#ceo billionaire

[billionaireceo]

billionaire ceo, millionaire ceo, millionaireceoclub.com, https://www.MillionaireCEOclub.com

[harryspet]

well kept [3] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far :)

word count: 4.5k

In which it's your first day working from home with Rafe and you have a new lesson to learn.

well kept masterlist

The Cameron residence was fifteen minutes outside of downtown Charlotte and situated in a large neighborhood where hills and huge oak trees hid all the houses. You didn’t really see his house, only what you could tell was large pond, until the driver was at the end of the mile-long driveway.  When you did, you felt woefully underdressed. Assuming that being inside all day meant you could opt for something casual, you’d chosen a cream knit dress. 

Following Rafe’s instructions, you sent him photos of each outfit you tried on, but he hadn’t told you which ones you could return. It was another blow to your confidence. You began to doubt whether he’d even been serious, but the fear that he might mention it the next day kept you from taking any chances.

Stepping out of the black Escalade, your eyes widened as you took in the architectural masterpiece before you. The house was a striking blend of traditional and modern styles, with a light-colored exterior contrasted by dark shutters framing the windows. A stone chimney rose from the roof, and the three-car garage with wooden doors added a rustic touch.

After your car drove away, a tall and impeccably dressed staff member named Anthony guided you up the stone-paved driveway. From your cheat sheet, you recalled that he was the House Manager. Rafe required a full team: Anthony, two housekeepers, a private chef, a driver, a gardener, and now you—his personal assistant. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the exterior. The expansive foyer featured high ceilings and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To the left, you caught a glimpse of the formal dining room. Each room you passed was more impressive than the last. Anthony informed you that there were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

“I don’t usually work on Fridays but Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you a tour of the house and show you the ropes of house management. It’ll be important for you to be able to oversee the staff when I’m absent and understand the scheduling.”

Once again, it was all too much to take in. Today was your fifth day working for Rafe, and you’d barely survived until now. 

“I want to clarify that what happened yesterday stays between us. That includes Eleanor. Okay?”

That was all he said about his outburst. There was no apology for groping you, for pinning you down on his office couch, or for taking your virginity. If you were to tell the story, you’d have to mention how your body had betrayed you—not once, but twice. But you had said no. You didn’t want to use the word that described what happened to you. You didn’t want to think about it at all.

And it didn’t happen again—not over the next three days. He continued to be harsh, forcing you to apologize for every small mistake, even those you weren’t aware of.

As you followed Anthony through the expansive kitchen, you couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size and sophistication. The kitchen was a chef's dream, with gleaming marble countertops that seemed to stretch endlessly, state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, and custom cabinetry in a rich, dark wood finish. An oversized island dominated the center of the room.

At the far end of the kitchen, massive glass-paneled doors stood, offering a glimpse of the world beyond. The porch was furnished with elegant wicker seating with plush cushions. The space was perfect for elegant parties, with enough room to accommodate at least a dozen guests.

Beyond the porch was a stunning infinity pool stretched out towards the horizon. As you walked closer, to the right, you took notice of a garden. You spotted the gardener, Tyler, who Anthony had mentioned earlier. In simple clothes, the young man blended easily into the scenery. 

“This is where Mr. Cameron will typically entertain his guests,” Anthony said, 

The beauty of the outdoor space was undeniable, but so was the control that permeated every aspect of it. You wondered what hand Rafe played in how spotless it looked. You could almost picture him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with a harsh intensity, if even the smallest detail were out of place. It was easy to imagine him demanding that every leaf, every petal, every stone be exactly where it belonged. 

Did his staff ever make mistakes? Did he make them beg him forgiveness like he did with you? 

“Shall I show you the study? It’s approaching seven-thirty.”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He was kind but part of you didn’t want him to hear your voice shake or your face contort into an uncomfortable position as you struggled to get your words out. 

There would be enough struggling today, you knew that. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s home office was more quaint than you expected. Dark wood panneling decorated the walls as well as floor-to-celing bookshelves. As you made your way around the room, you took note of the picture frames containing images of what you believed to be his family. Here, it seemed he had a heart. The four of them stood on a dock, sun shining down, and his arms were wrapped a young girl with dark brown hair. His smile was genuine and there was darkness lingering in the blues of his eyes. 

Other than the bookshelves, the room only contained his desk, a set of leather couches and a coffee table. The smaller room still managed to exude sophistication but it was far less imposing than you expected. 

The room almost felt intimate as sunlight trickled in through light colored curtains. You were standing behind his desk, glancing out his office window which faced towards the nearby pond. Beside it, sat a gazebo, although you couldn’t imagine Rafe enjoying it. You wondered if he lived here alone as you saw no traces of the other three people in his family photo. 

“Boo,” You yelped as you heard Rafe’s deep voice. 

You placed a hand over your beating heart as you looked toward where he stood in the doorway. Having been deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door opened. He knew that much which explained the amused look in his eye.  

Everything flooded back at the sight of him. The air had already left your lungs. You felt his body pressing down on yours, warm breath against your ears, and that pain between your legs. 

The door clicked shut, making you flinch.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

It hit you then, you hadn’t greeted him like you were supposed to.

You were taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain navy t-shirt, a stark contrast to your heels and carefully applied makeup. You weren’t sure why you were expected to dress up, especially when he looked so casual.

“G-Good morning, Sir,” You crossed the room, his eyes locked on yours. You remembered where he liked you, near the door, ready to greet him and present yourself to him. You hated how your voice always betrayed you, how weak it made you sound. Your only saving grace was that you’d already memorized his schedule for the day, having spent the entire commute looking at your laptop. You recited it to him, including the midday Zoom call he had with Kelce and Topper.

Topper, you had learned, was Eleanor’s husband. Rafe hadn’t ever touched her but the way Eleanor always answered your questions with vague responses made you suspect that her relationship with Topper mirrored your own with Rafe. She hadn’t warned you but now you were suspecting that was because Rafe seemed to always get what he wanted, no matter who got hurt in the process.

You froze the moment his hand reached out to touch you. His fingers curled around your side, hovering just above your stomach but dangerously close to your breasts. His grip was surprisingly gentle as his thumb grazed over the fabric of your dress. You stiffened as his other hand mirrored the first, sliding across to the opposite side of your body. “Eleanor picked this,” he murmured, his brows knitting together as his gaze slowly traveled down your figure. A jolt shot through you as his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a wave of panic coursing through you.

“Y-You don’t like it?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He clicked his tongue, “Turn around for me.”

You did as he said, “Doesn’t do enough for your figure,” Your heart panged in your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your own shape, “Are you wearing the panties I sent you?”

All you could do was nod. Rafe never commanded you to wear the panties everyday to work but you didn’t risk it. Luckily, they were all comfortable despite the lace and cheekiness. 

“Pull up your dress,” He said next. 

You’d spent the last three days in a fog, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand why your body betrayed you. When you were younger, you always asked the universe why you couldn’t speak like the way all your friends at school did. Now you asked the universe why Rafe’s voice made you want to clench your thighs together. Why you had felt empty ever since he’d finished inside of you. Why you wanted to try again, to experience that intimacy again without so much fear. Your life was so simple before but now it felt like it was too late to turn back. 

Your thoughts were too jumbled. Rafe cleared his throat and you realized you were just staring back, “I’m not gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m nnn-nn-not comfortable—”

“Just do it.”

You reached down to the edges of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric to your waist. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen and yet you were shaking, “Turn around. Face the other way.” Like a robot, you obeyed. You’d chosen a light pink color today. 

“Good,” You felt him against you. He pulled your hair back over your shoulder and leaned down against your ear, “Maybe I should make you walk around naked while you’re here, hmm?”

You bit down on your lip, wanting to contain the protest that was about to leave your mouth. You wanted to lean into his touch, to embrace the comfort that would accompany the torture. He brushed past you just as you tilted your head back, “Go make me a coffee,” He commanded. 

He made his way behind his desk and you reached down to move your dress, “Did I say to pull your dress down?”

“N-No, Sir,” You moved your hands quickly to your sides.

“I could make you walk around like that, couldn’t I?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

He tilted his head and you realized you needed to answer. You gave him a painful look. You could say no but what would it cost you, “I . . . I don’t know,” He wasn’t satisfied by your answer, clearly. It was torture to force the words out, “Y-Yes.”

“Right answer,” He said, “Pull down your dress, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but see the irony in the fact that despite that you upgraded to a salaried job, you were still making coffee for the rich and spoiled. The opulent kitchen had an even fancier coffee machine than his office. Your movements as you prepared his steaming mug of coffee were precise despite the turmoil in your mind. 

Searching for solutions, your mind landed on the idea of trying to assert your competence. Sure, you could make a great cup of coffee but the whole point of getting a real job was so that you could have real skills to market yourself. You could be perfect at this job, anticipate his every need, and you could more than an object to look at. 

You re-entered his office quietly after realizing he’d begun his first meeting of the day. Carefully, you set his coffee down on the edge of his desk. He was always so intense, so completely absorbed in his work, and that unwavering focus made you even more anxious. Maybe that’s how you should be, more composed, projecting an air of confidence.

Unsure of where you should settle, you made yourself comfortable on one of the leather couches. You checked your email on your laptop, finding several reminders from Eleanor. You found yourself frustrated by how she picked and chose what information to share with you but you balanced those feelings with the fact that she was often your saving grace. 

She gave you a list of tasks including arranging for a delivery of documents that needed to be signed by Rafe, confirming his dinner reservations for the night, and proofreading the notes you took from yesterday’s meetings. You told yourself by the end of the next week, you’d be able to handle things by yourself, and you wouldn’t have to lean on her so much. You’d have a day, eventually, where Rafe didn’t point out anything you did wrong. 

“I was thinking-” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence. You were so focused that you hand’t realized his meeting had ended. He folded his hands over each other, his eyes on you, “From now on, I want you to wear what I pick for you each day.”

“How …y-you’re not happy with what I’ve been choosing?”

“It’s not about not being happy. Now I have more of an idea of what I like on you,” His voice was smooth and authoritative, “You want to reflect my taste, my standards, yeah?”

You mustered the courage to ask your next question, “Can I-I dress a l-little less … formally when I work at home with you?”

“Less formally?” He tasted the words on his tongue, “You mean, like more casual?”

“Yes, Sss-sir. Like more comfortable.”

“We could experiment with that,” His tone was deceptively light, “On my terms though. Yeah?”

You nodded and were grateful that he hadn’t reacted lightly. He seemed to enjoy that you were asking him for permission.

“You’ll have to wear something different tonight though, for dinner. Eleanor is coming by towards the end of the day to bring you your outfit and take you to get your nails done.” 

“Oh,” Your eyes opened wide, “I-I thh-thhought it was more of a personal-”

“I won’t keep you out forever,” He said, “You got plans or something?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Sir.”

Rafe worked through lunchtime, so you brought him the meal prepared by his chef, Stevie—an elegant older woman with blonde hair. She had made a pesto pasta salad that looked like it belonged in a gourmet magazine, despite your protests and insistence on eating your own packed lunch. Only after delivering the meal did Rafe grant you permission to take your break elsewhere.

You settled on the outdoor patio by the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the space despite the distant, steady hum of a lawnmower. For a moment, you didn’t feel out of place. Your dress, though apparently unflattering to your figure, was worth a small fortune, and the gourmet lunch you were now enjoying was a far cry from the PB&J you’d packed.

Thirty minutes later, after finishing your lunch and enjoying a lengthy chat with Stevie, you reluctantly headed back upstairs. Hearing Rafe still on the phone, you decided to explore a bit more. His office was situated in the private wing of his house, and as you meandered through opulent corridors, you couldn’t resist sneaking a glance into the master bedroom. It was cozier than you had anticipated, with tall gray walls that gave it a masculine feel and a plush bed draped in navy linen blanket that created a snug, cocoon-like atmosphere.

Rafe ended his call a minute later and the afternoon wore on. You settled into a rhythm, completing the various tasks that you’d added to your own to do lists and ones he’d assigned to you. You spent some time organizing files in his office. His gaze burned into you, even more when you were turned around, and surprisingly, you were starting to get used to that unnerving feeling. 

He waited for you to make a mistake but you used a hundred-percent of your effort to make sure that didn’t happen. 

The clock inched towards the evening, and the day grew even more quieter, more intimate. “I was looking over your notes from yesterday’s meeting with the board members. I highlighted some sections for you to read back to me,” He waved you over, his voice gruff after a long day of talking. You joined him behind his desk and you moved to lean over and get closer look, but he placed a hand on your hip. The gesture was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. With effortless strength, like a wolf guiding its prey, he maneuvered you onto his lap, settling you on his thigh. You felt the power in his grip, the unspoken control, and all you could do was comply.

“Rafe–” You started, an desperate attempt at a protest. 

“Start with the first section,” He commanded, his grip tightening. 

“I’ve been working on proofreading them–”

“Sweetheart,” He warned, not needing to add that you were making him angry. You could feel it, the heat coming off of him. 

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to read each sentence. Even if you didn’t have a sentence with a small typo, you still stammered over several of your words. He slid the chair closer to the desk and you yelped. 

“See right here,” He pointed to the screen but that only pressed him into you. You breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, “This whole section needs more detail. I don’t want to have to ask more information.”

You were taken aback when Rafe actually began to instruct you on what you were meant to do. He spent at least ten minutes walking you through each sentence, explaining how to word your report, and deleted all the unnecessary details you added. He was surprisingly patient. 

“Now, your turn,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, you thought he was letting you up, but the pressure of his hand on your waist told you otherwise. “Fix it.”

You swallowed, hesitating as your fingers hovered over the keys. Ever keystroke was amplified in the quiet room. Doing your best to actually use your brain, you carefully made the changes he suggested. He watched you closely, his hands first placed on your hips but soon one wandered between your thighs. 

“Good,” He said. You could do it again, you thought, and not be so scared. His touch was teasing, a reminder of what he could do to you, all the pressure that built inside of you a spilled over. You could impress him, you could be beautiful, and not turn into a crying mess when he was inside of you. You could be more than a fragile thing to be broken.

Each word was a small victory. It was a battle you thought you could win until his fingers slipped inside your panties and his other hand grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. It was unbearable, and as he made small circles, you found your fingers slipping clumsily over the keys. 

You pressed your palms into his desk, your body tilting forward. A frustrated sigh left your lips, you couldn’t contain it, and Rafe’s chuckle rumbled from behind you, “Do you ever touch yourself like this? Be honest with me this time.”

“Y-Yes,” You whispered. 

“How do you do it?” He pulled you away from the desk, pulling your torso against his, “You use a toy?”

“J-Just my fff-fingers,” You admitted. 

“Like this? How do you like it?” Carefully, he switched between different approaches. He rubbed circles over your clit, smaller ones and then slower, bigger ones. Then he stroked you up and down, fingers slipping easily into your warm hole as he wandered lower, “You put those little fingers inside of you?”

“Rafe, please.”

“Tell me,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Or I’ll stop.”

"I-I don't usually put them inside… ," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I always use my pillow…”

He hummed against your ear. "See how much better this is when you cooperate? You can be such a good little assistant when you try."

You nodded, unable to speak, and let the feeling consume you. He brought you right to the edge, you were seconds away coming undone, but his movements slowed. Before you could register the feeling as disappointment, Rafe was hoisting you off of his lap. 

Moving with sudden determination, your feet were suddenly off the ground and Rafe was carrying you out of the room in his strong arms, “Rafe!” You clutched his shoulders as he carried you down the hall.

You turned your head as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut reverberating through the room. With a swift motion, he laid you gently on the bed. The softness beneath you was just as you had imagined, but the thought barely registered. You shot him an incredulous look, your face flushed with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He leaned over you, grabbing a pillow from behind you and placing it in front of you, “Show me.”

You shook your head instantly and moved to crawl away. Somehow, you could let all of his other sleazy behavior slide by but this was an insane boundary for him to try to cross. He’d already been inside you and yet this was a thousand times more intimate. 

He grabbed ahold of your thigh, “You’re so close, sweetheart. I know you want it,” He challenged you, “Probably feels like you need it.”

“Please,” You tried, your voice threatening to crack. His hands found your hips again, slowly positionin you over the pillow. The soft fabric brushed against your most sensitive spot, the familiar sensation making you bite down on your bottom lip, “Rafe.”

“You saying my name like that just makes me want it more,” Balancing on his knees, he grabbed ahold of your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the intensity of his desire, how much he wanted this, and it left you dizzy. 

When he pulled back, he looked over you. Your hips started moving in a familiar motion despite your embarrassment. You trembled from the vulnerability, the pounding in your chest, but you chased that high he gave you. It ignited your fire again, and since you didn’t have the full force of his touch anymore, you focused your eyes on him, “Good girl,” He said again and you whimpered, “Look at me just like that.”

You rolled your hips harder, faster, imagining his kiss, his touch, as the tension coiled tighter inside you. His gaze never left yours, his words a constant stream of encouragement and control.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” 

His words all jumbled together. 

“Just let it happen.”

“I want to see your face when you cum, sweetheart.”

“You look so desperate.”

“So needy.”

“You’re gonna make yourself cum, huh?”

“Just because I told you too.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you.” 

The words pushed you over the edge, finally, and you were able to let go. He watched as you rode out that wave of pleasure and his hands found your body again, his grip grounding you. “Fuck,” You heard him say but you couldn’t respond. 

You were too overwhelmed to respond, your mind unable to fully process what had just happened. All you knew was that you felt good, embarrassed, and strangely satisfied that you'd pleased him, all at once. 

When you manage to look at him again, the doorbell rang. 

Eleanor navigated through the upscale nail salon, a palace of white and silvers, with ease, like she was a regular, and this was just an extension of her universe. You imagined this place as an escape for her, from both Rafe and Topper. She secured side-by-side seats near the back of the salon and you followed her lead as she set down her purse and removed her sandals. Her movements were fluid and assured. 

“Have you thought about what color you want?”

“Oh, um, n-no,” You tried to make yourself comfortable in the pedicure chair, “What d-do you think Rafe would like?”

“Maybe something pastel. You can’t go wrong with a soft pink.”

“Is that what you’re getting?” You asked, unassured, as you glanced around the luxurious setting. It wasns’t like other nail salons you’d been to where the technicians and customers talked at whatever volume they liked. It was quiet and each technician wore matching black uniforms. 

“I’ll tell them you want ballet slipper on your nails and white on your toes.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance, “Thank you.”

As your pedicures began, the warm lavender-scented water soaking your feet, two technicians took their places by your sides, working silently as they filed your nails. 

“How are you holding up?” Eleanor asked.

“Fff-fine,” You said, “I’m trying to . . . t-to understand him, I guess.”

“You’ll go crazy doing that,” She laughed lightly, flashing a look that said “poor you”. 

“How d-did you meet Topper?” Her face tightened at your question, “I mean, y-you didn’t say.”

“I’m from the same town as them, Rafe and Topper. Not really the same town, my parents didn’t have money growing up. But I worked at the country club they all went to. That’s how I met Topper.”

“And you started dating?”

“Something like that,” She made a small shrug, “I owe everything I have to them.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of her words despite the lack of detail. Another piece to the puzzle you were trying to put together. Maybe the two of them had an attraction to girls struggling to get by.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She asked and it made you pause.

Your instinct was to mirror her shrug, but you hesitated, wondering if you could trust her with your thoughts. If anyone could understand what you were going through, it had to be Eleanor.  “I-I just ffff-ffeel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only heard good things.”

“A-About me?” She nodded and your lips parted in shock. 

“Yes. I know you feel uncertain right now, but I think you'll be glad if you can stick it out. Topper… he’s a bastard, but he takes care of me. Rafe likes you too. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it, but…” She paused, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s filthy rich. That would be enough for me.”

In that moment, her brutal honesty felt almost like reassurance. You weren’t sure if Eleanor truly grasped the extent of Rafe’s inability to show affection, that his pleasure came from humiliating you, from making you cry. Just as you couldn’t fully know what she endured with Topper. Her words weren't necessarily comforting but at least they felt real.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

[csuitebitches]

what my finance mentor, who manages a billion-dollar portfolio sent me this morning

I’m going to start sharing the resources he’s been sharing with me. You can find everything on my pinned index post, under “Mentor recommendations.”

[thoughtportal]

Dude who makes $250 million a year tells people should work for the love of it

[littlefireling]

For @lucienweekofficial Day 1 - Gentleman

Lucien as a modern day gentleman ☀️🍂

Art by: @alienbabydraws

Commissioned by me (@littlefireling)

Tysm for this stunning artwork! He looks AMAZING <333 Honestly, amazing isn’t even an adequate word for him 😭 SHEEEEEEEESH

** Reposts are okay with proper credit**

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Please check Intro about me ;) , my masterlist :) , Requests (& Rules) ^^

I'm currently in my writer's era, so I wanted to publish this Fanfic I've been writing for the past few weeks. I've always had POVs and ideas for stories in my head but I stored them away in my notes app or my diary. But this one, I wanted to share. (I publish on Wattpad as well but my reach over there SUCKS.)

Consider giving this story a read and tell me what you think of it. Leave your comments and feedback, I always appreciate it. I'm still a beginner, so there might be some errors here and there. If you spot any please tell me and I'll correct them.

I'll try to upload weekly or whenever I finish writing a new chapter.

WARNING ⚠️ This story is for matured readers since there's smut, mention of alcohol and strong language.

Ready? Let's get in.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Description:

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆...

He knew that this marriage was under his agreement that it's only valid for a year. But once their contract ends and Aria tells him she is carrying his child, his protectiveness, possessiveness over her increased a ton more. He didn't want this marriage to last more than he wanted but now he can't live without her.

Bang Chan x fem/OC - Arranged marriage. Mature content. Cold Husband. Billionaire. DUAL POVS

TW ❗❗: Pregnancy (I know not everyone enjoys this trope but I can assure that once you read it you will understand the plot. Do consider giving it a chance)

This story contains mature content such as mentions of alcohol, sex and strong language. 🔞

Note: Underlined chapters are already published and non underlined ones are upcoming. Ones marked in red contains smut. At the end of each chapter, the next one is linked.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 13

Chapter 2 || Chapter 14

Chapter 3 || Chapter 15

Chapter 4 || Chapter 16

Chapter 5 || Chapter 17

Chapter 6 || Chapter 18

Chapter 7 || Chapter 19

Chapter 8 || Chapter 20

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3. New tags will be included in the upcoming chapters, but please note that I won't be updating the taglists in previous chapters.

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[afterthelambs]

Old money evil vs. New money evil, choose your fighter

[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Family Affairs

Part 1

CEO Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, some 18+ content, sexual words

Summary: You and Dick have been dating without your family knowing. What happens when they find out the truth?

Note: This part is a really really short teaser and has nothing to do with the Titans world. (YOUNEVERASKEDFORTHIS) it is also very badly written the 2nd part will be better swear....ENJOY! Y/n calls Dick, Gray due to his last name, Grayson. Im not trying to write Dick that many times!

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“Gray I don’t like when you buy stuff for me...especially this much stuff”. You say, while looking at the five bags in your boyfriend’s hand.

You guys just got done looking at ten stores in the mall. Your feet hurt from all the walking and you were finally ready to go back to his penthouse where you have been staying for the past couple of months. He tells you to just move in with him, but you like the thought of being an indedpendent woman that doesn't need to rely on a man...still you take his card to pay for things. Dick wouldn't want it any other way.

“I told you already that anything you want, it’s yours. You don’t have to feel bad about me spending money on you…it’s my favorite thing to do and trust me I have enough” He says smirking at you, giving your hand a squeeze.

You kiss Dick on the cheek and continue walking through the mall. He stops in front of a lingerie store and grins at you. You roll your eyes, but smile back at him.

Dick pulls out multiple bra sets and fancy underwear, for you to try. Your boyfriend does more of the shopping, smiling like a little kid, in a candy shop. After he is happy with the sets, he tells you to go try them on for him. You go into the back and usher him to follow. Once inside the fitting room, you start peeling off your clothes and putting on the lingerie. What is supposed to be a fun fashion show for your boyfriend, turns into a hot make out shesh.

“Fuck baby, you're so hot the outfit just adds to it” he whispers into your ear, while grabbing a handful of your ass.

You moan into his ear while fumbling with his zipper. “Please Gray, I need your cock inside of me right now”.

He smirks at the sound of your whimpers, starting to moan when you start palming him through his boxers. You're just about to get on your knees, when a knock sounds on the dressing room door. “Excuse me ma’am are you alright in there?...it’s been 20 minutes” the worker says. At this moment in time you're so glad its one of those dressing rooms where the door goes all the way to the floor, not showing your feet or in the case yours and Dick's..

You blush and Dick chuckles at your embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be out in a second...these outfits are so hard to get out of” you nervously chuckle.

She responds with an “ok” and leaves the area. You're pretty sure she heard you guys fooling around, but think she's too embarrassed to say anything...Fuck you're embarrassed yourself.

Dick zips up his pants and grabs the lingerie. "You know the outfits aren't the only things that are hard" You slap his arm in response and he laughs.. "Just trying to lighten the mood".

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Gray, we can never do that again” he acts like he doesn’t know what you're talking about and continues walking.

“Seriously any kind of action in public, is off limits… I don’t know what I would do if we got caught, it would be so embarrassing and that situation was enough embarrassment for me” You look him in the eyes, dead serious.

“Yeah but it’s kinda hot...don’t you think? Having to be quiet so no one will hear you, but its so hard for you because I make you feel so good you'll want to scream out my name, huh baby” he winks at you and takes your hand.

You bite your lip at your boyfriend and start to lean in. He smiles back at you and places a hand on your cheek “I love you Y/n” he looks at you, leaning in just to the point that your lips graze each other.

“I love you t-"

“Y/n?” You look away from your boyfriend to see your aunt looking at you. What the fuck?!

How were you supposed to explain that you had a boyfriend that you have been dating for a year, almost two, and have never mention it to your family once? Every time they ask, you always deny that you have anyone special in your life. On top of that, how were you supposed to explain that he was a top billionaire?

[expulence]

[probablyasocialecologist]

CEOs, who make thousands of times as much money as their employees say they work 55-hour weeks. A 2012 Wall Street Journal survey found that eighteen of those hours are spent in meetings (rituals which, as any office worker knows, accomplish nothing). CEOs devote another five hours of their work week to meals. They spend another twenty hours on travel, exercise, personal appointments, and other activities. CEOs claim Pilates class, the daily commute, therapy, sessions, sharing memes as hours worked and holding grudges against comedy websites. The rest of us can not. In all, a CEO’s productive time is limited to twelve hours a week: significantly less time than that of a typical bartender. But CEOs cannot admit that. They must pretend that they work much harder and spend their time much more productively than their underlings in order to justify having a salary thousands of times higher. They are imposters.

Raquel S. Benedict, Is It Imposter Syndrome? Or Are We All Imposters?

[harryspet]

well kept [masterlist] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, NONCON/DUBCON

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Epilogue

rafe cameron masterlist

[ninassoul]

I need my Italian billionaire ceo husband who’s deeply in love with me right now

(Lorenzo, my love hmu)

[scalproie]

Quick list of things Vergil and Kazuya have in common:

Blue and purple (purple as V/Nelo Angelo for Vergil and blue with the blue lightnings and the "dark blue star" title for Kaz)

Dead mom

Heavy chest injury at a young age (impaled by demons at 8 years old for Vergil and chest torn open by rocks at 5 years old for Kaz)

Eldest Brother

Longstanding rivalry with younger white/silver-haired brother

Half-demon

Favors the demon side

Has two demon forms, a standard one and a more powerful one

P O W E R

seeks endless power as a misguided desire for self-protection

Had lots of people killed

No-nonsense personality

Canonically Fucked™️

Died at least once

Has a deadbeat reputation even tho was unable to be present for the kid anyway on account of being dead

Currently middle-aged

Complicated relationship with son

Lost against, was spared and arguably saved by son

Unusual specific interests (William Blake poems for Vergil and Sneakers Collecting for Kaz)

Slicked-back hairstyle

Brought back from the dead due to popularity

Iconic Drip

Franchise defining memes (the chair/motivation/bury the light, ➡️⭐️⬇️↘️🟡/cliff-tossing/the smile)

Was the final boss in two games

Was banned from tournaments in another fighting game

SUPER strong, one of the strongest individual in fact

Hot

I love them so so so much

[queerism1969]

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Synopsis: A marriage that is only valid for a year as per his contract. Once it's over, he is happy to let her go. Or is he not...? Find out what happens ;)

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 1

Aria

The warm scent of the vanilla candle spread across the room filling my senses as I came to reality from my thoughts that this really is happening.

I was in the bride's room, sitting in front of the mirror as my sister did my make-up and my mom prepared my gown. Today was supposed to be the best day of my life. Walking down the aisle and getting married to the most handsome man I've laid my eyes on.

He was perfect in every way a family wanted in a son in law. Smart, heir to Aurelius; a high luxury fashion and lifestyle brand company, reserved and knows when to speak.

My last relationship ended in the worst heartbreak possible, I lost every ounce of interest in dating and marrying the man I will fall in love with.

But I agreed to this marriage under my soon to be husband's insane agreement no woman will ever accept. Regret began to claw my mind as the last night's memory replayed in my thoughts.

The night before the wedding...

The tension in the atmosphere was thick and unfamiliar. The man sitting in front of me, his cold demeanour sent shivers down my spine. Everything about him felt perfect outside, but he has a heart made of ice, not even the sun's hot temperature could melt it down. His leg was shaking beneath the table, he was pinching the bridge of his nose before he sighed heavily.

"I'll get straight to the point" he said, looking at me straight in the eyes, his gaze was burning with anger or irritation. "I am not interested in getting married this young but I am doing it for the sake of my father and I believe so are you?" He asked me, his voice thick like gravel with a heavy Australian accent.

"Yes. I am not interested in marriage or getting a partner at this moment either but I agreed to this for the sake of my parents- They want me to get married" I said looking at him and my eyes fell on the glass of whiskey on the table.

"Good, then I have one thing to tell you before I marry you tomorrow" He said, his voice serious, a stern edge cutting through the tension in the room. I looked up at him as he slid a document that looked like a contract-

"I want you to sign here that you are agreeing to get married to me only for a year. When the year ends, we will separate and go our own ways. Seeing that neither of us want this, I feel like this works for us"

My eyes widened in horror. A year? My mind raced with thoughts of what this meant for both of us, and for our families. I picked up the document with trembling hands, scanning the text quickly. The terms were clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more, with a clear expiration date.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked, my voice shaking as I tried to swallow the thick lump formed in my throat, threatening to choke me. "What about our parents? They don't know about this."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and gulping down the last sip of his whiskey, his frustration palpable. "They don't need to know. This arrangement is for us, not them. They'll be happy thinking we're married, and in a year, we'll part ways amicably. It's the best solution."

The room suddenly felt smaller, as if it was trying to crush me within the walls. "What if they find out? Or have other expectations?"

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," he said dismissively, his gaze unwavering. "Right now, we just need to get through this year. After that, we're free."

Free. The word echoed in my mind. Was I really ready to be tied down, even temporarily? A temporary wife to a man that doesn't value the definition of marriage? But backing out now would mean disappointing my parents, facing their inevitable heartbreak, confusion and disgrace in front of the guests.

"Alright. I'll sign this" I finally said, whispering so low, my voice was barely audible to my own ears.

He slid a pen across the table, I picked it up, my hand hovering over the paper. I was signing away a part of my future, a part of my life, even though it was only for a year, my heart clenched in my chest tightly, it hurt. As if someone was squeezing it without mercy despite my pleading.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the pen to the paper and signed my name, the ink sealing my fate.

"Good," he said, his tone remaining rough. "We'll make this work. For our families."

I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and dread. Tomorrow, I will be a bride. Not out of love, but out of duty. A temporary wife. And in a year, I would be free again. At least, that was the plan. As I stood up to leave, he called out my name, I turned back to look at him, trying to hold back the frustration.

"One more thing," His eyes locked with mine. "No one can know about this. Understood?"

I nodded, the thought of living a lie for an entire year made my stomach churn, the drink I had an hour ago threatened to make it way back up.

"Good. See you tomorrow at the altar"

I walked out of the room, my mind racing in a tornado of thoughts. Tomorrow, everything would change.

And in a year, it would all be over.

My mind came back to reality again when my mom gently touched my shoulder, indicating it's time to get dressed in the gown. I looked at her face, her eyes held happiness and excitement, unaware of the turmoil inside me.

I forced a soft smile. The weight of the contract I signed last night still ate me alive. As I slipped into the elaborate, gorgeous white gown embodied in crystals, its incarnate lace and beadings felt like chains rather than a celebration of love or any feelings at all.

The bridesmaids fluttered around me, adding the final touches and adjusting the veil, their voices were a distant hum, I was drowning in my racing thoughts.

One year of pretending. Pretending that I am happy with this man. How can I get through it? Could I keep up with the charade without slipping?

The questions gnawed at me but there was no turning back now. I had the time to turn back last night but now I have signed my life away. Well, at least only for a year according to the contract.

The next moment, I stood at the entrance of the chapel, the heavy wooden doors towering above me. My heart pounded in my chest, I could swear it would break through my ribcage. The chatters and murmurs of the guests seemed to merge into one enormous roar, growing louder by each passing second.

My father appeared next to me, he took my arm, his grip was firm but comforting. "You look beautiful darling", he whispered in a soft tone, filled with a mixture of pride and concern.

The voice in the back of my mind screamed at me to tell my father that this is all a lie, about the contract, but I couldn't bring myself to tell those words to him. Instead I forced a smile and nodded at him, unable to trust my voice.

The large doors swung open, the music from the grand piano started playing as my father and I stepped into the chapel. The sudden shift from the chaotic noise to the serene, harmonious melody inside was almost surreal.

As we walked down the aisle, I could feel the weight of the gazes on me, each step making my heart race faster. I looked up in front of me, my husband was standing with his hands clasping in front of him, wearing a crisp navy blue suit, his hair was pushed back and dyed brown, 7 men standing beside him, all of them wearing the same matching suits their expressions a mix of joy and solemnity.

My father's grip tightened as we reached the end of the aisle, he whispered words of encouragement, barely audible over the gentle strains of the piano. I glanced at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears and pride.

My heart swelled with emotion, knowing how much this day meant to him as well. As we reached the altar, my father lifted my veil, fully revealing my face to my husband, unaware that I'll be living with this man in front of me only for a year.

He didn't even smile at me, his icy cold demeanour froze me stiff as I stood there, we turned towards the officiant as he cleared his throat, bringing our attention to him.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." but I couldn't focus on his words. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

The year-long agreement hung heavy over me, a stark contrast to the joyous occasion it was supposed to be. I stole a glance at my husband, his expression unreadable, a mask of indifference that sent a chill down my spine.

"Do you Bang Christopher Chan, take Aria Evelyn Scott to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

There was a brief pause. The chapel seemed to hold its breath, the silence almost deafening. My husband's eyes met mine, locking his angry brown eyes with mine before he replied,

"I do."

The officiant turned to me, "Do you Aria Evelyn Scott, take Bang Christopher Chan to be your lawfully wedded husband...?"

"I do," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

The officiant smiled gently. "May we now have the rings?"

One of the groomsmen stepped forward, his beautiful blue hair and freckles outshining his suit, handing the rings to the officiant. He blessed them before giving one to my husband.

He took the ring and held my hand above his and slid the ring onto my finger. His touch was cool, but the metal of the ring felt colder. I took the other ring from the officiant, my hands trembling slightly, slipping the band onto his finger. The officiant's smile broadened.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

My husband took one step closer to me and leaned in, he held my face and brushed his lips against mine. His lips were soft and he tasted like whiskey, I swallowed hard when he pulled back. The chapel erupted in applause, but I felt detached, like I was watching someone else's life unfold.

My bridesmaid handed my bouquet of white tulips back to me, my husband held his arm to my side and I slipped my hand in, looking at the crowd, my parents and in laws watching us with emotion and pride filled in their eyes.

As we walked down the aisle, my hand holding his arm, his eyes never met mine after we exchanged our vows. I wondered how I would endure the next year. I drew strength from my father's earlier words and the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

But for now, I had to face the uncertain path ahead, one step at a time.

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Hello my lovelies! I'm glad to see that you have made it to the end of Chapter 1 of "Thawing his Heart" 🖤 First of all, I wanna thank you for checking out this story and making it to the end🫶🏻 I hope you liked it and will continue reading the upcoming chapters.

Leave your comments and let me know what you think. I always appreciate feedback and valid criticism. This story has a lot of inspiration from movies I've watched and books; especially from a Bollywood movie from the 2000s, my favourite books and others. I wanted to put a mix of everything that heavily inspired me to create something of my own.

I'm hoping to make this story to the end at least, unlike my last one which wasn't fully successful ^^;;

This story is entirely FICTIONAL. Stray Kids are merely fictional characters in this story, none of this represent their real personalities and behaviours. All of the inspiration credits go to the respectful authors and artists.❗

Here's an aesthetic for this story:

Thank you for reading!

xx, Ivyy

Next Chapter

[the-posh-life]