves you breakfast in bed

• had phone sex with you whenever he could get reception on his adventures with stan

• you did a strip tease for him and his jaw did not leave the floor

• makes you take his fingers in your mouth after he fingers you

• worships you the entire time. does not stop telling you how gorgeous you are

“fuck baby you’re so beautiful, i could look at you forever”

• once tried to see how many times he could make you orgasm in an hour “for research”. you were a shaking writhing mess by the end of it

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 14: cellar

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

TW: Mentions of blood at the end (mildly gross), vomit, Spencer is somewhat rude but it's for the sake of the plot

Throughout his life, Spencer Reid had always been the smartest person in the room. There was no doubt about that, right? He always had the correct answer.

Until you came along.

“Doctor, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Any indication that the suspect kept them here.”

He always answered you reluctantly, and although he didn’t want to admit it, he hated having to team up with you.

There wouldn’t have been a problem if you were just someone above average intelligence, he could tolerate that. But the problem was that you were smarter than him. Maybe your IQ was slightly lower than his, but the main issue was that you were twice as creative. You always found the strangest but most effective solutions, and your mind was always racing a mile a minute. You seemed to have boundless energy, and when you managed to focus, you became the most meticulous person on Earth.

And he couldn’t stand that someone else had come along and displaced him. He was the brains of the team, that was his role. But with you there, what was he now?

You both cautiously descended into the basement of the house, guns drawn in case the worst happened. However, you found yourself in an incredibly luxurious room, dimly lit and apparently housing an extensive wine cellar.

“Lucky us. If we don’t find anything, at least we can steal a few bottles.”

“Everything here is evidence. Don’t touch anything without gloves.”

“I’m aware of that, Doctor. It’s called a sense of humor.”

You seemed to exasperate him on purpose every time, and he made an effort to simply ignore the feeling.

You both split up to search for anything, and meanwhile, you admired the elements around you. The wines were behind some kind of glass display, and LED lights illuminated the space.

You wondered how much it had cost Hotch to get a warrant for the space belonging to a millionaire, although it was probably because you already had a solid profile and some circumstantial evidence.

You thought the guy wouldn’t be so stupid as to keep the women in that place, and that the purpose was likely human trafficking or some other sick thing elites do.

“Find anything?” your partner asked. He only spoke to you when strictly necessary.

“Nothing. You?”

“Nothing suspicious.”

You both sighed at the same time. If you had been a little less resentful, you might have noticed how similar you were, even sharing some mannerisms.

“We should tell Hotch. Maybe we’ll have better luck later.”

You started walking toward the stairs, resigned, but when you pushed the wooden door, you couldn’t open it.

“It’s stuck.”

“Are you doing it right?”

“I’m not an idiot, Doctor. I know how to open a door.”

“Well, excuse me, Doctor. It’s just that physiologically, there are physical differences between us, so I assumed you might need help.”

“I didn’t know you were a misogynist.”

“I’m not a misogynist.”

“Oh, so it’s something personal. Got it. You don’t hate all women, just this one in particular.”

“It’s locked,” Spencer muttered to himself after trying to push with all his strength.

“Wow! You reinvent the wheel, honey. You’re brilliant.”

Your sarcasm irritated him, and everything about you frustrated him. He never thought he could feel so much for someone until he met you.

“Where are you going?”

“Downstairs, duh. You don’t expect the door to magically open if I just stand here, do you?”

Reluctantly, he followed you back down the stairs, and when you both pulled out your phones, you realized there was no signal. If there was no reception, there was no way to call anyone for help.

“We’re fucked,” he muttered quietly.

Rarely did you hear the man curse, but whenever he was with you, that likelihood increased significantly.

With no better idea, you leaned against the wall and stayed silent. Spencer, imitating you, did the same on the opposite wall, next to the wine bottles.

The cellar was just a tiny room, so it amused you that he tried to keep his distance from you even though you could see him the entire time. Still, you said nothing; though you liked to annoy him, you weren’t in the mood right now.

“What are the chances we’ll run out of oxygen?”

“None. It’s not a sealed room, so oxygen can enter through the cracks in the door we came through.”

“Oh.”

You fell silent for a moment, and Spencer thought that was the end of the conversation. Unfortunately for him, you had other plans.

“What if we starve to death?”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re not going to die of starvation. The human body can survive many days without food. In the hypothetical case that we got trapped here, we’d die of dehydration first.”

“Speak for yourself. I see plenty to drink here.”

“Alcohol has the opposite effect, it dehydrates you. That would just make you die faster.”

“It would be an incalculable loss for humanity. They’d lose the FBI’s smartest agent…” you said, and for the first time, he smiled “And you too, of course.”

There was no need for him to respond; his expression told you everything you needed to know.

“It’s impossible to talk to you.”

“Is that why you hate me?” you murmured softly, as if speaking to a child “Because you’re not the smart one anymore?”

“I am the smart one. And I wouldn’t mind sharing that title if the other person wasn’t so cocky.”

“I’m not cocky. I’m just aware of what I know. And let’s be honest, you hate my unconventional way of solving everything. I suppose your condition makes you see everything with pure logic.”

“My what?”

“Your condition,” you repeated as if it were obvious “Autism?”

“I’m not autistic!”

“Have you ever been tested?”

“No.”

“Well, I’d recommend it.”

“Likewise.”

“I’m not autistic. I can handle social situations.”

“Well, there’s something undiagnosed in you that’s definitely off.”

One of your laughs echoed through the room, which only irritated him more.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Spencer didn’t grasp the implications of those words. He was just too annoyed by your defiant attitude to think of anything other than telling you that you really couldn’t make him shut up. However, when he saw the smug smile on your lips, he began to realize his mistake.

You slowly approached him, never breaking eye contact, leaning toward him slightly. Immediately, the man recoiled, his expression showing almost fear at whatever you were planning to do.

With each inch you moved closer, he remained frozen, completely stunned, and just as your breath brushed against his, you reached out to unlock the display case. Carefully, you pulled out one of the bottles and stepped back, nearly laughing at the effect you had on him.

“You know that when you tell someone to ‘make you shut up,’ you’re suggesting they kiss you, right?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is, Reid,” you laughed. The bottle was already open, so you just had to pull the cork, hearing a soft pop.

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” you replied cheekily, raising your eyebrows in a flirtatious way, making him curse under his breath for not realizing his mistake earlier.

You took a deep swig from the bottle, and as soon as the liquid touched your lips, you knew it couldn’t be wine. It had a metallic taste, with a viscous consistency and a salty touch that immediately coated your palate.

It wasn’t wine. It was blood.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Reid shouted when he saw you spit it out to the side. You had dropped the bottle, and it shattered into pieces as it hit the floor.

After seeing you collapse to your knees, vomiting, and noticing the consistency and color of the liquid on the floor, it didn’t take him long to deduce what was happening.

“Check the others,” you choked out, trying to hold back the retching.

Spencer didn’t waste any time and hurried to do what you asked, gently shaking each bottle only to find that they all contained the same thing. Each label had a date on it, and he felt a shiver run down his spine when he realized what it meant: it wasn’t the aging date, it was the birth year of the victims.

“Reid?” you heard a male voice call from outside. The same voice said your name, and that’s when Morgan appeared at the top of the stairs.

You didn’t plan on staying there after what had happened. You needed air, water, and to wash your mouth and hands… take a shower, if necessary.

As best you could, you stumbled outside, walking past the other agents who asked how you were, heading straight for the bathroom, ready to empty the remaining contents of your stomach into the toilet.

In the midst of it all, you felt someone enter the room, carefully holding your hair with one hand and supporting your back with the other.

“Easy,” the person whispered. It was Reid.

He patiently waited until you finished, then handed you a plastic bottle filled with water. You took a sip, gargled, and spat it out, repeating the process several times.

You saw your partner kneeling beside you with a patient but clearly concerned expression, and to his surprise, you smiled at him.

“I guess that’s what I get for being an alcoholic, huh?”

“I warned you not to drink it.”

“And you’re always right, aren’t you?” you teased, but there was a silent gratitude in your eyes.

At least later, you could remind him that thanks to you, they found enough evidence to arrest the criminal.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Imaginary

G/N. Some fluff cos I miss him too. Masterlists

Everyone has heard about you in Workers.

At first, they had thought it was just the delusional ramblings of their executive, Ryuhei Kuroda.

Finally driven mad after Mitsuki's absence and making up tall tales about a mysterious new person to take the edge off the heartache.

You're the cutest, the prettiest, the smartest he would gush to anyone within earshot. You had a smile that could light up the darkest corner and a warmth that could thaw the coldest person.

Supposedly.

Kenta has had the misfortune to hear all about this. And Mandeok. And Yuseong. And Eugene.

Your name has been crowbarred into conversations that really have nothing to do with you. Into meetings and conferences and awkward journeys in the car that no matter how many times Ryuhei is asked to shut up, he will still find a way to bring you up.

Most of it should have been easy to ignore. His friends and colleagues figured these made up stories would soon fade away.

Then the delusion worsened.

Ryuhei's phone wallpaper was changed to a picture of the two of you. The sun's glare was a bit too full to make out all your features, filter a bit too strong, and well-

It all seemed a bit too fake. Whether with the power of Photoshop or AI was anyone's guess.

The lower level workers nodded and smiled politely whenever Ryuhei showed them that picture of you. All the senior team just ignored him.

And it was sorta easy to ignore. Except the number of pictures grew and grew.

Until it becomes obvious that you are real or Ryuhei is spending a psychotic amount of time creating fake couple pics. The evidence that you are not the result of his imagination working overtime is beginning to look pretty indisputable, yet no-one truly, one hundred percent, ruled out the latter.

"Very good," Eugene comments, not even looking and pushing Ryuhei's phone away when it is thrust in his face.

Ryuhei beams. "Thanks!"

.

.

The truth startles everyone one evening.

As the Workers employees finish for their day, making their way out of the building and starting their commute home, they spot you waiting in the reception area.

How could they not recognise you? Ryuhei has been showing your face around constantly.

You... You are so much sweeter than Ryuhei is used to. None of the edge or malice that Mitsuki had. One look at you and it's obvious.

No air of manipulation or wrong-doing. Definitely not a likely candidate to drug a man and erase his memories.

Someone normal, without the baggage that comes with their sort of lifestyle.

And maybe with you and Ryuhei, opposites attract.

Eugene's eyes flicker towards you as he walks past. Mandeok, flanking his left, manages to control his jaw from dropping and Yuseong, on the right, shrugs.

Kenta arrives a couple minutes later and double takes. Confusion clouds his features. He stares for a beat too long to be considered polite then also leaves.

You don't notice Kenta or any of the odd looks diverted your way. Your eyes are glued to your phone, soft smile on your face as a series of texts and selfies from Ryuhei come through:

😣😭

Soooorry 😭😭

Just finishing work

*Photo of Ryuhei on the verge of tears in an empty office and a laptop glares behind him*

I hate that you have to wait for me

I hate not seeing you

I hate Eugene

I'll kill him 🤬

Stupid bastard

You're the best

🥰🥰

Thank you for waiting for me ❤️❤️

*Photo of Ryuhei giving you fingers heart and a kissy face*

You text back, short and sweet:

I'll always wait for you

Not even five minutes later, a blur of blonde hair and muscles falls into your lap and wraps you tightly in his arms.

"Fuck work," Ryuhei snarls before turning to you with a toothy grin.

All previous venom is already forgotten as he smothers your face with kisses.

[zyafics]

okay but the tension that would’ve been in the room or even waiting room when rafe showed up??

yes, and ykw, i wanna write this

rafe's hands are shaking when he walks up the reception's desk. the low beeps of pagers hung on nurses and low-volume buzz of the waiting room's tv contrasts the racing beats of his heart.

the receptionist looks up at him, offering a gentle smile as rafe picks up the plastic pen and scrawled his name across the sheet. it's terrible. he doesn't even know he completed the rest of cameron before it flattens into a long scribbled line. when he lays the writing instrument back down on clipboard, the woman picks it up—reciting his name before asking for his purpose of visit.

he says your name.

she types something into the ancient computer, which blinks and blinks with anticipation before a catalog prints. the woman recites your name—to clarify, to check, or to taunt him, he doesn't know—before iterating your room number.

he's never made his way down the hallway so quick.

his hands are clammy by his side. his pulse in his throat. he can feel the heavy weight of each step behind his gait, the way he's moving closer and closer to your room. and just as he's about two doors away, someone opens the door—and cleo slides out.

her eyes widen at she sees you. before it shifts into a protected look and she marches up to you. "she's not—"

"i need to see her—"

"she's not responding—"

"i need to see her—"

"rafe, you should leave—"

"i need to see her."

he didn't know how much time he can repeat it before he snaps. he's already hanging on a thin line, one on the verge of breaking with just the right tug, and cleo is pulling the thread with precision. he doesn't boast hatred for the pogue, not by a long shot—because he knows all this defensiveness comes from being your appointed best friend—but he won't lie and say she didn't tick him off.

cleo wires her jaw shut, running her hands down her cargo pants. she looks away, rafe seeing nothing but the hardened profile of her face, as she contemplates. she's acting as if she's security. as if the person inside that room—you—needed protection from him. it surges a line of irritation up his chest, and rafe can't stop himself before saying.

"she needs me."

cleo's expression snaps to rafe and a heat of defiance flickers through her gaze. "needs you?" she repeats lowly, the slip of her bahamian accent cutting at her punctuation. "she needed you hours ago, rafe. you weren't there."

"i didn't know."

"you didn't know or you didn't care?"

rafe huffs at the accusation. "i told you, my dad took my phone—"

"sure," cleo scoffs, before crossing her arms. "and all those other times you didn't respond to her, that was daddy's fault too?"

he says nothing. can offer nothing. he doesn't know how much cleo knows about your relationship with him, but he won't put it past her to know too much.

and him not being able to say anything? it's because she's not wrong.

that's the worse fucking part.

rafe claps his hands together. almost timidly. almost in desperate. before he looks at the girl who blocks his path. "look. i know you don't trust me, and i get it—but that's my girl. that's my kid. and whether or not you want me in there isn't up to you, it's her. just let me see her, once." and he pauses, before he adds. the plead on his tongue. "please."

cleo says nothing. for the longest time. and each stretch of a second—fuck, even a millisecond—feels like a knife to the gut. he just wants to see you. see your face. make sure, in some capacity, that you're okay. that's all he needs to know. he'll be damned if he left the hospital without it.

and finally, she concedes. cleo steps to the side, allowing rafe to grab the knob of the door with a twist. and slowly, with his pulse still in his throat, he steps inside.

cleo follows quietly behind.

the room is sterile and white. the windows are covered with a sheen curtain, and there's a consistent beat that echoes from the monitor. a low hum buzzes from the corner of the room—the tv flipped to a random channel—and as rafe's eyes cascades down everything else first, he finally lands on you.

you laid on the hospital bed. emotionless. wordless. breathless. the IV is hooked to your arm as you stared into the vast nothingness of the world, blankness that coats your features and an resignation he never see on your face.

you didn't see him at first. didn't even acknowledge the change in cleo leaving the room before returning. but as your eyes lift up, climbing up the slow built of your boyfriend—your ex-boyfriend—your breath finally hitches in your throat as you reach his face.

"hi, baby."

this is ass, ok, i written this in like 20 mins because i have to go to work <3

[steinfellds]

The Greetings

Pairing: Mobboss!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Summary: After viewing numerous pets without finding any that sparked their interest, Natasha finally encounters you — an untrained mutt.

Contents: Dark themes, human trafficking, heavy pet play, face slapping, gagging, gun threats, throat-fucking, death threats, mentions of torture, suggestions of abuse, bruising, being kept in kennels.

a/n: this is the first part of the series :3 this series may or may not be abandoned but we'll see how long my motivation lasts for.

Unbreakable Ties Masterlist

The loud footsteps that echoed around the hallway made you shove yourself into the corner of your kennel. You were used to hearing loud footsteps, but these ones were unfamiliar, and that scared you.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff. These ones are untrained, let me show you to our next holding section,” The desperate pleas of your seller only increased your fear.

The footsteps came to a halt.

“I thought I made myself clear. We are looking for something very specific, and we do not care for how untrained it is. Do you understand me, or will I have to repeat myself for a third time?”

The voice was of a woman. Her tone was clipped and full of irritation.

“Yes, I understand. Apologises,”

You heard the familiar noise of a kennel being unlocked and the woman’s quiet remarks. You assumed she didn’t want that pet as she let out a huff before the loud slam of the cage door.

She checked many other pets, gaining the same reaction as the last. It wasn’t until she stepped in front of your kennel that you could finally get a good look at her.

You could tell by her appearance that she was rich and important. She wore a dark black suit and her hair sat neatly above her shoulders. There was so much confidence and power radiating off her. Your seller looked like a puny piece of meat standing next to her.

Your kennel was unlocked, and the woman stepped inside. You shoved your naked body further into the corner.

The woman crouched in front of you, slowly checking you over. She grabbed onto your arm, running her fingers over your dark bruises. She pushed down slightly, making you cry out in discomfort. She smiled at that.

Her fingers tapped your chin, “Open,”

Your eyes narrowed at her request and your jaw stayed in place.

She didn’t like that. She gripped painfully tight on your chin, “Open your mouth,”

You complied with a small grumble.

She checked over your teeth, making sure everything was healthy – which it was. She surprised you when she shoved two fingers down your throat, immediately making you recoil and gag.

“Relax your throat,” She instructed, throat-fucking you.

Tears filled your eyes, and you shake your head, still trying to pull away from her. Her spare hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, keeping you in place. After a few seconds, she pulled away, and you gasped for air.

“Has this one had any training?” She questioned your seller, wiping her wet fingers on your thighs.

“She’s had some, but she isn’t very receptive to it.” He explained, “She normally bites and scratches. I’m surprised that she hasn’t done that to you,”

The woman hummed and pulled out her phone, opening to her camera. Her finger hooked around your chin, tilting your head towards to the camera and snapping a photo. You shifted uncomfortably.

Her phone immediately pinged with notifications.

“We’ll take her,” The woman stood and turned towards your seller, slipping her phone into her pocket.

His face was full of shock, obviously not expecting her to settle on you.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Are you questioning my ability to make decisions?” She snapped.

He shook his head, “Of course not! I’ll get her ready for you,”

You cowered at those words. You didn’t want to be alone with him, not after last time. The woman didn’t seem to notice, but your seller did.

The woman nodded and left.

Your sellers face turned sour, and he glared at you. He pulled out a collar and a lead, wrapping the collar around your neck and clipping the lead.

“You made me look like an idiot in front of her. Do you even know who she is?” He hisses, “Natasha fucking Romanoff, the most powerful mob boss in the city. God, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just buying you to torture you and eventually kill you. I hope that happens, bitch.”

Before you can stop yourself, your mouth wrapped around his hand, and you bit down. Hard. His hand immediately met your cheek, forcing you to drop his hand and pull away.

A scorching pain spread across your cheek. You tried to control your tears, but it was hopeless. Tears fell and you sniffled loudly.

He raised his hand, ready to deliver another hit “Stupid-“

The feeling of a gun being shoved against his head and the sound of the safety being turned off made him freeze.

Natasha stood behind him with a gun pointed at his head and a terrifying glare painted on her face. She grabbed him by his shirt collar and tossed him into the wall. He let out a grunt and stared at her with fearful eyes.

“Touch my property again and I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” She harshly dug the tip of her gun into his temple, “Or worse, Wanda will, and I’m sure you know how violent my wife can be.”

Even with her anger not directed at you, it still scared you. The last thing you wanted was to be on the receiving end of it. The mention of the new name made you curious. Did Natasha send that picture of you to Wanda? Why didn’t Wanda come in with Natasha?

“I-I’m so sorry, Ms. Romanoff.” He spluttered.

He glanced over at you, and you had enough time to poke your tongue out before Natasha pulled his gaze back to her.

“Don’t look at her,” She commanded.

You swore you heard him whimper from fear.

“Now, get the hell out of here before I change my mind and kill you,”

He quickly nodded and ran off.

Natasha crouched in front of you, running her thumb over your sore cheek. It was going to leave a bruise.

Natasha stood, picked your leash from the floor, and tugged on it. You didn’t want to keep her waiting, so you obediently crawled toward her.

You kept your head low as you exited the store, the words of your seller replaying in your mind. You didn't want to be tortured or die. You were scared.

That's when you decided that you weren't going to let that happen to you. Somehow, you were going to escape. If only you knew what a mistake that would be.

Taglist: @alexawynters @tia-thesimp

[bradshawed]

the holiday + rafe .ᐟ   rafe is driving home to tannyhill for the holidays, but a terrible snowstorm hits, and he finds himself holed up in your little bed and breakfast until it passes !!

drew’s masterlist && christmas celly x

warnings — fem!reader, smut, kissing, cockwaming, swearing, slight fluff, Ward

…

Rafe rubbed his eyes in frustration, running his fingers through his wolf cut as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Fucking Sarah” he muttered, checking his phone for the millionth time.

The Cameron heir was driving back to his “home” in Tannyhill for his sister’s wedding. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t step a single foot on that godforsaken island, much less for her but as always, his father insisted.

Rafe took another deep breath, relaxing his hold on the steering wheel of his Jeep. He was going to need more than a few therapy sessions when he got back.

…

The snow storm raged on as the blonde weighed his options, messaging Wheezie to let her know that he was stopping in the next bed and breakfast to let the storm pass.

Lou: dad wants to know what B&B ur at ??

Rafe squinted at the chipped paint on the blue snow covered sign, smiling at the small yellow flowers drawn on with smiley faces.

Ray: Y/N’s Seaside Inn.

Lou: oooo i know where that is, the owner’s super sweet!! tell her i said hi :)

Rafe liked his sister’s message, pocketing his phone before running inside.

…

The door chimed at the sound of a new customer. “One moment!” Rafe leaned his back against the reception desk, turning around to admire the interior. It was cute, he could see why Wheezie liked this place.

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I do for you?” You were cute, your voice was gorgeous and fuck you looked adorable bundled up in your oversized sweater. Maybe coming back for Sarah’s wedding wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had a room available for the night?”

“Hoping to camp it out until the storm passes?”

“Something like that.” He teased leaning on the counter, a renewed twinkle in his eyes.

“Mmhmm, cash or card Mr. Cameron?” You asked, leaning towards the handsome man.

His eyes filled with surprise as you clarified that Wheezie talked about her brother often but clearly failed to mention how handsome he was, bringing a warmth to his cheeks.

“Funny, she happened to say the same about you.”

“Oh yeah, and what else did she happen to say?”

“It’s a secret,” he whispered, zipping his lips and throwing away the key, “you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

“But I’m so impatient, you might have to show me Mr. Cameron.” You both moved towards the stairs that led to the bedrooms, his hands ghosting your hips.

“Jump.”

Your lips were on his, messy, teeth clashing as you devoured each other.

“Key,” you moaned as his mouth sucked on your sweet spot, his hand groping the back pocket of your jeans to retrieve the key to his room. You were made for him.

Once you were both inside, Rafe threw you onto the bed, locking the door behind him.

…

“I’ve missed you.” His admission hanging in the air as he tucked that one strand of hair behind your ear that never seems to listen. You leaned down from your position straddling his cock to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He was made for you.

note — so i took some creative liberties with this and it sort of turned into a smut? and maybe Rafe has been driving back to visit you and Wheezie without telling anyone else. hope you like it sunshine xx

christmas celly masterlist !

[kysslasher]

KINKTOBER:: 2024

DAY 1— scream: gojo satoru

SUMMARY:: Halloween night alone can be scary! but when a phone call comes in on your land line, you can feel the chills in your bones when a raspy voice on the other line meets your ears.

DAY 2— my hero: nanami kento

SUMMARY:: How could you ever repay the man who saved you from near death? By offering to blow him whenever he's off duty.

DAY 3— mr.officer: choso kamo

SUMMARY:: speeding to the reception of your sisters wedding and getting pulled over was not in your plans, but offering to do anything to get out of a ticket with the fine officer who pulled you over was a last ditch effort.

DAY 4— impact play: toji fushiguro

SUMMARY::you and this attitude have gotten on Toji’s nerves for the last time.

DAY 5— just the tip: touya todoroki

SUMMARY:: he never listens. Why would you expect him to listen? Especially when you say just the tip? You never mean it and he knows it.

DAY 6— ride a cowboy: getou suguru

SUMMARY:: being moderately tipsy at the bar, flirting with the sexiest man you've ever seen, snagging the hat off his head without knowing the rule.

DAY 7— lunch: leon kennedy

SUMMARY:: every 2 month the vampire you've grown to have a fling with comes for a quick fix of blood and sex.

DAY 8—deny, deny, deny: eren yeager

SUMMARY:: he loves the you squirm and whine when you don't get your way, the way tears well up in your eyes, or your thighs squeezing together, maybe even the way you beg to get off.

DAY 9— mirrors: ichigo kurosaki

SUMMARY:: after a day of shopping you decide to try on a few new outfits and a bit of lingerie you bought.

DAY 10— praise: chrollo lucifer

SUMMARY:: after sleeping with chrollo for months and not putting a label on it you grow envious of your friends who brag about their dating lives.

DAY 11—breeding: grimjow Jaegerjaquez

SUMMARY:: grimjow is addicted to the idea of cumming inside you, filling you up with his babies.

DAY 12— sexual feeling: tengen uzui

SUMMARY:: he loves to watch you be completely overtaken by your orgasm, the way your eyes roll back and thighs squeeze around him when you’ve had too much.

DAY 13— hair pulling: byakuya kuchiki

SUMMARY:: he knows that you just got your hair done, and it looks great! But he would just love it so much better if it was wrapped around his fist while he fucks you.

DAY 14— stripping: subzero

SUMMARY:: while training your grandmaster proposes that each round you lose an item of clothing must go.

DAY 15— distraction: Simon ghost riley

SUMMARY:: you love that your man is a hard worker, but sometimes he just works too hard.

DAY 16— riding: liu kang

SUMMARY:: he loves the way you look on top of him, the way you grip onto him as if it’s your last time.

DAY 17— monster: pyramid head

SUMMARY:: your friends thought it would be funny to make you roam the halls of the silent hill asylum, it was all fun and games until a big monster catches you.

DAY 18— stretching: kung Lao

SUMMARY:: when your boyfriend says that he can’t train without stretching you ask to aid him in his prep.

DAY 19— webcam: roronoa zorro

SUMMARY:: when your roommate gets to drunk she shows you a  camboy she follows, the same night you get into bed thinking about the green haired man and open up the website he streams on with a swiftness.

DAY 20—handcuffs: nightwing

SUMMARY:: why are the villains alway so attracted to nightwing like a magnet? He can’t just let you go…after all you are a villain.

DAY 21— coworkers: captain america

SUMMARY:: is it normal to want to have sex with a close coworker? Steve rogers has been asking himself that for weeks.

DAY 22—manhandling: bucky barnes

SUMMARY:: sometimes he just likes to be rough with you, god you look so good under him while he’s holding you down and making you take it.

DAY 23— power imbalance: Loki laufeyson

SUMMARY:: who are you to deny your king what he wants? When he comes to the maid quarters and demands you aid him.

DAY 24— knife play: the joker

SUMMARY:: he hates when you don’t pay attention him.

DAY 25— threesome: poison ivy, Harley Quinn

SUMMARY:: how you got roped into the tactics of ivy and Harley is beyond you, but it seems in success of a scheme a celebration ensues.

DAY 26— vamp sex: Damon Salvatore

SUMMARY:: being a witch in a small town word is quick to get out, when a Salvatore brother is at your front door requesting your help he has a means of payment for your help.

DAY 27— gambling debt: dean winchester

SUMMARY:: nobody ever told you that it’s a bad idea to make a deal with a hunter because they always come and collect what is owed.

DAY 28— phone sex: suna rintaro

SUMMARY:: meeting a complete stranger at a house party the two of you flirt and exchange numbers, eventually making it back to your place you get yourself off with him on the other line.

DAY 29— edging: kenma kozume

SUMMARY:: you can’t help but tease him, he just looks so above you as you sit between his thighs.

DAY 30— thigh riding: hua cheng

SUMMARY:: sitting on his lap is always nice, being needy and in his lap is another story.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

[the--blackdahlia]

NSFW Alphabet (Beetlejuice x Fem Reader)

So this is the first time I've ever done one of these, so just go easy on me please.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's got to have a smoke after the act is done. Prefers it when your head is lying on his chest. You also wouldn't think he'd be a cuddler, but he surprises you every day.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is a leg man. He's said and shown it a couple of times. He loves seeing you in short skirts. He's also been known to buy you the see-through leggings for when you're at home. (He enjoys all your parts but a good pair of legs really does it for him)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He will cum anywhere. On you, in you, down your throat. It doesn't matter as long as he gets to cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets off on the idea of shrinking you down and fucking you in the model graveyard.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Well, he's over 600 years old, so he's been around a time or two. He absolutely knows what he's doing, and loves learning new things that didn't exist when he was alive.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes it when you ride him. He gets to hold onto your thighs, watch your breasts, see your face. But he is also down for missionary when he wants to be in charge. But he's perfectly find just laying back and letting you do the work.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Sex is probably the only time he is serious. He wants to focus on the pleasure. Now afterward, it's like a dam opening up and he goes back to being a little shit.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well just looking at him, he does not manscape, but you convince him to at least trim. It definitely does match the drapes, and he's damn proud of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When you two are together, he can be the most romantic man. He whispers sweet nothings to you when he's in that moment. You know you're in for some true lovemaking when he brings you roses. They might not always be alive, but it's the thought.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He most definitely jacks off, especially when you two are apart for a while. He might use your psychic connection to watch you. Think phone sex but with better reception.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He 100% has a daddy kink. He loves it the first time you slip up and call him daddy, and he just keeps it going. Also maybe a bit of a voyeur. He has spied on you a few times in the shower. Keeps him going until he can get his hands on you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bedroom, his desk in the call center, the model. Anywhere he can have you, he will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It does not take much to get him going. You could be reading to him and it turns him on. Everything about you does that to him. But the biggest thing is when you get angry. One time, you were cussing up a storm about your boss and your job and he could've came right there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't really like to hurt you. If he accidentally does, it derails the entire thing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The man doesn't have to breathe, so he is great at giving. He literally could go down on you for hours if you would let him. And he's never going to turn down a blowjob from you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the situation. If he has a job to do, it will be fast and rough, pinned against the wall, on the couch, wherever. But if he has the time, he will spend literal hours worshipping your body.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He is totally okay with a quickie. Any chance he gets to fuck you is a chance he's going to take. A little time with you is better than nothing.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Since he's constantly learning the newest trends over the past 600 years, he is definitely down to experiment. But sometimes an old classic goes a long way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Without having to really rest, breathe, or eat, he can go as long as you can, and sometimes even longer. He can be quick when he needs to be.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has a collection of like, medieval sex toys. He doesn't use them on you, mainly because you won't let him. But he loves watching you use your modern ones, and will even take over controlling them. And when you introduced him to the joys of Bluetooth vibrators, he thinks he's finally found heaven.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to wait until you're busy with work, then use your psychic connection to tease you. You can feel his lips on your neck, or his fingers pinching your nipples. You can feel his hands all over you, even though he's nowhere in the room. And he will do that until you summon him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's just loud enough for you to hear. Growls, deep moans, right in your ear. He'll call you baby girl, or another pet name, but only for you to hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He absolutely goes wild when you wear his suit jacket. Even if he drapes it over your shoulders when you're cold, he just can't resist you. To the point, you found lingerie in the black and white stripes. You have to keep buying it because he rips it off you to get to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He has to sit like a whore because he is absolutely packing. He is thick and long, giving you the perfect stretch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a lot of time to make up for. So his sex drive is super high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't need to sleep, but he will lay there quietly while you sleep. Sometimes he lets him at least pretend he's asleep, as long as he gets to lay by you.

[aakeysmash]

Hey! Not sure about this prompt, buuuttt (feel free to ignore). I love your tattoo artist Sukuna au, but I can’t stop thinking about Sukuna being a piercing artist as well… imagine you booked an appointment with him and he comforted you all the way through it, cuz shit hurts. And he texted you after and asked you out on the date (or maybe he asked you out in person right after the appointment) 💔

You're panting, hands on your knees and sweat dripping down your forehead. A drop falls onto the perfectly clean and sterilized floor, which is a weird translucent black that reflects your disheveled image. You are able to look at your form: damn, you look like the hunchback of Notre Dame. The people inside of this studio must really pay for their cleaners.

"D'you want a napkin, doll?" comes a snicker from behind you, a deep voice startling you upright. You curse inside your mind before turning around.

"Yeah, sorry for being late, I had an appoin-" your voice dies when you find yourself facing a menacing looking guy. The contrast between his face tattoos, his eyebrow piercing and his pink hair is giving you whiplash.

"Y/N, I assume. The girl who called me while drunk out of her mind crying for me to please sneak her in this week. Took your sweet time," he says while looking you up and down.

You're embarrassed, but you still manage to respond. "Listen, my friends made me do it. We have a bet going on right now, it has nothing to do with my mental stability while drunk, okay?"

Then he turns around and enters a room without sparing you a second glance. You wait a bit at the reception for him to come back, when he suddenly reappears from the same room and tsks.

"How the fuck am I gonna pierce you if you don't follow me? You gotta pay attention, woman," he says rolling his eyes.

"Man, you could be nicer, you know," you mumble, moving toward him.

"Are you gonna pay me more if I do?" he asks you, bored.

"Hell no," you respond immediately.

"Then sit your pretty little ass on the couch and shut up," he singsongs.

You huff, then do as he says. The reviews of his studio were all positive, talking about how great of a piercer he is, and he's also pretty cheap for being so known. You're going to ignore his rudeness.

"So, what hole do I have to make mine?" he asks you, putting on a pair of black gloves. If he didn't have that many tattoos he could probably look like a surgeon right now.

"Excuse me?" you say, glaring at him.

"I'm using the words you used on the call. The piercing, doll. Where do you want it?" he says smirking. He was fully booked this week, he had to admit. But you entertained him so much on the phone, talking about how bad you wanted him to "fill your holes with metal... what's the right word..." that he decided he couldn't let the chance to meet you slip.

"I'm going to give you one star if you keep on teasing me, asshole," you say decisively.

"Sure, sure. Speak," he chuckles, raising his hands.

"Nipples."

"Mh? Say it louder for me," he gapes a bit.

"I want my nipples pierced!" you exclaim, starting to get pissed off.

He raises one eyebrow, then gets serious. He gets up from his chair and slowly gets closer to you. From your still sitting position, you have to strain your neck to look at him properly. He's really fucking gorgeous, he has the prettiest facial features you've ever seen, not to talk about how muscular he seems to be under his oversized black tee. You're so mesmerized by him that you don't realize that you let him pinch your chin and turn your head left and right, gently.

"Let me see those tits then," he says lowly, starting to lean back. You kind of miss his warmth.

You try not to get shy while you get your shirt over your head and start unclipping your bra, when he suddenly stops you, putting his gloved hand on yours.

"Let me do it for you," he says, gazing into your eyes. The atmosphere between you two is getting heavy, and your closeness is making your belly feel things.

"Sure," you say, lowering your eyes toward his lips. He gets both of his arms behind your back, and with expert fingers makes your bra fall into your lap. He then picks it up and throws it behind his shoulder. He flicks his gaze toward yours for a split second before brushing your nipple with his gloved thumb.

"You got a nice pair, doll," he mumbles, fondling both your tits, hyperfixating on how your nipples were hard even before he put his hands on them. You're trembling, trying your hardest not to make a sound, squeezing your thighs the hardest you can.

"What d'you want me to put on them? Stars? Little spheres? My tongue?" he keeps on rumbling, now focusing on your areolas. He pinches your left nipple and you can't keep yourself from whimpering. Something snaps in his head and he looks at you, starting to smirk.

"Oh, you liked the last one, huh? Let me give it to you then," he says cockily, before kissing lightly the nub he just pinched. You jump a little and he beams at that. He spits on your tits, earning himself a moan, then tries to fit as much as he can in his mouth. Your whole body feels hot, but his mouth is definitely hotter. You feel like you're burning alive until you feel something cold touch your nipple. The sensation is so pleasurable that it catches you off guard: he has a tongue piercing. 

On the other hand, Sukuna looks like the happiest man on earth. He keeps kissing, biting and sucking your breasts, alternating between the two and never leaving one unattended, either with his mouth or with his hand. You get so lost in the pleasure that you don’t realize he’s cleaned and prepped your nipple until you feel the needle passing through it. You cry out in disbelief, but he shushes you.

“You’re doing so good, you’re so pretty, it’s so pretty,” he keeps repeating, almost whining, in your ear. At one point, you feel like he’d want to hump your leg, but his self restraint is stronger than that.

Then everything stops and he walks three steps of distance from you. You’re both panting, staring at each other, lips red: yours from biting them to suppress noises, his from decorating your tits in hickeys.

“I don’t do nipples, everyone knows it. You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he states, breathless, staring at you.

“I know, I thought you were going to say no,” you respond, lightheaded, trying to keep the rise and fall of your chest in check.

“You’re good with only one?” he continues, coming closer to you again.

“Yeah,” you say, skin sensitive to his breath beneath your ear, turning your face to make more room for his lips to brush against the side of your neck.

“Then let’s go, I have other holes to fill,” he tells you smiling devilishly while taking your hand and yanking you toward him.

[discopaddock]

ALL ABOUT THAT NOSE - DANIEL RICCIARDO

PAIRING: dad!daniel ricciardo x fem!mum!reader

WORDS: 1,9k+

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: baby's crying, max and lando being silly boys

Daniel Ricciardo was like a good wine - if he was getting older, he was looking better.

That was something that Y/N L/N knew too well. She had known Daniel since she was 16 years old.

The woman remembered too well the moment when they met. It was summer break before girl's second class in high school when the L/N family was in Perth to meet the wealthy aunt.

“Oh my, I'm so sorry” the young girl gasped, when she collided with a taller boy. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she was going to cry or she was just going to throw up, because she had gotten into a fight with her father, then ran away from aunt's house without phone and got lost in Perth.

“It's okay, no need to worry" was said in a cheerful voice. “I'm Daniel, by the way” a black haired boy said with a large smile on his face.

“My name is Y/N” “Then, it's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N” he spoke, making L/N cry. “Why? What? No crying! Stop crying, please!” Daniel started calming her down due to the fact he had no idea what to do. “There's no need to cry, Y/N” he told her slowly but she started to cry even worse. “What happened?” he asked finally, after getting her to sit on a bench.

“I got lost,” she answered with a tiny voice. Daniel felt sorry for the girl.

“You're not from here, are you?” the boy questioned while getting a seat next to her. “No, I'm from Canberra actually” she said, making Ricciardo raise his eyebrow.

“From Canberra? Are you related to Mrs. Elodie Fanning?”

“Um, yes. She's my aunt” she told him, trying to wipe her tears.

“Great then! I live in a house next to her! I'll walk you there, Y/N” he announced, getting up from the bench.

“Thank you” she said and the boy only smiled at her. Next he trip over shoe laces and almost fell down.

“Ow, sorry, miss Y/N” he laughed and walked her home.

And after that day, they stayed in touch. For the rest of their lives.

Y/N was his biggest fan and supporter. She supported him in his rights and wrongs.

Daniel was also her biggest supporter and fan. He was for her every time, when she got a new role in some film or theatre play, same as her - she was trying her best to be at his every race or just watch them on TV.

It was pretty hard for her, because she wasn't so wealthy, her parents neither, but when aunt Eloide heard about her relationship with Ricciardo, she gave her some money for travelling.

And they were here, in the car on their way to the hospital.

“I know you can stand it for just a moment, love,” the man said, looking at his wife, who was holding her belly, where was the cause of her pain.

“Daniel, faster, because I'm about to give birth to him in this car, for fucks sake” she said and Ricciardo only pressed the gas pedal even harder. this car.

“We're here, little frog” he announced after two minutes, and quickly got out of his newest Ferrari.

“Don't call me like that!” she screamed.

He helped his beautiful woman get out of the car, and then walked her to the reception, where the nurses gave her a wheelchair and took her to the operating room, leaving Daniel alone.

“First kid?” asked one of the nurses, while the one was helping Y/N to breathe. “Yes, my husband is freaking out,” the woman answered. “He says all the time that Otto must have had my nose, because mine looks better than his. I'm hoping that it will be true either”

The nurses laughed, and then Y/N felt another cramp. They started to appear an hour ago, and then they were systematic, appearing every two minutes.

After ten hours of painful labour, Daniel could finally meet with his exhausted wife and sleepy son.

“You did so amazing, baby,” he said to the woman, before kissing her forehead. “I couldn't be more proud of you my love” Daniel added, watching her feeding the newborn baby.

“Thanks, Dan. He's like two hours old and yet he has your Ric Energy” she said with a tiny voice, making the man laugh.

“He's a Ricciardo, isn't he?”

“He is, definitely”

“He's such a beautiful boy,” said Anna, Y/N's mother, looking at her smiling grandson.

“He's my son, of course he's beautiful,” Daniel joked, making everyone in the living room laugh.

“It's mostly because he has got my nose, not his” was said by the actress, which made Ricciardo roll his brown eyes. “Don't even do that again, Daniel. It was you who wanted him to have my nose” she added and then took a seat on her husband's lap.

First time when Y/N and Daniel had shown up at the paddock was totally different than all the previous times, even if the woman had shown there with a pregnant belly.

“Where's the kid?” was said by Lando and Max and it was the first thing that the couple heard, when they entered the Red Bull's hospitality.

“At home, he's four weeks old, what did you expect?” Daniel asked with raised eyebrows.

“We wanted to meet him! Everyone wanted it!” Max answered, making the couple laugh. “It's not our fault, that you don't want anyone in your house since he was born”

“And that's why none of you is his godfather” Ricciardo said, making his friends go away.

“Don't talk to us ever again!” was screamed by Lando, which made Y/N laugh. “It's about you too, Y/N!” Max added.

“I love them,” the woman started, when they took seats on the couch in Daniel's room. “but they are more like our kids. I wouldn't let none of them to be Otto's godfather” “Me either, love”

“So who is the godfather?” Verstappen asked, while his and Norris' heads were sticking out of the door.

“Timothée” Dan said shortly and after that both drivers entered the room. “What?!” Lando and Max were shocked.

“What what? He's a nice guy after all, not like you two” Dan joked. He was laughing at his friends. They were cute actually.

“What about godmother? Who is she?”

“Oh, we don't know yet” Mrs. Ricciardo said, shrugging. “We'll tell you both, when we find an ideal person, don't worry” she announced and sent them kisses, which also did Daniel. “Now bye bye, you both are needed. Bye!” Ricciardo led them out the door and again sat near to his wife. In next three hours he gave an interview, that melted everyone's heart.

“Thank you, Y/N, for these amazing fifteen years that you spent with me. Thank you for your support and that you had never despaired in me. And then thank you for our son, who you just gave birth to a month ago, I couldn't be more proud of anyone in this world than you. I also wanted to thank you for saying yes to me twelve years ago. I loved you then, I love you right now, and I will love until my death. Thank you for everything” Daniel ended his monologue and started looking for his beloved wife, who was crying because of his words.

“I love you endlessly, Dan,” she whispered, when they hugged. “And I love you, dolly” he replied with his biggest and prettiest smile on face. “You're crying again” he laughed, starting wiping the tears. “Just like on the first day, right?” she joked. “Yep, just like then” he said, kissing her nose after. “I want to see all of these photos that they took. We should have one of them at home” the woman said quietly to his ear, making his smile even bigger. “Yes, we definitely should”

liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo and 450,273 others

f1 “(...) I loved you then, I love you right now, and I will love until my death. Thank you for everything”

That's just a short piece of @ danielricciardo's monologue. Watch it all on formula1.com.

4517 comments

charles_leclerc My favourite couple on the grid!❤️

↑ charles_lecat omg charles this is soo cute!!!!

yourusername and i love him endlessly since i was sixteen and i will love him till death do us part.

↑ danielricciardo 🥲❤️

↑ danandyn @yourusermane ur both were made for each other 🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton and I still remember this little danny who was asking everybody on the paddock if they had met his beautiful girlfriend in 2011

↑ f1wags NO WAY HE DID THAT

↑ dr3love omg hes too much😭😭😭

tchalamet my beloved parents idc

↑ tchalametdaily WELL HELLO THERE T

↑ liochalamet cant believe ur commenting on f1 post timo

landonorris I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE HEART 💓 💓💓

↑ carlossainz55 Honestly same Lando😊

maxverstappen1 My favourite couple in the world, both deserve all the best ❤️‍🩹

↑ ilovef1 one time max speaking facts

sebastianvettel Ahh my favourite people, deserve the best!💝

First time the Ricciardo family showed up at the paddock was during the Austin Grand Prix. Of course Daniel was dressed as a cowboy. He just loved that GP.

Even though he wasn't participating that year.

Otto was looking everywhere from his stroller. He was looking at his papa, who was wearing a big, unknown hat and smiling.

Little guy was only three months old and was not ready yet to see his father dressed like that, so he started to cry.

“No, no, no, sweetie, no crying” Y/N started, pulling her son from the stroller. She hugged him and told her husband to take off his cowboy hat. “You will dress as a cowboy for Halloween instead” she announced cradling the baby in her arms.

Otto finally stopped crying, when all of them went to Daniel's room and Y/N fed him.

“We will stay here, okay Dan?” she asked, looking at the man, who was singing his son lullaby, so he could fall asleep easier. “Everything for him” he whispered, putting the sleeping boy to his stroller. “Give me a kiss” he said walking to his wife. She stood up and when he was In Front of her, she placed a kiss on his lips. “I'm so lucky that I have you. If I didn't meet you, I wouldn't be me” he announced holding her in a thigh hug.

“I'm hearing Lando's coming” she said after a while, hearing Brit's footsteps. And yeah, she was so right, because like thirty seconds later a curly haired guy entered the room. He had rosy cheeks and a huge smile on his face.

“There's my favourite boy! And his parents” he said and hugged Y/N. “It's amazing to see you. You look so good and healthy, oh my!” Lando announced, making the woman blush because of the hormones. “And you look the same as last week” he said to Daniel, who only rolled his eyes.

He finally stepped in front of the boy and started to cry.

“He- Oh- He's so pretty” Lando said with his shaky voice and tears on his face. “I can't believe that Daniel is one of the creators of this miracle,” Norris said. “The little one is too perfect”

“Oh, Landon, don't cry” Y/N hugged the younger one and rubbed his back. “We know that he is the prettiest baby on the globe, we do. It's because he has my nose, not Daniel's”

“Hey!” Ricciardo delicately slapped his wife's back.

It was always about the nose.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,012,567 others

danielricciardo 3 months of having you on the world little one. 3 best months of my life❤️

tagged: yourusername

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masterlist

[sister-lucifer]

Love After Life

Claude Theroux (Ghost OC) x Male Reader

Genre: Smut 

Summary: When the ghostly groom mistakes you for his lost bride on a dark Halloween night, you can’t stop yourself from giving into him. 

Content/Warnings: AMAB Reader, unprotected anal sex, cumming inside, Reader crossdressing as a bride for Halloween, a little dubcon but not really only at first, mentions of death + fire, pet names (my love, my darling, various French pet names, etc), Claude refers to Reader with feminine terms because he has weird ghost brain stuff going on and doesn’t realize he’s not his wife, pregnancy/breeding, does this count as force fem?

A/N: Happy (slightly late) Halloween, everyone! ʚ♡ɞ

THIS IS NOT FULLY PROOFREAD! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS!

Believing in ghost stories is a feat that has always hovered just outside your field of reality, what you know to be true. Sure, you can suspend your disbelief to humor a friend now and again, but nothing beyond that. Of course, curiosity has a nasty habit of overpowering basic logic; when your phone pinged with a video from a friend about the supposedly haunted manor on White Oak Hill, you couldn’t resist giving it a watch. 

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy music that immediately started up upon hitting play, snuggling into bed with your free hand in a bag of snacks. You didn’t expect much at all, really. From the look of the video, it seemed like just another ploy for views from a subpar channel profiting off of kids who are still scared of monsters under the bed. You were far too intelligent for that. 

“The haunted house on White Oak Hill has been circulating once again, now that Halloween is coming around,” the narrator spoke, putting on an obviously forced voice while stock b-roll of a graveyard panned across the screen, “but what really happened to make it so haunted? Stay tuned to find out, but first, we want to tell you about our new merch drop—“

You groaned aloud, immediately skipping ahead. You could not be less interested in whatever they were peddling.  

“…and it was then, in July of 1945, that tragedy struck.” 

Ah. That’s more like it.

“Newlywed French aristocrats, Suzanne and Claude Theroux, had just arrived at White Oak Manor, where they intended to spend their honeymoon…”

Ugh, how cliché. You skipped forward a few more seconds, running out of patience fast. 

“…The couple moved downstairs, still dressed in their reception clothes, and completely oblivious to the fire blooming up in the master bedroom. Somehow, a recently lit candelabra had knocked over, causing the charred wick to burn one of the curtains, and the flames were growing rapidly. In their panic, Suzanne managed to escape, but Claude was not so lucky…” 

The music faded out, as did the visuals. As much as you’d hate to admit it, they had reeled you in. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten to the screen throughout that monologue, at least not until—

“…but first, a word from our sponsors.” 

Oh, fuck this! 

The shrill text tone jolts you out of an embarrassingly deep sleep. You wipe the drool from your chin as you scramble to sit up, phone sliding off of your chest. Looks like you fell asleep watching that video. So much for scary—you slept like a baby. 

You pick up your phone and look at the notification. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you type out your reply. 

Unfortunately, you actually had to consider that. 

You’re not exactly strapped for cash or struggling to scrape by, but it sure as hell would make you a lot more secure and comfortable to know you at least have that extra hundred put away in case of an emergency.

…Ugh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter, stumbling through the doorway of the old house, “this is stupid. This is so stupid…” 

Somehow, you’ve gotten this far without putting all of this to a stop.  Maybe it was the hundred dollars floating just out of reach like a carrot on a stick, maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was just plain idiocy, but you really let this happen. Wow. 

Each step makes the wooden floors creak underfoot, the boards hissing in protest to your weight. You struggle to keep your balance in the tacky heels you were forced into, which are as uncomfortable as they are humiliating. To add insult to…well, another insult, you aren’t even wearing regular clothes under the dress as promised; they made it nearly impossible to get the damn thing on, and it was just too uncomfortable. You were allowed to keep your briefs, at least. Not that that makes you feel any better. Your dignity is strained, to put it lightly. 

You scratch at your arm rather aggressively, the itchy fabric of the tulle sleeves irritating the skin there. The entire dress is painfully cheap, and promises an unforgiving rash tomorrow morning. You instinctively reach to where your pocket would normally be to grab your phone, only to be utterly disappointed as the words of your friend echo in your head: 

“No modern technology! If he sees you tapping at your weird light box, he’ll freak out! All you have to do is go in, sweep the house, and report back to me.” 

Of course, your immediate response was to question why the ghost hunter wasn’t going in; surely the ‘expert’ isn’t scared? 

The only answer you got was a rather unceremonious shove towards the house. 

You’re in this alone. Great. 

You just hope the house doesn’t decide to collapse in on itself tonight. You don’t believe in ghosts, but the decrepit 20th century architecture and the harsh wind whistling through the broken windows are very real. It seems like the entire manor is trying to chase you out, like it’s angry that you’re here, loudly creaking and moaning with every shift or shake to talk you out of taking another step. No wonder this place has sparked so many ghost stories, it’s scary as shit! 

You stop in the middle of the foyer, taking a moment to drink in the scenery. 

The effects of the fire are obvious, even after all the years of atrophy; the core of the charred blackness lies upstairs, but its countless arms sprawl outwards, clawing at the walls in a desperate attempt to get free. From what you can see, it did not succeed, as the front most part of the house seems to be relatively untouched. 

Most of the house was gutted in an estate sale—what could be salvaged, anyways— but a couple of throne chairs and a matching ottoman still remain, now thoroughly gnawed through by all manner of creepy-crawlies. The entire downstairs is covered in a sticky blanket of spiderwebs, as if you needed more evidence of an infestation. Most of the curtains have been left untouched, except by time, though they do little to keep the house warm without any in tact windows. All of glass has been nearly completely shattered by either nature or vandals. You noticed a few graffiti tags and discarded beer cans outside, but the inside looks like it hasn’t had many people in it since the fire. The legends must keep them out. 

You look around as you try to discern where to go next. Directly in front of you is a large staircase leading to the upper level of the house, and behind it are a few doors that probably lead to a kitchen, a guest room and the like. On either side are long hallways that curl around, preventing you from seeing where they lead. The living area on your left, with the only remaining pieces of furniture, is enclosed on either side by grand bookcases that once held countless manuscripts and novels. The floor is still discolored from where the rug once laid. The grand chandelier of Damocles above your head sways a bit in the wind, and that makes you swallow nervously; you make the smart decision to move a few steps to the side just in case the diamond daggers come down. 

The question is: where do you start?

You could quite easily get turned around in here, especially in the endless hallways of the ground floor. You were given a brief glance at the floor plans, and there was no basement, only the two levels above and below the stairs. The best place to start would be upstairs, you decide— that way you can work your way back to the front door. 

Upon closer inspection, though, you realize that physically going up the stairs might be easier said than done, especially in these tacky pumps. Your eyes follow the steps from the bottom up, and each stair is only more burnt and broken than the last. You’ll have to navigate this with utmost caution. 

Your first step is shaky, but the wood doesn’t feel too unsteady. You’re careful not to stumble or let the heels of your shoes slip off the back of the stairs as you ascend, holding tightly to the rail. You only lift your hand at about halfway up, when you feel the gradually blackening wood starting to flake off and stick to your palm. The higher you climb, the darker it gets, all of the color of the upstairs completely consumed and overtaken by the fire. It’s like walking into Hell, the last vestiges of light fleeing from the sight as you finally reach the last step. 

You linger there for a moment, mouth hanging open just slightly as the reality of the tragedy sets in. Sure, you’d seen pictures, unable to push down the curiosity in the time before your little adventure, but this was…haunting. 

Someone actually died here. Holy shit. You’re staring into someone’s grave. 

You shudder as another breeze passes through, feeling much colder than before. You can only stare into the pitch black hallway for a moment before an irritated creak from the stairs urges you to quickly move off of them. 

Black dust swarms around your ankles as you step onto the upper floor. It seems even more untouched than the lower part of the house. The wind doesn’t come through as loudly here, and suddenly you realize how deathly quiet it got as you came up the stairs. You listen for a moment to see if you can pick up any sound from the outside, but there’s nothing. Not a sound, not a rustle, not a honk from the highway. You don’t even think the rats come up here. Spooky. 

You look to your left, down the hallway. Darkness. Complete darkness. The frail gleam of the moon is practically swallowed by the suffocating black. 

You look to your right, and see the same thing. You catch a brief glimpse of the dim light reflecting on something. 

You look back to the— 

Wait. 

You double take.  The fuck was that? 

You turn back to the right, now much more on guard. You squint into the shadows, sure that you saw something against the wall that barely hovered where you could see it. 

Nothing moves. 

Nothing is there. 

You sigh, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. You’re letting those dumb stories get to you. You just need to get out of here before you catch a disease or fall through the floor and break an ankle. 

You decide to keep true, headed straight for the center hall and the master bedroom where it all began. You walk slowly, keeping an arm in front of you to feel for spiderwebs in the windowless hallway, but you encounter none. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any signs of pests since the stairs. Nothing worth eating up here, you guess. 

You can barely see the slight glint of the bedroom doorknob. It shifts and wavers just a bit as you bob with each step, eventually coming close enough to reach out and grab it. You prepare for the spikes of cold metal against your skin, but the sensation you feel is much different. 

The doorknob is warm. 

Not unbearably hot, no, but warm. Warmer than it has any right to be, enough to make you pull your hand back for a moment. 

You swallow hard. 

It must be because the wind doesn’t come through here, you rationalize; this hall has no windows, there’s rooms on both sides—it’s not as drafty as the rest of the house. That must be it. 

You grasp the knob again, turning it slowly…so as to not break it, of course. 

The door creaks open loud enough to make you wince, like you’re worried someone will hear and come bustling in to scold you for being up past your bedtime. The room looks rather well preserved, and it doesn’t start to sink in how odd  that is until you’ve already stepped inside, and then the door shuts behind you on its own. That startles you enough to crash your train of thought. 

You quickly spin around to look at the door, staring for a few moments to see if it’ll move. It stays still, the ornate wooden carvings looking back at you like sharp eyes, waiting to see if you, too, will make a move. 

The room is, for lack of a better term, dead. Any sound that tries to make its way in dies outside the walls, and even the particles floating in the air seem frozen, cursed to forever hover in the beams of moonlight. A ghostly glow is cast over everything, an ethereal blanket that makes the air feel heavy. You take a step further into the room, and it feels like walking on the ocean floor. You’re numb, yet you can feel your skin clinging to your bones. 

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Then, a flickering light in the corner of your eye catches your attention. It startles you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, enough to make you jump as you turn to it. The glimmering brilliance blinds you for a moment, and you don’t realize what you’re looking at until your eyes focus again. 

On the bedside table, its illuminating aura casting quivering shadows on the walls, is a sterling silver candelabra holding tightly to three lit candlesticks. The engraved vines snake their way up its arms and around its base, almost as if trying to hold it still. It looks like a priceless antique, but it shines like it’s brand new. A moment ago the room was completely dark, and now it’s aglow with the white-blue candlelight. The flames swirl in your pupils, hypnotizing you with their unnatural hue as they dance like skilled ballerinas, flicking up into a perfect arabesque before relaxing into a soft adagio, beckoning you closer without you even realizing. 

You don’t see how close you’ve gotten until you’re nearly upon it. Your fingers twitch, nearly aching to reach out and hover over the fire. Without a conscious decision, your hand starts to lift, like moving through water. It floats just above the candles, and you feel no heat, nor do you see any smoke. It’s like a projection onto the air itself. 

You barely stop yourself from dipping a finger into the flames. You know logically that you’ll be burned—or at least, you should be—but the fire calls to you nonetheless. For just a moment, everything is different; you aren’t yourself. There’s a dark cloud forming in your mind, and then suddenly it dissipates at the startling sound of a voice behind you. 

You whip your head around so fast your neck nearly snaps. You squint into the darkness, still as a statue, expecting to see your friend standing there or perhaps even a fellow explorer whose curiosity got the better of them. You’re not even sure what the voice said, but it was certainly human…or, at least, something that’s quite good at sounding human. 

You see no one.

You’re just as alone as you were. 

You turn to face the room fully, but you move too fast. Your hand bumps the bedside table, knocking the candelabra off of it. You panic as you scramble to catch the candleholder, not even thinking about the possibility of burning your hands. You manage to reach out at the last second and get your palm beneath it, and you expect to feel the weight of the cool silver against your skin, but you never do. 

You watch with your own eyes as the candelabra phases right through your flesh. 

You think for a split second that perhaps you just missed, but there’s no clatter against the wood floor either. The candelabra disappears with as much ceremony as it first materialized, leaving only a few sapphire embers that jump from the wicks before fading away as well. The moon’s beams on your back is the only surviving light. 

You can feel the freezing of your blood as it crystallizes into solid ice, the unbearable sensation blooming in your stomach before snaking its way down your limbs. You want to scream, but you can only muster a gasp as you stumble backwards in shock. You trip over your own feet, falling back onto the bed. 

Your vision starts to fill with black spots as your mind struggles to wrap around what it just witnessed. You keep seeing that split second in time when you watched it go through you, that single moment where it was halfway through your solid form before it was gone. Unsure what else to do, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to calm yourself. 

You lay there for a few moments, unable to make yourself get up or move at all. All at once your mind is racing, yet you’re unable to think at all. You try to force yourself to calm down, to will your heart to quiet, but you can’t push the thought of the candelabra out of your mind. 

You’re not sure why, but you cover your face. Your entire body tenses for a brief moment before you finally break your barrier of panic. Slowly, but surely, you relax again. Your chest is still heaving, but you can finally form a semi-coherent thought. 

…What the hell just happened? 

You don’t have an answer for that. At least, not right now. 

That’s okay, you sure yourself. You’re fine. You need to just get out of here. You can lie and say you saw a shadowy figure or something. 

You pull your hands away from your face, blinking a few times as your eyes focus and adjust to the bright light. 

Hold on. 

The what? 

No, you’re really seeing that…?! 

Just above you is a hovering form, glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. For a second it only looks like a luminous cloud, but then the finer features become clear, coming into form like a time lapse of a painting. 

You notice the eyes first. They’re a brilliant blue, even more so than the rest of the body, like heavy gems being cradled by translucent clouds. You notice the hair next, long, silky and wavy, looking like it may have once been blond despite the blue tint, and floating as though in zero gravity. The nose is slender and straight, and the lips are devoid of warmth and slightly parted as if pleasantly surprised. The rest of the body is wrapped in a dark suit, accented with a light blue tie and a matching lily boutonnière with drooping petals. 

You put it together in an instant; the attire, the house, the fire… 

…The groom. 

Your throat goes dry as sandpaper. 

He’s smiling down at you a terrifying amount of genuine affection. He tilts his head just slightly, observing you as your mouth gapes and eyes widen in shock. You struggle for words, but only manage to choke out one thing: 

“Claude...?!”

His grin only widens when he hears his name from your lips. 

“Ohh, my love,” he sighs, his thickly accented voice echoing in the back of your head as if speaking directly into your mind, “I was wondering where you went…”

He reaches out to stroke your cheek, and it feels like cold fog on your skin. He’s trembling as much as you are. 

“You’ve returned, you’ve returned…” he mumbles like a chant. He leans in with both hands on the sides of your face, gently bumping his forehead against yours. The contact makes your entire body shiver, and you have to stop your teeth from chattering. You know you should say something, stop him, move away…but what can be done? 

You’re frozen. 

His hands on your face are starting to make your skin tingle, like pins and needles in your cheek. The sensation lingers when he finally pulls away, and you can’t stop yourself from rubbing the feeling away on your shoulder. 

There’s a beat of silence between you for a moment. He looks down at you, gentle smile never wavering despite the terror that’s surely on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize at all that you’re not happy to see him. Something in his eyes makes you feel like he’s looking through you, or perhaps not truly seeing you at all. 

You bristle when he moves lower, hollow hands grasping at your ankles before sliding upward, lifting the cheap layered skirt of the bride costume. The cold feeling creeping up your leg makes you yelp, and you instinctively kick at him. Your tacky heel slips off and falls to the floor with your foot still floating inside his abdomen. Oh god, it feels like stepping in refrigerated jello. 

Claude pauses. For a moment you’re worried you’ve angered him, that now you’ve invoked

the wrath of a restless spirit, but then he laughs. He laughs as though you’d simply told him something funny, and then his hands continue working their way up your legs. 

“Always so spirited,” Claude chuckles, hands now firmly on your thighs, “I always did love that about you, ma femme…” 

He leans over you, and you want to sink into the mattress as far as possible. Your legs tremble uselessly as they dangle over the edge of the bed, unable to make you run. 

“W-Wait, hold on—“ you stammer, but you choke on your words when he dips down to kiss your neck. Each little press of his lips is like a shock to your system. Normally, you wouldn’t be so sensitive, but the feeling is so foreign and overwhelming you can’t help but arch your back. His hands slide up and down your waist, skirt now bunched around your hips, and you can barely feel the cold through the costume. 

He either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t acknowledge your words. He keeps working his way down your neck, hands moving around to your back and fumbling with the zipper down the bodice of your dress. You don’t realize what’s happening before suddenly the costume is being pulled off your shoulders. 

“Wait, wait—!” you say again, with a bit more volume this time. This makes him stop, pulling away and looking at you with confusion, and maybe even a bit of hurt. 

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he asks, stroking your hair, “Are you nervous? Don’t be…” 

“N-No, you don’t understand…!” you insist, but the longer you look in his eyes, the less you want to fight him. 

“Can’t you tell? I-I’m not…you know…” 

You trail off, gesturing vaguely to yourself. Surely he can tell you’re not his Suzanne…? 

His eyebrows furrow. He’s clearly not understanding what you’re getting at, but then his eyes light up with a realization. 

“…Oh…I see…” he mumbles, looking away from you in thought. You finally relax, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you managed to get through to—

“Oh, darling, I don’t care if you’re not a virgin!” 

…What? 

You open your mouth to correct him, but no sound comes out. He kisses you, you think, but it’s so fast you only feel the slight coolness on your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he continues, “you’re still my beautiful wife. No more delay, let me show you how much I love you.”

Before you can blink the costume has been pulled off of you. You’re left in only your boxers and one shoe, head spinning as you struggle to make any sense of the situation. 

How does he not see? You think, you don’t look anything like Suzanne, gender disparity aside…! 

No, wait…what was it they said in that old ghost movie? 

“Ghosts see what they want to see.” 

The sudden understanding barely breaks through as Claude dives into your neck again, the other side this time, mumbling and sighing against your skin in slurred French. 

There’s no reasoning with him, you realize, he wants you to be his wife. He needs you to be her. He’s been waiting here so long for her to return, he doesn’t even know he’s dead. 

Oh, god… 

His hands run up and down your bare chest, and the freezing touch makes your nipples harden. They trail lower, like cold water running down your body, pausing at the waistband of your boxers. He floats downward to nuzzle into your thigh, and the sight of him looking up at you with those big, blue eyes makes your stomach flip. 

“Oh, mon amour, won’t you let me…?” he asks, tugging at your boxers, “I simply can’t rest until I’ve had you…”

Can’t rest, he says…

Is that what he’s been waiting for all these years? 

They say ghosts only stick around if they have unfinished business, right? Is this…is this what he needs? 

You suck in a deep breath, unable to look away from his eyes. 

Well…if it might work, it’s worth a shot, right? You’re doing this for him, after all. 

At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself tomorrow morning. 

Fuck it. 

“Yes.”

The way his expression quite literally lights up makes your face go hot. 

He wastes no time, pulling off your boxers with utmost enthusiasm. The fall to the floor, immediately forgotten once he’s dropped them. You resist the urge to suck in a harsh breath as your half hard cock is exposed to the air. You’re already bracing yourself for the inevitable feeling of his cold touch. 

For the first time, you really see him pause. He’s staring down at your length, gears turning in his head but not working quite right, like he’s on the verge of snapping out of a trance. You gulp. If he’s found you out, you might be screwed. 

The silence stretches on for an almost awkward amount of time. 

Then, without warning, the love returns to his eyes, and a split second later his tongue comes out to lick a long stripe up your shaft. You nearly scream, barely managing to cover your mouth in time. Fuck, that’s cold! 

It’s clear that he’s not all that knowledgeable about what to do with a dick, but he’s giving it a hell of a try. He makes sure his tongue doesn’t neglect a single spot on your length, and he doesn’t miss the little squeal he gets when he flicks gently at the tip. He tries to take it in his mouth, but forcing your cock down his throat is clearly uncomfortable for him, even if he can’t choke on it. Nonetheless, he tries, rubbing at whatever he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand. He’s not afraid of moaning, either, and the vibrations it sends through you can never be replicated by any toy. 

You do your best to lay back and enjoy it despite the bizarre situation. You manage to clear your mind for only a moment before you feel two of his fingers brushing against your hole. You gasp, tensing on instinct. You can feel him smirk around your cock before he pulls off of it for a moment. 

“Ahh, there it is…” he says lowly before promptly busying his mouth once more. 

You bite down hard on your bottom lip as two of his fingers slip in, the cold instantly penetrating your core. This seems to be a skill he’s much more adept at; he’s far less hesitant, and far more graceful. He stretches you in just the right ways, exploring your waiting hole with a confidence that easily surpasses any of your past partners. His fingers slip in and move around so easily, without any struggle or pain. You’re almost upset you’ll never feel this again. 

Try as you might to be quiet, you can’t bite back the moan that crawls out of your throat when the pads of his fingers press against your prostate. He chuckles as best he can with your dick down his throat. He presses again, gentler this time, clearly enjoying the drawn out while it gets from you. 

It’s getting harder and harder to keep quiet as he hits all the right spots over and over again. He’s evidently a quick learner, too, as he’s already picked up on the best ways to use his tongue around your length. You can feel yourself twitching in his mouth. 

He slips in a third finger, and as it pushes in you nearly see stars. Tingly static crawls up your body like dye soaking into fabric, invading the deepest crevices of your nervous system. God, that’s good. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when he finally pulls away, leaving you suddenly empty and far too warm for comfort. You’re too dizzy to question what’s going on when he flips you onto your stomach, but you don’t have to ask questions. You shudder as he leans over you, his chest against your back, engulfing your body with an icy sensation. 

“Oh, ma belle femme, how lucky I am to have you,” he whispers in your ear, voice choked and shaky, “I can feel you trembling underneath me. Just sit still, my darling…” 

You can hear him rustling with his clothes behind you, but don’t bother to look back. Your cock is practically begging for more of his touch. 

After a moment he leans over you again, this time laying his hands over yours. He feels nearly weightless, like a cloud resting on top of you. 

“Je peux enfin t’emmener…”

You don’t have a second to process his words before suddenly he’s pushing into you. You don’t bother trying to hide your voice, and neither does he, droning on and whispering sweet nothings you can barely understand as your mind is completely melted by the feeling of the penetration. 

You nearly collapse against the mattress, but he manages to catch your hips just in time. You claw at the sheets as he fills you to the base, and the blankets do little to muffle your cries. For a brief moment you wonder if anyone outside could hear you, but that worry is quickly pushed aside when you feel him pulling back. You dig your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks as you prepare for what’s about to come. 

The first thrust feels like it might break your mind. The head of his pale cock butts hard against your prostate, making you shriek like you never thought you could. You nearly tear a hole in the bedsheets with your desperate attempt

to find some sort of relief, and yet you don’t want any at all. Your body might be shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but against all logic, your mind is screaming more, more, more!

“C-Claude—!” you yelp as he slams into you once more. 

“Suzanne!” he echoes in turn, ecstasy dripping from his voice, “Suzanne, my love, how I’ve waited for this…!”

He returns to kissing your neck, though much messier than before. He just needs to taste you, sucking and nipping and licking any spare bit of skin he can get to. If he feels so cold, you must feel so warm. 

He’s trying to be gentle, to go easy on you, but he’s struggling. You can feel him forcing himself to go slower. You need to encourage him. 

“Oh, Claude,” you moan, putting on the girliest voice you can muster, “faster! Faster, my love, please, give me more!” 

He’s more than happy to comply, and after a brief adjustment of his hold on you his pace increases tenfold. He’s grunting and huffing like an animal—and you’re underneath him, moaning and whimpering like a girl. 

“Suzanne, my darling, we’re going to do it,” he says suddenly, and you have no idea what he means. He pulls you in closer, pressing you against his chest more firmly. 

“We’re going to do it,” he repeats, “we’re going to have our family…I want to— no, I need to give you my child.” 

The sound that comes out of you is humiliating. 

You’ve never wanted anything more than for him to cum inside of you in this moment. 

“Yes,” you reply without thinking, “yes, yes!” 

He only thrusts into you faster, fueled completely by your mutual desire. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding tightly and pulling you back against him as he pushes in. The bed is rocking so hard it feels like it might collapse underneath you. Even if it did, neither of you would even consider stopping, not for a second. 

He’s starting to lose his rhythm, you realize. He’s just as sensitive as you are. He wants this just as much, if not more. You can’t even string together a coherent sentence to beg for it, all you can do is let the string of pleasured noises fall from your lips, only occasionally managing to say his name. He chants back ‘Suzanne’ like it’s the only word he knows; it’s the only one that matters to him, at least. 

You jump when he wraps a hand around your cock, pumping it quickly with little to no consistent pattern. He’s practically milking it, rubbing fast and hard and doing everything in his power to push you to your peak. 

“Cum for me, my love,” he huffs, “let me feel you cum around my cock…won’t you give me the privilege?” 

“Of course, my darling,” you reply. How could you say no? 

Your orgasm starts to build faster than you’re ready for. You can barely choke out an understandable warning before your cock twitches and spills its load, spurting into his hand and certainly dirtying the bedding underneath you. He buries his face in your neck as your hole squeezes him deliciously, making him cry out at the feeling. 

“Yes, my love— Oh god, yes!” he almost sobs. He’s completely lost his rhythm now, just rutting into you like a feral dog in heat as he chases his own high. 

He gives one last cry of his bride’s name before suddenly he stills, and his cock spills into you. You’re not sure what it feels like—you don’t think any human experience could ever compare—but it’s certainly not unpleasant. It’s not the warm, sticky feeling dripping down your thighs, at least. 

You nearly black out for a moment, your head spinning like a top with no relief in sight. Darkness is quickly clouding your vision as you come down from your intense high, and you barely register the gentle kiss Claude presses to your cheek before the cold feeling against your back is gone. You close your eyes then, unable to keep them open any longer. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you awake again. Logically, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you feel like you’ve been asleep for years. You slowly move to sit up, and instantly you’re made painfully aware of the soreness in your legs and lower back. You groan, forcing yourself to move to sit on the edge of the bed. 

You’re still very naked, that’s for sure. You look down between your legs, and grimace at the sight of the luminescent ectoplasm glowing in the dim light as it drips from your thighs and ass. 

The thing that really stands out, though, is the state of the room. Whatever you saw before must’ve been some sort of ghostly illusion; now you’re surrounded by nothing but charred black, sticking to your legs and palms and floating about in the air in flaky little bits. 

Yuck. 

You sigh as you will yourself to get up, not enjoying the feeling of your one bare foot on the dusty wood floor. You can barely walk far enough to retrieve the costume dress, let alone bend down and pick it up, but by some divine intelligence you manage. 

After redressing to the best of your ability, you limp back downstairs—talk about a walk of shame. Although, despite your embarrassment, you do note that the house feels…emptier. Lighter. It’s nice. 

You don’t have an excuse for why you’re so disheveled, or why you’re walking so weirdly, or why you’re so sweaty. You don’t care. You’re going to walk out that door, get your last half of the payment, and go home and get a good night’s sleep knowing that, in some impossibly strange way, you did a good thing. 

The one thing you will never admit, though, is that you were very wrong: 

Ghosts are real. 

And you have the wet dream to prove it. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

[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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