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totothewolff · 8 months ago

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

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

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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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onboardsorasora · 1 year ago

Text

❄️Enchanted AU: Christmas Part 25❄️

Allo!! I hope everyone had a restful holiday/long weekend and if you didn't have any of those (a restful time or a long weekend) then I hope you were able to carve out some time for yourself💕💕

Part 1 | Christmas Part 1 | Last Chapter

Part 25/Christmas Part 12

Max jogged down the harbor path, breathing in the crisp boxing day morning air. He'd gotten a text from his trainer reminding him that training camp would be starting soon and that spurned him into at least getting himself used to the effort again.

The fairly lonely run reminded him of the morning Daniel came barrelling into his life– quite literally.

Max was a multiple time world champion, he was rewriting history every time he suited up for a race. He had never truly felt like his life was missing anything, he was a born and bred racer. He was at the top of his game, in the prime of his career.

And he wanted to be able to share it all with Daniel. Daniel who came out of nowhere, who turned his life upside down. Daniel was sweet, and caring. Max felt like he was a better person because of him. Felt like he wanted to be a better person for him. Because of his innocence and his completely different view on life, people and animals.

Max wasn't the worst person by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, he was very straightforward and that tended to rub people the wrong way. But he had always been a very kind and considerate person, he thought. He took care of his family and friends because he enjoyed it. Because he wanted to.

Taking care of Daniel was initially because he genuinely wanted to help– Daniel was far away from home, from everyone he knew. In getting to know him, Max now craved Daniel's smiles, his laughter. He craved the sparkle in his brown eyes. Max wanted him. And he wanted him to stay.

Max stopped by the pier, hands on his hips while he caught his breath. He looked out into the harbour, past all the yachts docked, out to the open sea. He remembered how Daniel looked out on the paddleboard, in the soft light of the setting sun surrounded by the open water

He needed to book a reservation, he needed to make sure nothing went wrong. He wanted their date to be perfect.

He shot off again, finishing his run in record time with renewed energy. When he got home, he was suddenly hit by how domestic and perfect everything was.

The boys were lounging comfortably on the couch watching TV while their parents chatted and packed around them. Daniel and Sophie were in the kitchen, she was teaching him how to make waffles. The sounds and smell of home washed over him like a wave and he felt as if he had entered the most impeccable bubble of everything perfect in his life.

He took a shower, scrubbing the sweat from his body and soothing his tight muscles with the water. He dressed quietly, listening to his family on the other side of his door and down the hall.

He heard the shrieks of the boys, excited noises while they were shepherded to presumably eat breakfast. Taking a further moment for himself, Max scrolled through his phone going through the restaurants in the area.

He was a simple man, he liked what he liked and he tended to stick with it. He went to the same restaurant for carpaccio that he found when he first moved to Monaco. He used the same cleaning service and got a weekly grocery delivery from the same supermarket for the last several years.

So he was ill equipped to find the ‘right’ place to impress. With a sigh he jumped into the group chat to ask for help. Charles and Lando were both annoying and unhelpful. In-between all of their surprise and teasing (including a 20 second voice note sent by Lando that Max did not bother to listen to), Alex was a beacon of hope.

He submitted a short list of options for Max's review. It was a list of three, listed in order of Lily's favourites. Max thanked him before looking through the menus of each and eventually making a reservation for new years eve.

Max grinned to himself and he pocketed his phone before leaving his room. The boys were eating messily as usual, being watched over by Tom who was fighting a losing battle at keeping their faces free of the sticky syrup. Sophie was doting on Vic who was sipping tea on the couch, her legs firmly in Sophie's lap on the receiving end of a massage.

Daniel walked up to Max, biting his cuticles. “Maxy, can I talk to you for a sec?” Daniel asked quietly, he looked nervous and Max furrowed his brow.

“Of course, Daniel.” They walked back to the hallway for a semblance of privacy, Max gave Daniel his full attention.

“A–about yesterday. I'm sorry if you felt pressured to kiss me because of like the stupid mistletoe. I didn't mean–” Daniel started to ramble and Max grabbed his hand to quiet him.

“Daniel, no, it's not like that. Of course, I wanted to also.” His confession was met with wide eyes, Daniel looked at him stunned.

“I- I mean– uhm.” Daniel grinned and covered his mouth with his hands that were covered by his sweater. His cheeks bloomed with colour. “I–” he didn't know what to say.

“Is new years eve ok?” Max asked instead, to steer the conversation to better places. Daniel blinked at him owlishly.

“For our date.” Max clarified and Daniel made a small o with his lips. Before biting them shyly.

“Yes, that's ok.” Daniel whispered, tucking his head a little.

“Lovely.” Max agreed.

They rejoined the rest of the family, staunchly ignoring all inquiring looks and elbows for information. Daniel had a faraway gaze and soft smile for the rest of the day.

Daniel spent the entire time with the boys, helping them pack their toys and calling birds to the patio to meet them. He even helped them to let Sassy and Jimmy know that they love and would miss them.

Dinner was a loud and lively affair. It was agreed that Max would be taking everyone to the airport afterwards and Daniel would spend the time cleaning up and maybe calling his mom to check in on her. He hugged everyone goodbye, squeezing them all tightly and whispering his personal happiness for each of them.

Max was taking the last of the bags, with Tom's help, to the car they had rented. Daniel was corralling the boys, giving the last of his chubby cheek kisses when he heard it.

“I was skeptical when Max suggested we come here instead of staying at home but this was so fun, the boys truly had a blast.” Vic gushed to Sophie. They were by the door, slinging their coats over their arms. “We should do it again next year, maybe. Get out of the snow for a while– hey Max, I was just telling Mom that this was a lovely change of plans.”

Daniel's body went cold, frozen solid with shock. He looked over the boys' head to see Max looking over at him with a guilty expression. Daniel mustered a smile at him.

He managed to see everyone off happily, accepting promises to call. He felt discombobulated. Like he was wading through quicksand underwater and through the darkness he couldn't tell which way was up.

He packed and started the dishwasher mechanically, stripped the beds in the guest bedrooms and started a load of laundry. He ignored how much his hands started to shake in each task.

He was fine.

Daniel located his phone, cursing that he forgot to charge it again, the orange battery icon mocked him. He plugged it in and dialed Michelle's number at the same time, stepping from leg to leg in lieu of pacing.

“Hey Danny!” Michelle picked up on the third ring.

“Chelle.” Daniel's voice wobbled, and he sniffed loudly. Michelle was instantly alarmed.

“Danny what's wrong? Are you ok?”

“H-have you got m-my passport?”

Next Chapter

#🫣🫣🫣#maxiel #max/daniel #enchanted au #enchanted au: christmas #disney princess dan

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flieslikeamoron · 2 years ago

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I’m going to post the next part of Sleight of Hand this weekend or yeet myself into the ocean. But listen, I keep thinking about how well a steddie AU of Schitt’s Creek could work.

Okay, so super rich Steve’s parents get caught doing tax evasion or a pyramid scheme or whatever and lose all their money. Which means he’s forced to relocate to Hawkins, Indiana and become a doper person against his will.

Robin is the sarcastic front desk girl at the hotel who’s extremely mean to him, but turns out to be his actual soulmate. Eddie is the small time weed dealer he gets stuck doing community service with. Every day he’s wearing McQueen to clean up road kill in the heat and he misses his- Well, not his friends so much because turns out they’re kind of assholes who won’t return his calls now that he’s poor, but he misses the jet and he misses the penthouse and the yacht and the clothes and the parties- He misses the fucking money. It’s the worst, everything is a nightmare, except-

Eddie’s really hot. And Steve doesn’t mind the chance to ogle his tattoos. To watch his muscles flex when he’s working. He doesn’t mind the way Eddie teases, how he takes it when Steve dishes it back with a grin on his face to show there are no hard feelings. And they have nothing in common, feels like they’re from different planets most of the time, but there’s something- They’re definitely flirting, but Eddie flirts with everybody. And Steve thinks he’s with Chrissy, the cute waitress at the cafe. And this whole situation is temporary. Steve’s not staying. Steve’s getting the fuck out of here as soon as he figures out how. It’s just a distraction. Just a bright spot in the hell that’s become his life. But it is... There is something.

Anyway, lots of cute community service flirting and UST. Plus the reveal that Eddie’s been doing community service long after he finished his sentence. And also, please imagine if you will, Steve has lots of anecdotes about being slutty across the globe and escaping from a Thai drug lord’s car trunk by bribing him with sex and getting into Kiss Kiss without a lock of human hair ETCCCC.

DO YOU SEE IT?

#steddie au #fic ideas #schitts creek #stranger things #and does steve have his own theme song from his defunct reality show?#you bet he does #steddie fic ideas

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tomwambsgans · 1 year ago

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i know it's fitting to the whole nrpi thing that we have little to no knowledge about the staff/help in shiv and tom's penthouse but i wish so bad that we knew like ANYTHING other than the mere fact of their existence... like i feel like we have a more concrete understanding of even kendall's relationship with his staff and we only see his home once or twice. and we see plenty of logan's treatment of household staff.

meanwhile what we know for certain about tom and shiv is that they have a dogwalker, they have a personal chef at least in s4, and that most likely no staff stay the night given the "after the help have gone" line. and on at least one specific occasion (like, aside from just generally knowing tom's midwestern sensibilities) we see tom explicitly be very polite to a service worker (on logan's yacht in 2x10).

with that in mind i have to imagine some kind of repoire between tom and any given staff he and shiv have ever had. which then of course makes me wonder about the specifically male staff and whether or not anything similar to the homoerotic power stuff between him and greg has ever happened there... like i do think tom would see a big difference between an employee in the company and someone that he just pays to clean his house--in fact he would likely not even be the one paying them , it would probably be shiv, so he may feel no entitlement to them whatsoever.

but nevertheless tom is fucking gay and pathologically uses power to justify his reaches for intimacy and i know there just has to be something. anyone shiv hired would know to be afraid of her and to not try to fuck her man so no real passes would've been made but.. yknow. i'm betting on occasional awkward (partly?) one-sided flirtations where any men (probably very few men worked for shiv anyway) also likely got a sense about tom and would've tried to appease him in particular once he was actually married to shiv. but yeah they'd have been completely relying on him to try to start something, which tom would never have done, so.

#tom wambsgans #meta #hc #mine

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chicgeekgirl89 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 4: Fire

Read on AO3

T.K. wants him. Carlos saw it in his eyes, read it in his body as they’d stood in the galley together and it had taken everything in Carlos not to go over and pin him against the counter and show him exactly how much he’d like T.K. to offer him sex.

That knowledge has Carlos sailing through dinner service on cloud nine. He cooks with a fervor and passion previously unknown, a smile permanently etched onto his face. He knows it’s a bad idea for them to be together. Like really bad. Like, if he fucks up his chance on this boat he’s got nowhere else to go, bad.

But T.K. is starting to feel inevitable.

By the time the guests have gone to bed it’s nearly midnight. Iris is on lates with him and she’s seated on the counter, a bowl of ice cream in her hand as he cleans around her. “I can’t believe you made this,” she says, her mouth full of sea salt and caramel. “Remember when we were kids and we used to play in the backyard and make mud pies and stuff? This is better.”

“I certainly hope so,” Carlos says with a laugh.

“Andrea Reyes and all the tías would approve,” she tells him, and he feels a glow in the center of his chest. He’d spent so much time in the kitchen with her and all his tías growing up. It was their love of food that had sent him to culinary school and then onto is career. He misses them fiercely, it’s been almost a year since he’s been home, but it feels good to carry their legacy with him as he travels across the globe.

“Glad you think so,” he says.

“So, did you bone T.K. yet or what?” she asks.

“We have talked about this so much,” Carlos says in a tone of long suffering. “That is an inappropriate question.”

“I’m your ex. I’m allowed to ask inappropriate questions.”

“Nope,” Carlos says. “That’s not what that means at all.”

“You can ask about my sex life,” Iris offers.

“I really, really don’t want to. Let’s go back to talking about ice cream.”

“Mm.” She takes a bite and then makes a circular motion with her spoon while she waits for it to melt enough on her tongue that she can speak again. “One time, when I was working at this ice cream place, this guy and I went into the walk-in freezer and we—“

“Iris!”

“Okay fine. You’re such a prude. I’ll stop,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Can I ask how you feel about being on this boat?”

“Yes, that you can ask about,” Carlos says as he dries a couple knives and slots them back into their block. “I like this boat a lot.”

“Better than those assholes on your last boat?”

“Definitely,” Carlos says fervently. “Everyone is so nice here. It’s kind of unbelievable.”

“Right?” Iris says, her eyes wide. “Kind of feels like they’ve all been taken over by aliens.”

He stops drying a massive pot and looks at her with concern, which she waves off. “I’m kidding,” she says. “Like haha funny,” she reiterates when he doesn’t laugh. “I’m not off my meds. I’m making a joke.”

It’s a relief to hear. “Oh,” he says. “Right.”

“Carlos you have got to relax,” she says. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I’m great, actually. Tommy and Nancy, everybody really, they’re all super understanding. I’m taking my meds, I’m doing calls with my therapist and my psychiatrist on the regular. I’m good. I didn’t call you here to take care of me. I called you here to take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” he tells her.

Her face hardens. “I know how bad it was on your last boat. I could tell every time we talked that you were unhappy. Nobody here is going to treat you like that. Not on the crew anyway. And if any of the guests do, just tell Tommy. She’ll take care of it. Trust me.”

She’s not wrong. Working on The Precinct had been a special kind of humiliating torture. Getting off that boat was the easiest decision he ever made.

“So?” Iris says.

“So…what?” Carlos asks, genuinely confused.

“Thank you for saving me from my miserable yachting job, Iris. You’re the best, Iris. Of the Blake sisters you are the smartest and hottest, Iris. I owe you a big one, Iris,” she prompts, quirking a sassy smile.

He chuckles. “Thank you Iris. You are the best. And I am very grateful.”

She kisses him on the cheek and hops down. “You’re welcome. Make me more ice cream tomorrow.”

It’s a demand, not a request, but he’d make her a five course dinner if she asked for it. She’s saved him from himself more than once and he loves her for it. “You going to bed?” he asks as she puts her dishes in the dishwasher and sets it to run overnight.

“Um yeah, it’s one am,” she tells him. “You should too.”

“I’m just waiting for some cookies to finish,” he says, nodding toward the oven.

“You work too hard Reyes,” she says with a sigh and shake of her head.

“Sorry Mom,” he says, bumping her with his hip when she passes by.

She gives him a gentle shove in return. “Goodnight Carlos.”

“Goodnight Iris.”

He gets some fruit cut up for the morning, preps a yeasted mix that makes the lightest, most amazing waffles, and then pulls out the last batch of cookies before doing a final wipe of the counter. He rubs his eyes and checks his watch; it’s almost two o’clock. He’s exhausted. The rest will have to wait.

He sneaks quietly into the cabin, careful not to make any loud noises or let in too much light, smiling when he spots T.K. asleep in his bunk. The second stew has one leg hanging over the edge of the bed, the blankets all twisted around himself, an arm thrown over his face, his mouth open, a slight snore escaping every time he breathes. It’s adorable and chaotic and it makes that warm glow in Carlos’ chest intensify.

He brushes his teeth and strips down to his boxers before climbing into bed. He’s been up for so many hours he’s kind of forgotten what bed feels like and has to stifle a groan as he sinks into the cheap mattress and closes his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for him to drop fully into deep sleep.

He dreams of T.K. His eyes, his lips, the way he bounces around when he’s happy. He dreams of them together, kissing, touching, their bodies flush against one another. He can feel the softness of T.K.’s skin, hear him saying his name, “Carlos. Carlos.”

“CARLOS!”

Carlos’ eyes shoot open to find the overhead light on and T.K. shaking him awake as an alarm blares from somewhere on the boat.

“Carlos GET UP!” T.K. demands and Carlos follows his instructions, sliding down to the floor and looking around bleary eyed.

Footsteps go pounding by in the hallway and T.K. pulls open the door. “Where is it?” he calls.

“Galley!” Mateo yells over his shoulder.

“I’m not wearing a shirt,” Carlos says, looking around as if one is going to appear in his hands. He’s still half asleep and struggling to keep up.

T.K. opens a drawer and tosses him one, Carlos pulling it on haphazardly as T.K. holds out a hand. “Carlos we have to go now.”

Carlos takes it, and T.K. pulls him out into the hallway.

There’s a lot of commotion going on, he can hear it even before they reach the galley, and realization slowly sets in. The fire alarm. The alarm going off is the fire alarm. And it’s going off in the galley. His galley.

“Move!” Marjan comes barreling down the hall in a fuzzy pink bathrobe and matching hijab. She’s carrying a fire extinguisher, and both of them having to go flat against the wall to let her through.

As soon as she’s past them T.K. starts towing him along again until they finally reach the source of the commotion.

All of the lights are on and it seems the entire crew is pouring in. There’s smoke spiraling out from somewhere, the alarm screaming overhead, everyone yelling over it.

“Somebody talk to me!” Tommy says, her voice cutting through the chaos as she strides in wearing leggings and a t-shirt she clearly just threw on.

“I think it’s the stove,” Judd says as he opens the oven door.

“Nancy, Iris, get the guests gathered in the main salon. Get them life jackets and be ready to move if we need to,” Tommy commands and they immediately disappear up the stairs, a flash of Nancy’s blue shorty pajamas the last thing they see. “Judd I need answers now.”

“I’m trying to get them for you,” he tells her, grabbing his radio. “Dave! Get the electrical to the galley cut off!”

The lights go out immediately and a couple people click on flashlights as Judd and Paul pull the stove away from the wall. “There it is!” he says after a minute. “Marjan hit it!”

She pulls the pin on the extinguisher and unleashes it in a hazy cloud. It smells terrible, the acrid scent of burning plastic and smoke filling the air as the fire extinguisher dust settles over everything. There’s a moment of calm as everyone waits to see if the danger has passed. Judd leans over and eyes Marjan’s work. “I think we’re good,” he says and there’s a collective sigh of relief in the room. “No fire, it was just smoldering. Good thing we caught it when we did.”

Fires on boats are incredibly dangerous, worse than a storm, a crash, or dragging anchor. They’re one of the biggest emergencies you can have, taking boats larger than the the Firebug down in minutes.

“Is everybody okay?” Tommy asks. “Is anybody hurt?”

There’s a murmur of “no’s” as they all look each other over.

Tommy thumbs her radio. “Nancy, Nancy, Tommy.”

Nancy responds immediately. “Go for Nancy.”

“The situation seems to be under control, but let’s have our guests stay all together for just a little longer please,” Tommy tells her.

“You got it Cap. Late night drinks coming up.”

Carlos finally finds his voice. “Did I—-“ It cracks terribly, full of sleep and smoke and panic, and he swallows hard trying to clear it. “I thought I turned everything off before I went to bed. I always check. I—I think I checked.”

He’d been so tired, is it possible that tonight, that this one time, he made a mistake that nearly got them all killed?

“I don’t think it was you Carlos,” Judd drawls, shining his flashlight around a little more. “Looks more like a short in the wiring somewhere.”

A hand squeezes his and Carlos looks down to find that through the entire ordeal, T.K. hasn’t let go, their fingers still entwined together. A rush of gratitude floods through him, combining with the lack of sleep to make him slightly dizzy.

“I think we oughta disconnect this so we can get the power back on and see if we can get it fixed,” Judd says.

“I trust your judgement,” Tommy tells him.

It only takes a few minutes to get the stove undone. When they flip the breaker and light finally floods the room again, Carlos is horrified by what he sees. Extinguisher dust covers nearly every surface. Pots and pans have been thrown around haphazardly in the attempts to find the source of the smoke. Fruit that was neatly put in baskets is now rolling around, some of it smashed on the floor. The place is a disaster.

“It’s okay,” T.K. says and Carlos jerks his head to meet the other man’s eyes, soft and reassuring. “We’ll get it cleaned up.”

“Yes, let’s get things taken care of in here so we can get a little more sleep before we have to start the day,” Tommy says briskly.

“I’ll go grab some buckets and rags. This powder is corrosive, we need to get it off of everything,” Paul says, heading off to grab supplies from the closet down the hall.

Marjan bends over and starts picking up the scattered fruit, Tommy heads for the sink, turning the water on hot as Judd and Mateo continue to investigate what’s happening behind the stove.

T.K. gives his hand a final squeeze and then lets go to start wiping down the counters. It’s a display of teamwork unlike what Carlos has experienced before and he’s deeply moved by the sense of camaraderie.

Iris and Nancy rejoin the group after sending the guests back to bed, and even though the galley is tiny, they somehow all manage to fit and make it work. There’s laughter and jokes and not a single person makes a snide remark to him about this being his territory to clean up. It takes them almost two hours, but the kitchen gleams again when they’re done.

“What do you think Carlos?” Tommy asks. “Anything else we need to do to get this back in working order for you?”

“No, this is great,” Carlos says. “Thank you. Truly, I appreciate it. And I’m so sor—“

“Uh uh,” Judd says, cutting him off. “You’re not apologizing for something that’s not your fault.”

“Yeah no way dude. It’s not like you left a pot on the stove. Or tried to make Easy Mac without putting any water in it,” Mateo says.

“Babe, tell me you don’t know that from experience,” Nancy says, sending him a look.

“It’s an easy mistake to make!”

“Okay, time for bed,” Tommy says, an amused smile on her face. “Try and get some sleep and I’ll see you all in a few hours.”

They shuffle off to their respective quarters, equal parts exhausted and wired. It will be interesting to see if anybody actually gets any sleep for the rest of the night. “You okay?” Iris asks when they reach the door of the cabin she shares with Nancy and Marjan.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, reaching over to squeeze her arm. “Get some sleep.”

“You too,” she tells him..

He probably won’t. His brain isn’t going to be able to shut off after this. Good thing he just started Madeline Miller’s Circe. That should keep him occupied for a couple hours until it’s time to get up and start breakfast service.

T.K. is in the bathroom when he gets back to the cabin. Carlos pulls off his shirt, realizing when he does so that it’s T.K.’s, not his. His heart does a little flip flop in his chest at the intimacy of wearing something that belongs to another person. He carefully folds it up and is setting on T.K.’s bunk when the bathroom door opens.

“You doing all right?” T.K. asks as he steps into the room.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah I’m okay. You?”

“Unfortunately not my first boat fire,” T.K. says. He takes a step closer, eyes searching Carlos’ face. “You’re sure you’re okay? You were shaking in the galley.”

The memory of the pressure of T.K.’s fingers between his makes Carlos long to touch him again.“I um, I did kind of wonder if we were goners for a second there,” he says. “Thank you. For making sure I got up. That I made it out of here.”

“I would never leave you behind,” T.K. says, eyes flicking downward to Carlos’ lips and back up again so fast Carlos wonders if he imagined it.

It feels warm in here, like someone has turned up the heat, and Carlos is suddenly aware of how incredibly close he’s standing to T.K. and how very little clothing separates them at the moment; nothing but his black boxer briefs and T.K.’s white t-shirt and adorable stripy sleep shorts.

He wants this man. He wants him so badly. It’s crystal clear now: he’s never wanted anyone like this, has never felt this electricity, this sense of joy and safety in the presence of another human being before.

Decorum and job security be damned.

“T.K.” The name comes out on his next exhale, soft, warm.

“You should…try and and sleep,” T.K. says, his voice equally soft.

Neither of them are moving, but somehow it feels like their bodies are drawing closer. “I can’t,” Carlos says. “I just—I can’t.”

He reaches out, cradles T.K.’s face in his hand and T.K.’s eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching. “Carlos I—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Carlos says, taking a step forward, letting his hand slide down and wrap around the back of T.K.’s neck to draw him closer. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me too. Tell me that it’s driving you crazy that we share this room, that we sleep in the same space every night but not together. Tell me that you feel this thing between us. Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” T.K. says. “I feel it. I—“

That’s as much as Carlos needs, closing the gap, his lips finding T.K.’s in a kiss that feels achingly right. It sends a thrill down his spine to finally, finally be doing what he’s wanted to since the moment he stepped onto this boat.

He tries to be gentle, keeping the kiss soft and light, even though his mind is screaming at him to get them both naked as fast as humanly possible. T.K. doesn’t seem all that interested in gentle though. He immediately responds, opening his mouth, inviting Carlos in, encouraging him into something more heated and intense.

His hands wind into Carlos’ hair and Carlos lets out a soft grunt of pleasure when they tighten in his curls, pulling just enough, exactly the way he likes it. He pushes forward, slotting his thigh between T.K.’s, the hand that’s not keeping their mouths flush finding the curve of T.K.’s ass and locking in like a vise so that there’s barely a part of them that’s not touching.

It’s dirty and hot and hard and everything Carlos has been dreaming it would be. Everything T.K. has been too, judging by the way he keeps sighing and making little noises of pleasure that escape from his mouth and into Carlos’ throat and then all the way down until Carlos feels like he might die if they don’t start taking their clothes off very soon.

T.K. shifts, pulling Carlos forward. “T.K.” Carlos grunts out between kisses. “We can’t get in your bunk.”

“You want to have sex in yours? That seems risky,” T.K. says, looking pointedly at how high off the floor Carlos’ bed is.

“No, I mean we won’t fit,” Carlos says.

Boat bunks are barely made big enough for one person. They might be able to squish in there and cuddle, but anything more intense doesn’t seem like a possibility.

“You’re not up for the challenge Reyes?” T.K. asks, flashing him a smirk as he toys with the waistband of Carlos’ boxers. “Should we stop now and go back to our separate beds?”

Carlos does not want to get back in his bed. In fact he never wants to be separated from T.K. ever again.

T.K. grins like he knows he’s won and strips off his t-shirt, sinking slowly back into his mattress, eyes locked onto Carlos’.

Carlos loves a challenge.

#Tarlos #Come Sail Away #Fire #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic

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saintmeghanmarkle · 6 months ago

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SMOKE AND MIRRORS. by u/deedee50

SMOKE AND MIRRORS. anyone thirsty, want some juice? . the #ESPYSawards #PatTillmanAward are just distraction, he needs to get out from under thethrowing stuff out he needed for a visit to court, whilst enjoyable to take the pee, thats more going on than meets the eye & poor #PatTillman was said distraction, i've been sitting on this for a while, some of you know me f& previous things shared have been 100% but i was dealing with personal stuff... .. so lets start....love kendrick If I didn't ride blade on curb, would you still (love me)?If I minimized my net worth, would you still (love me)? Keep it a hundred, I'd rather you trust me than to (love me)Keep it a whole one hund', don't got you I got nothin', ayythe plan has always been to get her husband out from under with his IPP status it's not just security, altho they'd love us to believe that. He can't be committed of a crime with it. BIG MONEY love that, but the wife is the brains despite her managing to fool most, by deliberately making sure all plans fail, spotify/netflix, why do you think she kept away from #spare? acts pathetic, clinging to him, i've played along but really this is what it's about.she was busy making sure she knows how to use her washing machine, cos if you like idk, drop some money on the floor, you need to clean it right? and who handier than a british prince with IPP satus to help? but if i were picking up after someone i'd like to get paid for my work, like you know with um idk a 120m waterfront property, couple private jets, yachts. but when you don't like 1 job, like going on tv, writing books, opening comMunity centres, you might buy a polo club, few horses keep yourself busy whilst the wifes doing the washing up. hi Nacho!And as a treat you can do anything and everything without needing your fathers money or your brothers grace of a return to arms, it's all been smoke & mirrors. (unlike your brother & his wife who are trapped, altho they feel fine, tyvm cos you're never going to prison, wow wouldn't that be nice ;)just got to wait a little longer because your familys just popped out to see the security services about putting the hoover round. they'll be in touch. in the meantime, while waiting, lets piss all over a decent mans legacy, just so your ego doesn't get bruised, ok got your award hunn, you sit there, good boy.ps, getty meeting, not for the willy. the land price question, she's really not as crass, perhaps shes a better actress than we've known... but one must always be above scrutinty, poor ol' me, wouldnt have a clue, and a prince - i mean as if.. psst andrew/fergie altho they prefer the far east, shes a cali type girl.PPS why now, takes ages to get to court, i'll be long gone lol., i've missed posting as much last few weeks but personal stuff you know , but life goes on. ty for reading. post link: https://ift.tt/sBc95GL author: deedee50 submitted: July 13, 2024 at 03:43PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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onestopmarineau · 9 months ago

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Yacht Cleaning

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#yacht cleaning #sydney marine services #yacht maintenance #yacht management

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medusapelagia · 1 year ago

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23 AU-gust: Joker (shipwrecked)

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: none WC: 2011

Eddie fucking hates tourists, especially the young Americans that come to his country throwing around their money as if it was nothing.

The last group almost ruined his yacht and all they did was say that they were sorry and gave him some money so they could resolve all his problems!

It’s fucking August and he needs the yacht to sail around the little islands that tourists love!

Thank god his uncle could repair almost everything, so his yacht was back to business in no time, ready for more arrogant wealthy boys who love spending their parents' money.

Eddie always loved the sea, and the Mediterranean is his favorite. It’s like a huge swimming pool, not as scary as the ocean but always full of surprises.

This time he is hosting the son of one of the richest men in the world and his friends.

He fucking hates them, they are obnoxious and more interested in party hard than sailing. He doesn’t know why they choose to book a yacht for two weeks if they are almost always on the islands drinking and partying.

They have thrown up on his yacht more than once and he had to clean after them. Obviously.

Thank god his friend Garreth is working with him this time or he is sure that he might have killed someone.

The most obnoxious of them all is the Golden Boy: Steve Harrington!

Since he explained to him that he doesn’t really speak Italian but some sort of old local dialect he refused to speak with him. Not that he really misses talking with someone who thinks he knows it all and wants to teach him how to drive his boat.

He is just waiting for this week to end so they can be on their way.

“The guys want to visit Stromboli to see the volcano erupting.” Garreth says to him while they are smoking a cigarette.

“Fine. We can get close to the island with the yacht and then get there with the dinghy.”

“That’s what I suggested, but they saw that there is a tour with cocktail drinks and they want to go with them.”

“Fine for me.” Eddie wasn’t expecting a day off but he’ll gladly take it.

“Steve is not going to join them so he wants you to stay available in case he changes his mind.”

For Christ's sake! He fucking hates that boy!

“Ok, there is no need for the two of us, I’ll stay in the port and wait to see what the rich boy wants to do, there is no point in wasting a day off.” Eddie winks at his friend “You should go see Chrissy.”

Garreth blushes “You know that she is too good for me.”

“Just go to say hello. For me!”

“Ok, for you!”

Eddie smiles, Garreth and Chrissy have been flirting since forever so he is pretty sure that she will be more than happy to see him.

He sighs and resigns himself to be at the rich boy’s disposal, while he makes use of his free time to clean the yacht.

He is almost convinced that the boy will not ask for his services when he sees him walking drunkenly toward the tourist quay.

“I want to go to Stromboli.” The boy states.

“You must be joking!”

“My friends are sending me some pictures and I want to see the lava.”

“You will see it another time! I’m not going to sail with you while you are drunk!”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Yes you are and I’m not crazy enough to take you on a boat!”

“We could use the dinghy.” Steve proposes.

“It’s too far for the dinghy.”

“Come on! It’s just the two of us! I’m sure it can take us! Maybe it’s you that can’t drive us.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your opinion. I’m the owner and I said no.”

“Ok.” The boy turns toward another man “Hey, will you take me to Stromboli on your dinghy if I pay you one thousand dollars?”

The man looks at him astonished and quickly nods.

God, this stupid rich boy is going to kill himself and he will not be responsible for that.

Steve tries to get on the dinghy and he doesn’t fall into the water only because Eddie quickly grabs him.

“Ok, ok you win, rich boy. I’ll take you. But you have to stay at my side like a good boy.”

For a moment Eddie sees a mischievous smile on Steve’s face but he agrees.

“What about my money!” the other man asks.

“We both know that you can’t get to Stromboli from here with a dinghy, so let’s say that this never happens and I will not have to report you to the authorities.”

The man growls something but says nothing more.

Eddie gets the yacht ready and they sail toward Stromboli. They are halfway through when the winds start to change.

“We have to go back.” Eddie states, looking worriedly at the sky.

“We are almost there! Come on! I want to see the lava.”

“If we get stuck in a storm you will see no fucking lava!” Eddie replies while he tries to turn the yacht and go back, but the waves become bigger and bigger, and then their motor gives out.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“The motor is dead.”

“WHAT?!”

“The motor is dead. We must take the dingy.”

“But you said it was too far!”

Eddie can’t see the island, but they have to find somewhere to stop quickly if they don’t want to spend the night on the yacht, or worse.

“Get on the dinghy!” he yells, throwing the anchor.

For once Steve obeys and they both get to the dinghy.

There are a few little volcanic islands where no one lives but where they can find refuge if they are quick enough.

“Sit down and try not to fall in the sea, ok?”

Steve nods, scared, and Eddie manages to take them to a little island in the blackness of the night.

“I’m not going to spend the night on a fucking island.”

“Fine. Go back. You can swim, can’t you?” he mocks him, while he drags the dinghy on the sand.

“Let’s go back, we can still make it!” Steve complains trying to push the dingy back into the water while Eddie is dragging it out.

“Stop it! If you broke the propeller we are fucked!”

A loud crash makes him still in his steps.

He runs to the back of the dinghy and sees the propeller broken.

“Stupid rich kid! Now not only do we have to spend the night here but we cannot go back tomorrow morning!” he screams.

“We can ask for help and…”

“Good luck with that. There is a fucking storm!”

Eddie drags the dinghy to the shore and then finds some pieces of wood and makes a torch.

“You have to make it right! I’m paying you! You have to bring me back!”

“You know what, fucking moron? You can shove your money up your tight ass! I’m sure you can’t make a torch from your fucking credit card!” he replies angrily and then he goes back to search for a place to hide from the storm. He sees a cave, he looks around but he sees no animal tracks, so he decides that he can sleep there.

“This place smells like dead fish.” Steve complaints.

“Go find another place. You don’t have to stay here with me!”

Steve stiffens but doesn’t move.

Good.

For once he is quiet.

The dinghy propeller is fucked but they can still paddle back to the yacht and hope that the yacht survived the storm and the stupid motor would start to work again.

But all these are problems for his future self, right now one of them has to keep guard while the other sleeps.

“I’ll take the first watch, sleep. I’m going to wake you up when I need a change.”

“Can’t I… Can’t I stay with you?”

“Are you scared big boy?”

Steve shivers for a moment, then he slowly nods “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Eddie looks at him astonished. The obnoxious rich boy is scared of the dark?

“Are you kidding me?”

He shakes his head “And I’m terrified of water.”

“Why did you book a yacht if you are terrified of water?”

“My parents want me to overcome the fear. They say that’s ridiculous. But they weren’t there when Barb died. I was thirteen years old. She fell into the quarry. They found her body a week after she disappeared.” he stops for a moment, lowering his eyes “I found her body. I used to swim in the quarry at night. It was a test of bravery.” Steve takes a deep breath “Have you ever seen the body of a drowned man?”

He did. More times than he likes to admit. And it is not nice. He can only imagine what a saw like that could have done to a thirteen-year-old kid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

Eddie sighs, gesturing to the boy to get closer to him “You can stay here with me. I’ll watch over you.”

“Like a guardian angel?” he laughs.

“Something like that. Now try to sleep.” They sit together for an hour, and then Eddie feels Steve’s head on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem such a pain in the ass when he is sleeping. He lets him sleep on his shoulder until he sees the sun rising.

“Sleeping beauty. Wake up. We have to try to go back to the yacht.”

“Can’t we stay here?” Steve asks in a sleepy voice.

“In a cave that smells like dead fish? I’m sure you have something cooler to be.”

“I don’t want to go back. My parents think that I’m not good enough and my friends want to spend time with me because I’m loaded and I can offer them the fun they want.” he sighs “You are different. You don’t give a shit about money. You fucking hate me. And still, when needed you were there.”

Eddie is surprised by Steve’s confession, and when he sees that his sat phone is finally working he turns it off.

“I think we can stay for a little bit. Would you like some fish for breakfast?” he asks with a smirk and Steve nods, eagerly.

“You are going fishing?”

“We are going fishing baby, I think that I can teach you a thing or two if you let me.”

***

When they finally call for help a couple of days later, Steve is not the same person that ruined Eddie’s life.

When he is relaxed he is fun, caring, and a very quick learner.

He ditches his friends as soon as they get back, and when he leaves he promises to come back.

When Steve comes back, a year later, he speaks perfect Italian and he is looking for a job.

“I thought you were loaded.” Eddie says while they are drinking a beer at Chrissy’s bar.

“I was. My father disinherited me so now I own only my luggage and a few bills."

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. That’s the fucking best thing that ever happened to me. So. About the job. I heard that you need help on your yacht.”

“Thanks but me and Gar are fine and…”

“Sorry to break it to you but I think that Garreth is ready to quit.” Steve says pointing to the couple at the bar counter “But I’d like to take his position if you want me.”

“Aren’t you scared of the water?”

Steve looks into his eyes and says “If I’m with you, nothing can scare me.”

It feels like a declaration, so Eddie kisses the boy in front of him as he secretly would have liked to do the previous year “The pay is shit and the work is hard. Some tourists are horrible but cute.”

“And what about the captain?”

“He is beautiful and available for pretty boys.”

#tumblr fic #myfanfic #steddie #au gust 2023 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #writing challenge #shipwrecked #medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic

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deckhanddetailing · 1 year ago

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Deckhand Detailing - How to Keep Spiders Off from Your Boat?

If you are looking for an effective solution for how to keep spiders off from your boat? Deckhand Detailing is the right place for you with its nominal solutions to keep spiders off your boat. Start by regularly boat cleaning and use spider repellent sprays, insect foggers, an ultrasonic spider repeller, or natural remedies like vinegar or peppermint oil to deter them. Seal any cracks or openings where spiders can enter. Regularly inspect your boat and take proactive measures to maintain a spider-free environment. Trust Deckhand Detailing for expert advice and services on keeping spiders off the boat.

#Keep Spiders Off from boat #boat detailing #deckhand detailing #seattle boat cleaning services #marine detailers #yacht detailing

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tarlosweeklyprompts · 2 years ago

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TWP: March Word of the Day Fic's Masterlist #2

List #1 HERE

March 19: Sour

Sour by @chaotictarlos

The New York Taste Expert by @lightningboltreader

I Love You; I Want Us Both To Eat Well by @alrightbuckaroo

March 20: Fond

Fond by chaotictarlos

Fond by @detective-giggles

Your Palate is Inspired (E) by lightningboltreader

March 21: Letter

Letter by chaotictarlos

Letter by bonheur-cafe

P.S. I love you by @sugdenlovesdingle

WTF is Yacht Rock? by lighteningboltreader

Letter by detective-giggles

left it all all on the cold floor by @angeltk

March 22: Apology

Apology by chaotictarlos

Apology by detective-giggles

Apology by bonheur-cafe

Clark Kent by sugdenlovesdingle

When Clean Up Packs a Punch by lightningboltreader

March 23: Partner

Partner by chaotictarlos

Partner by detective-giggles

Apology & Partner by bonheur-cafe

At Your Service by lightningboltreader

Austin TX First Responders Week by @sugdenlovesdingle

March 24: Anxiety

Anxiety by chaotictarlos

Anxiety by bonheur-cafe

Sleep Will Be Sweet by lightningboltreader

March 25: Path

Path by chaotictarlos

Lucky Dog by lightningboltreader

March 26: Home

I'm Coming Home by lightningboltreader

Home by chaotictarlos

March 27: Family

Family by chaotictarlos

My Family, More or Less by lightningboltreader

March 28: Worry

Worry by detective-giggles

Off duty by chaotictarlos

Were We Robbed? by lightningboltreader

March 29: Chaos

Chaos by chaotictarlos

Chaos by bonheur-cafe

Basking in Your Attention by lighteningboltreader

March 30: Midnight

Midnight by chaotictarlos

Starting Over is Impressive by lightningboltreader

March 31: Wedding

Wedding by chaotictarlos

Chaos and Wedding by detective-giggles

No Shame at the Derby by lightningboltreader

Underneath the midnight moon by @meditating-honey-badger

#twpmarchdailyword #tarlos #tarlosweeklyprompts #carlos reyes #tk strand #tk strand x carlos reyes #tarlos weekly prompt #911 lonestar #tarlos fanfic #tarlos prompt #911 ls #tarlos fic rec #fic rec

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totothewolff · 6 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection

[🗯+18][👩‍❤️‍👨 Toto x reader(fem service staff)][💘 Romance][🥵Smut][🎀 Age-gap][❤️‍🔥Daddy Kink][🛳Yacht Culture][✍️WIP]

Summary: The number of sleepless nights you spend thinking about what you would say to his face, to that gorgeous, gorgeous face, if he ever dared to cross your path again. And here you have him, the fucker! Did he get amnesia or something?! Why is he acting so calm? As if Toto didn't leave you the way he did? The fact he still looks at you THAT way after all these years, and he is aging like a fine wine, looking even better with those couple of numbers added to his age. Still fit, still charming, still intimidating, still him, doesn't help you remain angry at him for abandoning the ship. No pun intended.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist >

3 - Not all who wander are lost

Your life after Toto and college has gotten much better. You like your current job. It's not the highest salary, but it's enough to enjoy yourself, buy cute clothes, and invest in revamping the apartment you once shared with your aunt.

It's nothing glamorous, though. It's just some cosmetic repairs and better decor, but you couldn't imagine affording it before.

Humidity is such a bitch in Monaco. There's more hidden inside those walls than you expected when you started restoring them.

Your phone buzzes in the front pocket of your washed-down tiny shorts, the ones you are wearing right now along with an old oversized T-shirt. A proper attire for working with paint!

A text from an unknown number got in.

"Are you in town?" it reads.

You dismiss it and continue your "Bob The Builder" activities.

"I'm near your place," comes a following text.

"Hi, wrong number! No idea who you are."

"This is Y/N's number, right?"

"Yes... but who is it?"

Now, you need help. You have all your friends and family in your contacts, and then a photo loads in the chat before you can text back.

It's a picture of one of Toto's hands. His long fingers appear in the snap as he is about to press the bell button of your unit's building.

It takes you a minute to grasp the reality of what the fuck is going on.

Okay, this is indeed happening.

This is not one of your fever dreams.

Don't panic! Don't panic!

Fuck. It's been a while.

Fuck! Fuck!

For the past four years, you have successfully avoided the thought of him.

You even feared it, back in the day, knowing quite well what the mementos of Toto did for your body and mind. A lethal cocktail for your mental health and well-being. Self-harm is a dangerous buddy you don't want to welcome back.

You did your best to get clean of him, casting Toto away from your soul and memory till there was left no trace of him in you at all.

And now this?! Shit.

But your body reacts on its own and instinctively for you, hitting the button for the entrance to get open so fast.

A buzzing sound on the front door allows Toto to access your building.

What the fuck?! What was that sort of Spider-Man reflex?! Girl, get yourself together, jeez.

Toto's footsteps on the stairs and a soft knock on your door follow.

You walk so quickly to get the door, more than you feel proud to admit, already feeling the self-love leaving your body by your actions.

Fuuuuuuck.

The view that greets you feels like something out of a stupid rom-com movie. Argh! Toto is the reason why you despise those films and distrust men, romance, and relationships.

He looks gorgeous as fuck! With that stupid beautiful face and those ridiculous bambi eyes, he is putting on, holding those stupid breathtaking flowers, and sporting that perfectly tailored suit, accentuating his best features.

He is aging like a fine wine and looks even better with those couple of years added to his age. Still fit, still charming, still intimidating, still him.

He is holding a massive bouquet for you. In his other hand, he carries a paper bag with a bottle of wine and other items unknown items inside.

"This one is for you." The sound of his deep voice reaching your ears brings back many memories, more than you can handle and you don't know what to do, if you faint, scream at him, or cum.

To your lack of response, he moves to place the flowers in your hands, observing you frozen before him, and then reaches closer to kiss your cheek as a greeting, way too close to your lips and more tenderly and slowly as he should be allowed to.

That warm wet touch you feel in the corner of your mouth takes you out of the trance and back to reality.

This is happening, he is really here. It's not one of those frantic dreams you used to have, ala Bella Swan.

"And this is for your aunt," he adds as he walks past you and enters your place inviting himself in.

He goes straight to leave the bag on the brand-new trendy table you recently bought. That table at the momment is pulled all the way to a corner, away and safe from the chaos and the paint.

Toto is already walking around your apartment as if he had the right to it, checking out what's going on.

"It's a good thing you haven't changed your phone number! That's a nice wall color," he tells you with a big smile, his beautiful teeth showing.

Did he get amnesia?! Why is he acting so calm, as if he didn't leave you like he did and in pieces?

"Us regulars can go with just one phone number our entire lives, you know?" There's a hint of anger hidden in your first words to him. It's been a while, yet it feels like yesterday.

Oh, the number of nights you spend fighting to sleep in your bed, thinking about what you would say to his face if he ever dared to cross your path again, to that gorgeous, gorgeous face.

And here he is, the fucker! What a nerve!

You move peacefully to place the flowers in a vase, which is contrary to how you feel inside. Still, a frown is visible but you hold your feelings. You bite your tongue not to lose it.

Silence reigns for a moment.

"Are you planning on moving out?" Toto asks, his voice lingering with worry and nervousness. He points with his finger to the revamping.

"No, I'm just making it my own since now it's just me here."

His eyebrows go up immediately. "Is your aunt..?" He doesn't get to finish his question as you instantly reply, interrupting him.

"She moved in with her longtime boyfriend. It took her a while to finally decide to move out, she kept returning to the apartment most of the nights just for me, knowing I don't cope well with sudden changes or people leaving abruptly" There's the jab! You go, girl! "She feared I could go back into a bad place... once more." you finish explaining.

"The one you sent me to. Thanks for all the trauma you caused me!" it's what you feel like screaming at Toto, but you don't. You are grasping at composure with your nails.

Toto stares at you solemnly, sensing the mood shifting. "Frankly, it's going better than I hoped for. I'm surprised you are not screaming at me or slapping me so far," he expresses with a smirk, arms on his hips, flexing those biteable, toned arms.

Your eyes finally move from the water stream coming from the tap to face him. Hurt is visible in them. "It's been years, Toto. You chose to move on without me, and so I did."

He clears his throat before slowly walking closer to you, closing the gap between you, and stepping over the splatted plastic covering the brand-new wooden floors of your place on his way to you. It's the only sound heard in the apartment.

You feel a nervousness in the base of your stomach as his towering body approaches, feeling tiny and like a little girl.

"Answer me this question," he looks at you so intensely. You lean back on the kitchenette counter, his big body almost trapping yours against it. "Do you regret me?" he whispers, his body nearly rubbing yours.

You take a minute to answer.

"I do regret..." you answer, with each of your words gaining momentum and you pause to look up at Toto straight in the eyes, confronting him, not letting him win. The man looked so hopeless for a second, and so tempted to break those inches setting you apart and taking you right there in the spot. "...not grabbing that juicy tip you offered me." You let out with a smile, feeling victorious.

You little shit. His facial reaction is a poem.

If he wants to play games this time, they will be with your rules.

As the bottle of wine reaches its end and the coat of paint on the wall is almost complete, he taunts you with the fresh brush he's holding, getting you an ivory splat of dye on your forearm with a cheeky smile.

You playfully toss yours on his way, staining his nose too. You two start making a mess, throwing paint at each other.

"Hey! Don't fuck up my clothes! Is this your cheap excuse to make me take off my shirt?" he teases you.

"Oh, no, none of that! I love myself nowadays!" you snap back, laughing.

"Fuck you," Toto pushes you to the side.

"Let's grab dinner somewhere. I'm getting high with this smell! I need some fresh air" Toto invites you.

And you accept.

Being around him feels so good. Indulging yourself with him is fixating and delicious, like the most fantastic and fatal drug. You have his full attention, and you can make him laugh and smile like that and make him look at you with those eyes in THAT way.

The moment he reaches your cheek over the table to caress it with his hand and thumb, provoking you to close your eyes, rub against it, and seek more of his touch immediately, enjoying the contact of his warm skin on yours desperately, makes you feel like a trained pet waving his tail to his master, and it breaks something inside you.

God, you used to be so desperate for him, craving anything he gave you. No matter if it were crumbs or leftovers, you would settle for anything to have him even if a little, a taste. Gosh, you were so young and dumb.

By the moment you get the question that Toto silently asks you with his imploring eyes, as he drops you back at your place late in the night after spending an honestly great time together downtown, you are strong enough to resist it.

Even after you two just had a, you don't want to throw around the word "date," but yeah, basically, you just had one. You feel powerful enough to shake your head no, even if, in reality, you were scared to death by what Toto provoked in you with the simple touch of his hand.

Oh, and to think there was a time when the mere idea of Toto taking you someplace fancy, out of that fucking Yacht Club, in public, holding the door open for you, pulling your chair, looking at you with adoring eyes across the table, and sharing soft touches and kisses here and there, was something you only could dream of and you used to beg for it to happen.

As you take off his jacket, the one he gave you to keep you warm in the nightly breeze now by the entrance door of your building, Toto's eyes speak volumes to you, almost in a plea to let him inside, not only into you but into your life once more, into your bed and fill you every single inch till your very core.

You feel his nose tenderly brushing yours, the warmth of his mouth brushing your lips, his muscular arm stretching next to your face as he leans in on you.

"Good night, Toto. It was great seeing you," you say almost in a whisper, getting on your tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek before entering back to your place without looking back, without falling for it.

Every once in a while, texts from Toto arrive.

As the days go by, your chat remains pretty active.

Here and there, you two have a casual call to share, you know, life or when important things happen.

Maybe once a month, you find yourself Facetiming with him when you feel you miss or need him, even if you hate to admit it, or when he feels he wants to tease you by appearing with his shirt off, just wearing those briefs that leave nothing to the imagination and make you salivate.

The number of immediate likes he gives you on Instagram every time you post something —the only social media account you own, and that he has, you are sure he mentioned one he only joined for you— constantly reminds you that Toto is there, looking over you. That you still his girl.

It doesn't matter if you appear in photos hanging out with random dudes or kissing your new Portuguese boyfriend. Toto still leaves you a like, maybe just to let you know he saw it or to remind you he is there for you no matter what.

He gets to know all about your relationships anyway, even the details.

How can the two of you talk about each other's love lives? It's an enigma your friends simply don't get. Speaking of, some of them are team Toto and others just hate him. Calling your weird status as toxic or codependent.

You don't let them know the whole truth, it's mostly about your love life you two talk about.

Toto only has flings, and sometimes, he doesn't even remember the names of the girls he sleeps with. He confessed to you during a drunk call around 3 a.m. - he went out with his friends on a boys' night out - that he only fucks girls that are the spitting image of you.

But still, none of you seem able to dare to talk about your past relationship, which is something that needs to be studied.

Two more years pass by without seeing each other in person, until that one day Toto randomly shows up at your place at a terrible time. Which wasn't a mere coincidence.

You are dealing with your painful breakup with "the French boyfriend", which Toto knows as "The One".

You believe he showed up to be supportive, since and by accident while entirely intoxicated, you disclosed to Toto on the phone in the middle of the night, that same night right after Manu ended things with you and you sought comfort in a bottle and his voice, that you felt Manu was the one, that this one truly hurt, not as much as when he left you, but close second.

And that you had no idea how to fix things with Manu since what he asked you was to get rid of "your dynamics" before he agreed to move further with you.

"To leave the other relationship you sustain! Which sometimes feels like the real one!" the memory of Manu confronting you comes alive in your mind, while he raises his voice, angry and jealous, referring to Toto and what you share.

Toto and you are having the most friendly chit-chat, chilling around in your finally completed, rebuilt place. When he lets you know, he will be staying in Monaco for some weeks this time.

"I'll be staying at the Yacht Club," he says and looks amused at your reaction to his words.

"Shocker!" you answer, pulling a faux stunned face, making him chuckle.

"Well, not so. That place has outstanding customer service! 5 out of 5." His eyebrows go up and down several times, teasing you and hinting about your past whereabouts. "Well, still..."

"Oh, so you are fucking the girl in turn?" escapes your lips, without much thought, interrupting him.

Yes. You are still bitter after all those years, even if you like to pretend you are not. Four? Five years have passed by?

"I didn't mean that," he clears his throat before answering. "You cut me halfway through the sentence, well, still... it's not the same without you. That's what I was going to say."

"Oh, please, don't mind me if you are doing so! It's none of my business. Just, if you have another fiance you want to leave, please inform the girl she's an excuse beforehand." You start vomiting words coming from deep within you, out of nowhere. Jesus! Since the break up you have been so incendiary.

"Like a ticking bomb!" your aunt described your current mood perfectly.

Shit, sentiment got the worst of you, and Toto's presence is not helping much either.

It gets quiet and awkward so fast.

"You weren't an excuse. You were the reason," Toto confesses, getting visibly irritated too.

"Ahem... Weren't you already running away from her? If I remember correctly, that's why you arrived at the Club unexpectedly in the first place! Before you got yourself all inside me, and what for?! Oh, yeah, to immediately leave me? That makes total sense! How romantic of you, thank you!"

"It wasn't the right moment for what you asked of me. You were too young, and we just had met, to move in that fast. I wasn't ready for that back then, to take you fully as my responsibility. It was for the better. I don't regret my actions." He sounds dead honest.

"I wasn't ready then?!"

You roll your eyes at him, and you're done with the conversation. You change the subject. You don't feel like going to war right now.

The following day, at dawn, Toto is already there at your place, all joyful, with iPad in hand, as if you hadn't discussed heavy subjects last night.

He always looks too comfortable in your place, claiming the armchair for himself as usual.

Some minutes later, another couple of knocks come on the door. Toto quickly gets up, stretching those long muscular legs as if he knew who was on the other side.

He skates in his socks, like a kid, on the freshly cleaned wooden floor and avoids stomping the Roomba currently doing its work, on his way to get the door.

He lets in his hot, busty redhead assistant.

She enters your kitchen holding two massive fancy paper food bags. Toto made her get you breakfast from your favorite dinner in town. He still remembers which one is it and your favorite order.

As you finish setting the table, his assistant prepares him his coffee, grabbing things from your drawers.

Yeah, girl, go ahead! Feel free!

Halfway through your Croque Madame, you remember you need to install a higher bookshelf, so you ask Toto for his help.

"I don't do that, but my people will handle it. Please leave it to me, anything you need." He offers you a big smile. "You know that, right?" he looks straight at you, placing his fork down on the table for a second. "Anything you need of me, you just ask me for it, a quick text or a call," he leans forward on the table. "And I will get it done."

Your face shifts to an expression he wasn't expecting and a prominent frown forms on your eyebrows. "Oh! Now you do that, huh?! Good to know!" you let out, angry.

Fuck, here it comes.

He stares at you, serious. Everything goes silent.

"Y/N..."

"It's not like I had asked you for something before!" you laugh off, resentful. "Not a single "I'm sorry" has come out of your lips, yet"

"Kid, I won't ask for your forgiveness since I don't regret what I did. I have told you that before," he sounds solemn now, his smile fading.

"Don't call me kid," you answer, rage building up.

Okay, you sense those repressed feelings coursing out.

"Then stop behaving like one." He sounds so calm, but his voice is more in-depth than usual. His beautiful dark eyes dispatch you a glare.

Oh, he is mad but not as furious as you are.

"Would you mind?!" you let out loud, losing it at the noises coming from the kitchen amidst your fight. You turn your head to the hot girl still doing shit for Toto at the counter.

Okay, that was rude of you, but you are pissed off and this is your house!

She looks at you, perplexed, before nodding and exiting the place to give you two some needed privacy.

"I don't have to eat shit in my own house," you warn Toto, returning your attention to him.

"You are the one who allowed me back. You let me spend all the time I want here and be by your side whenever I feel like it. Oh, please don't tell me it didn't cross your mind all things that could happen by doing so?"

"Oh, right, then save me the fights. Why don't you go back to stay gone? How about that?! Why don't you leave, better? I mean, must be easy, you have done it before."

"Y/N," he exheals your name, exasperated, his hand running through his hair, a tic he has.

"No, seriously, 'cause I was doing perfectly fine without you! Or do you need to fuck me first to then disappear?"

HOLY FUCK! You are taking things that far? Phew.

Toto looks visibly hurt by your words, but he only slightly nods. He is still sitting in the chair across the table from you, arms tightly crossed, his tight white shirt displaying his muscles.

Then, starts shaking his head in an "I'm about to lose my cool" way.

And yet you dare to push for more.

You want to let it all out of your system. You have been holding it, eating them, carrying these feelings for years! And you are done.

There's no point of return when the following words exit your mouth: "Let me ask you the same question then, you showed up here, don't tell me you weren't expecting this," you point with your finger referring to this exchange, "to happen at some point after you had me relentlessly for your own enjoyment and pleasure, and then left me out of the blue, not caring about my feelings, why don't you use that energy better to..." tears are menacing to slide down your eyes, you finally lose it and he looks like he does too.

Toto looks at you with such dangerous intensity, then he jerks to his feet in a sudden move and drops his hands on the table forcefully, shaking it, before leaning in his tall body overpowering you still sitting down.

You immediately shut up, witnessing his reaction, his body language screaming at you, "Abort, abort, danger."

"Go on," a threatening sound comes from his trembling lips. It's both a command and a whisper. His long nose is almost touching yours, he leaned in so close you can see the pores on his skin. You can feel his anger and the extremely tense static in the air. "What were you about to say?"

"...To fuck another idiot who is willing to keep your bed warm, and your dick wet like I did." you let out against his mouth.

"You know quite well there's no other like you," he says without hesitation. His hand pulls you by the neck closer to him, his nails digging into your hair. He looks angry in capital letters.

"Lies. Be honest for once, say it" You confront him, no rodeos. Toto starts rounding the table, coming straight to you. He looks menacing.

You feel intimidated for a brief second before adding the killer punch, "You just were looking where put your dick in"

"That's enough!" In a brisk movement and with a firm grip, he pulls you up from the chair, wrapping your legs around his waist, and smashing his body and yours against the wall, pressing himself on you, with no inch of space between your cores, trapping you against his warm body and the cold wall.

He starts whispering to your ear and neck, "I keep coming to your place because I can't bear to be in my villa without looking at the bed and desiring you wrapped around me, bouncing on me, to be buried deep inside you, to have you moaning and begging me for more, don't you think that every corner of that place reminds me of you loving me" his hand slide from your calf to your tight. At the same time, he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips.

"I fucked your twin the night you didn't let me come in. You have no idea what number of girls I have called your name. They all look like you," he admits again between ravenous kisses as you run your hands on his hair and undo his shirt.

You feel the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins as your eyes lock and memories flood you until you finally can articulate between groans, "I missed you."

The corner of Toto's mouth twitches upwards into a small smile, his eyes sparkling with fervor. "I missed you too, kid," he replies, a hint of huskiness in his tone that is too much for you to bear, you feel yourself so wet.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, drinking you in like a thirsty man, and you suddenly feel naked under his gaze.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He still wears the one you picked for him, the one you liked, the one that's for you. His eyes meet yours again, and you mirror back that same hunger.

The years apart melt away like a morning fog, and with it, the anger, pain, and regret.

His lips brush over the curve of your neck, and Toto starts pressing in circles his erection against your thighs and core. You let out a gasp, the pleasure so intense that you break away from him.

"We shouldn't," you mumble, struggling for air. Toto's hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and you feel his smile against your lips.

"Yes, we shouldn't," he echoes your words, but his fingers are already tracing your lower lip, as addictive as always.

"But we will," you say as your fingernails dig into his now naked back, and you pull him closer by the waist, your legs still wrapped around him, and he captures your lips in a more urgent, passionate kiss as his dick gets pressed hard against you.

The more pieces of clothing slide from your bodies, the more urgent you two become. As if you two were magnetically drawn to each other, stumbling towards the bed, unable to separate a second.

He carries you there while smooching you, throwing stuff to the floor by accident in the desperate pursuit to merge your bodies.

"You have no idea the number of times I have jerked off to your boudoir photos; I need new ones," Toto mumbles as his intense gaze looks into your soul, stirring sensations that you had long tried to bury, memories that you had attempted to obliterate.

His thumb finds its way to your lips, gently pressing against the softness, leaving an imprint of his skin on yours before his mouth reaches your breasts, taking a rigid nipple within his lips, teasing it with his teeth and tongue until you cry out.

When he releases it, Toto turns his attention to the other breast, showering it with the same love and desire.

His hard-on is pressed into you, eager and persistent, a hot, demanding presence between your thighs. You let out a moan as you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer. With every lap of his tongue over your sensitive flesh, you feel your hips bucking against him.

You want him to fill the void he'd left behind. The throbbing of your pussy lets him know just how much it craves him.

Toto pauses for a moment as he takes in the sight of your sweat-slicked body, your heaving chest straining with every shallow breath. He reaches down and wraps his fingers around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance.

You feel the head of his dick rubbing along your swollen, aching pussy lips, the warmth of his skin so intense.

Toto leans back, his brow furrows with concentration, and with a crude growl, he pushes himself hard inside you.

You let out a guttural moan as he fills you balls deep, your bodies connecting in the most delicious of ways. After a second, his hips start to move in earnest, pounding into you with focused intensity.

There is no time for tenderness or affection, just two bodies engaging in an animalistic rhythm fueled by pent-up lust and long-denied desires.

Your nails cling to his sweat-dampened muscular shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as he smashes your pussy so hard.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I missed your tightness, this pussy," he grunts, withdrawing slowly before slamming back into you with bruising force.

The bed squeaks and creaks beneath you, and your intense pleasure movements shake the bed frame as well.

You can feel every inch of him, the veins snaking down the length of him, the hot, heavy weight of him inside you. "Daddy, more!" you cry out. He groans and flexes his hips again, grinding deeper.

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the room as he starts to piston in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

You hear the slaps of skin on skin as he thrusts you harder, as well as the growls of pleasure and the filthy, dirty talking that comes out from both your mouths.

It feels as glorious as you remembered it, this relentless pounding leading you to a fantastic climax.

"Oh daddy, daddy, daddy," you moan eagerly, hips colliding with his.

Toto is really here, plunging deep and hard all those years without him. Your hands grip the sheets, and you arch your back as his thickness claims you entirely, he is so fucking hard.

"Fuck yeah," Toto's voice is almost unrecognizable between your gasps and moans. "That's it, kid, take it all."

The scent of sweat and sex clings heavily in the air as you feel like your body might shatter with each push into you.

His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls you to another position again, and you claw and scratch at the sheets beneath, searching for something to ground you as he fucks you so painfully hard.

"Don't stop. Don't ever stop," you moan desperately, your teeth grit as Toto gives it to you relentlessly. "I'm so close, fuck! Please!"

You are his, completely and utterly and only his, after all these years. It's inexplicably raw and it shows in how you two are devouring each other at that moment.

"Oh," Toto moans loudly. His cheeks are all red, and his eyes are becoming watery.

Loud and extended growls from both of you start coming out as you reach your peaks.

Within a second, you feel yourself releasing with such force, unable to hold yourself a minute more, trembling on him.

"Kid, you are so gorgeous," Toto moans out as he enjoys the view of you, his eyes filled with lust as he watches you climax in front of him, dripping, enjoying that extra sleekness of leave on his hard cock for his final thrusts.

He is barely able to thrust you completely three times more before pulling himself out, quickly and between loud groans, as you stroke him, you feel his warm release on you, his cum falling in your skin and his big fat dick throbbing on your belly as you tenderly keep stroking it, enjoying the sensation of having him in your hand.

"I love you" he lets out, between heavy breaths and as sweat drops go down his muscular pecks and arms. You run a hand on his abs and hairy firm thighs.

When Toto wakes up after taking that much-needed post-angry intense sex nap and doesn't feel your body weight on top of his, he instantly knows what it means.

"Until you are willing to say I'm sorry, don't forget to close the door on your way out."

He reads on the sticky note you left for him on the pillow next to his.

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