Taylor Swift x Reader Imagines(GxG)

Blind date with my CEO? (No Smut but Dom/Sub dynamic)

Taylor is 28
Y/N is 19
Iam sorry for not updating much:( my anxiety lately is bad.
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I'mI got to the restaurant ten minutes early. Not because I was excited, though I guess I was, but more because I didn’t want to walk in and have that awkward "looking for someone you’ve never seen before" moment while sweating under the eyes of every diner. Blind dates are already weird enough.

The place was nice.

Really nice.

Candles on every table, actual cloth napkins. I tugged on my black dress, one of the only semi-nice ones I owned, and tried not to fidget. I’d already checked my phone three times, rereading Taylor’s last message:

“Looking forward to it. I’ll find you ;)”

It made my stomach flutter when I first read it. Now it just made me sweat. Something about that winky face was so confident. Smooth.
Grown.

And then she walked in.

I swear to god my heart stopped.

Taylor. Taylor Swift. My CEO.

I almost dropped my water glass.

Her eyes scanned the room. When they landed on me, her whole face softened, like she'd known it was me all along. She walked over, slow, assured, in heels that probably cost more than my rent.

“Y/N,” she said, like a secret. Her voice was lower than usual—intimate, velvety. “You look stunning.”

I blinked. My jaw might have been open. “Y-you’re... you’re Taylor?”

She smiled. “I was wondering when it would click.”

My cheeks burned. “You're my CEO.”

She leaned in, brushing a hand lightly against my shoulder as she pulled out her chair. “And tonight,” she murmured, “I’m your date.”

I couldn't tell if I was sweating from shock or... something else. But I sat, numbly, and tried to remember how to breathe.

The conversation flowed, surprisingly. Once I got past the whole I'm-on-a-date-with-the-most-intimidating-woman-I-know part, she made it easy. She was funny.

Curious.

Asked questions and actually listened. I kept catching myself being too formal,—slipping in a “yes, ma’am” once or twice by accident.

The second time I said it, she tilted her head, watching me carefully. “You keep calling me ‘ma’am,’” she said softly. “Habit?”

I swallowed. “Sorry. I guess... it’s automatic. Office mode.”

She grinned, and something flickered behind her eyes. “Don’t apologize. I like it.” Her gaze dipped to my lips. “Do you?”

I nodded before I could think. “Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed. Low. Dangerous. “Good girl.”

I nearly fainted again.

From that point on, the night changed. I felt it like a hum in the air between us. Every time she spoke, I listened a little closer. Every time she told me to try something—taste the wine, share a bite—I obeyed without thinking. And when she leaned in at dessert, fingers brushing mine, her voice dropped.

“Would you like to continue this… dynamic?”

I stared at her. My heart was pounding so hard I thought she might hear it. “You mean…”

“I mean,” she interrupted gently, “I’m used to being in charge. I’d like to explore that—with you—if you’re interested. But only if you want it, Y/N. No pressure. I value your boundaries as much as your… obedience.”

The way she said that word sent a bolt of heat through my chest.

“I… I think I do,” I whispered. “I want that.”

Taylor reached out and tilted my chin up with two fingers.

“Then here’s what’s going to happen,” she said. “You’re going to let me drive you home. And once we’re there, you’ll sit on the couch like a good girl. Wait. Listen. Follow. And if you do well, you’ll be rewarded.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I breathed.

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Taylor’s hand was warm on the small of my back as we exited the restaurant. But instead of walking toward the car, she stopped just outside, under the soft golden glow of an overhead light.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

I tilted my head. Music. A trio played nearby—violin, cello, piano. Romantic. Dramatic. A waltz.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“Good.” Taylor stepped in closer, her heel brushing the toe of my boot. “Dance with me.”

Here? In the street?

I must’ve hesitated, because her fingers trailed down my arm and she murmured, “Y/N. Eyes on me.”

I obeyed instantly. Her gaze pinned me in place.

“You want to be a good girl, don’t you?” she asked softly.

I nodded, breath caught somewhere in my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then give me your hand.”

I did.

She took it with confidence, sliding the other around my waist, pulling me against her. My body moved without thinking, following her lead as the music played. Her movements were fluid, practiced. My heels scraped the sidewalk slightly, but she adjusted effortlessly, keeping me close, guiding me like.

And then she leaned in.

Right against my ear.

Her lips barely brushed my skin as she whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to make you kneel for me.”

My breath caught, my step faltered—but she didn’t let me fall. Just kept dancing.

“I’ll take my time undressing you,” she continued, voice low and thick like honey. “Piece by piece. You won’t lift a finger unless I tell you to.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I gripped her shoulder tighter. People were walking past us, and I couldn’t even see them anymore.

“Then,” she said, her voice almost a purr, “I’ll have you crawl. Eyes up. Mouth ready. Because I’ve been thinking about how you’d look with your lips wrapped around my fingers since the day you joined the company.”

My knees nearly buckled.

“And later,” she added, her tone darkening, “you’ll lie back and let me wreck you. Slowly. Intentionally. Until all you remember is my name and the sound of your own moans.”

My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

The music swelled, spinning us gently in a slow, perfect arc. Her mouth was still near my ear, her hand firm at my waist.

“I’m going to make you mine tonight,” she whispered, brushing her lips along my jaw. “Is that what you want?”

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded.

“Use your words, little one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I breathed.

She smiled, dark and wicked, and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth—just enough to taste.

“Then let’s go.”

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