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crookedteethed · 20 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 the good girl . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　the introduction (1)

synopsis -- Rafe is infatuated with you, his new secretary; something about a trip to Morocco. Rafe is in debt and wants you to pick up a bag of cocaine from Barry for him.

warnings: 18+ mdni mostly through Rafe's (perverted) pov, cursing, ward is still alive, smut but through fantasies, angst, Slight Dark! Rafe, drug/alcohol usage

a/n: I don't know anything about real estate so please don't take the buisness portions in this series seriously.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter | word count: 3.2k

You and Rafe had four scheduled meetings together before noon, each one dragging on with the monotonous drone of old men discussing business.

Rafe, easily bored, found his attention drifting away from the discussions and towards you. He couldn't help but notice the delicate beauty marks scattered across your smooth crossed legs, a detail he had committed to memory by the third meeting.

He longed for your soft voice as he listened to the sound of flapping cheeks and tedious numbers being tossed back and forth. Every now and then, just to hear it, he would interrupt with a simple question in your ear: "You got that down?"

And in response, you would always give a respectful "Yes sir" or a subtle hum on quieter days.

Rafe would watch you intently as you quickly scribbled down notes about whatever mundane topic was being discussed by the mortgage broker--so you can recite to him later.

Despite the dullness of the meetings, he found himself amused by your presence and secretly looked forward to these moments shared between just the two of you.

And then, like clockwork, that smart ass Pope Hayward would lean in and whisper something in your ear, too, ruining everything for Rafe.

Hayward had worked for R&P, the mortgage brokers for Cameron Development, and would often attend their meetings. He always sat beside you, on the opposite side of Rafe, where he was conveniently hidden behind your body and out of Rafe's line of sight.

Rafe thinks this is a sneaky move on Hayward's part since Rafe had suspicions that Hayward may have a crush on you, which only fueled his anger towards Hayward and the meetings.

If Rafe ever discovered Heyward's true feelings for you, he wouldn't hesitate to resurrect the violence of their teenage years. He'd make you watch as he reminded Heyward exactly who you belonged to, letting Heyward's blood stain his thousand-dollar leather shoes. After all, what better way to prove his love than marking his expensive Italian leather with the consequences of wanting what's his? Some men send flowers – Rafe Cameron sends messages written in bruises and blood.

The boardroom felt thick with tension as Rafe's attention ping-ponged between the financial reports and the way Heyward kept leaning toward you. His knuckles turned white around his Mont Blanc pen every time Heyward whispered something in your ear, every time you smiled politely in response.

The irony wasn't lost on him – Heyward's own secretary sat barely three feet away, yet here he was, hovering over what belonged to Rafe. His secretary. His territory.

By the fourth meeting, Rafe found himself on the brink of madness, his father, Ward Cameron, drawling tone grating on his nerves.

Mentally detached, he fantasized about indulging in a line of cocaine to awaken his senses, only to have his mind wander to envisioning himself ravishing you right atop the conference table in full view of everyone.

His imagination spiraled further, picturing the new maintenance girl he saw a couple nights ago, pleasuring you while you, upside down like a flipped turtle, sucking his cock.

A sudden pang of guilt hit Rafe as he remembered that he needed to order another batch of his "special" supplies from Barry.

He wondered if you, his new secretary, would be willing to make the call for him. His former assistant would have handled it without question, but she was long gone now.

Rafe resumed thinking about you, him, and the maintenance girl having a very sexy threesome on the conference table; he's jolted back to the present as his father's voice rings out, drawing his attention to the press room, where every man's gaze is fixed on him.

The gentle touch of your hand on the padded sleeve of his suit stirs him, and he feels like popping a boner from your warm touch.

He asks Ward to repeat himself.

Ward's voice was agitated, his tone indicating his impatience with his son. "Rafe, I want you to deal with the Morocco situation," he repeated firmly.

Later on, Rafe fumed over his father's request in his newly personalized office. Rafe's response was harsh and tense as he spat at his father, "How fair is it to dump all of this on me?!"

He had initially been planning for a sleek, earthy-toned with a black and brown look for his office. But when you mentioned your preference for dark blue and white, Rafe couldn't resist. After all, he always looked delectable in those colors, you told him (and yes, delectable was the exact word you used). So Rafe dropped his original design and went with a nautical theme instead.

"Well, son," Ward's voice cut through the air like ice, "if you could tear your eyes away from your secretary for five minutes, you might understand why the Morocco deal is crucial for this company's future."

Rafe's jaw clenched. "I wasn't--"

"Save it," Ward interrupted, his calm facade cracking. "I've seen this before, Rafe. The way you look at her, how you've redecorated your entire office to her taste. Just like all the others." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "How many secretaries have we lost because of you? How many NDAs have I had to sign?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air. Rafe's hands curled into fists, his cerulean eyes darkening with something dangerous. "This one's different," he growled.

"That's what you said about the last one." Ward's laugh was bitter. "And the one before that. Face it, son - you're becoming predictable. By this time next month, I'll be interviewing replacements. Again."

"Look," Ward's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, but Rafe wasn't about to let him finish that thought.

"No, you look," he spits at his father. "You're always pulling this crap on me - sending me off to do your dirty work like some kind of expendable pawn. 'Send Rafe to northwest Africa for two months, with our worst fucking clients' " Rafe said, fake laughing and clapping all the while." Well the joke's on me, isn't it?" Rafe's eyes blaze with anger and bitterness as years of resentment bubble to the surface.

The words flew out of Rafe's mouth like venomous arrows, each one stinging with a sharp and bitter rage. "You wouldn't dare do this to Sarah, dad--your perfect little princess. But me? I'm just the expendable son, right? Send me on a ten hour flight, unpaid, to fix someone else's mistakes!" His voice dripped with disdain as he imitated his father's words in a mocking tone.

But Ward was not cowed by his son's outburst. "Rafe, please just calm down and listen--"

Rafe's words were sharp as he cut Ward off. "Don't play dumb with me, Dad. I know exactly why you're sending me to South Africa - it's a punishment, a way to get rid of me." The tension in the office was thick and palpable as Ward yelled back, their argument echoing off the walls for all to hear.

But amidst the chaos, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity and nosiness. You had been waiting outside Rafe's office, ready to deliver an urgent message about his 3 o'clock lunch meeting with another Mortgage Broker, Dennis Rutherford.

As time ticked by and Rafe's chauffeured car waited impatiently outside, you knew you had to intervene before it was too late.

Bursting into the office uninvited, you were greeted with the sight of father and son locked in a heated battle, their words laced with anger and resentment. This was not just another work disagreement - this was a deep-rooted family conflict that threatened to tear them apart.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen." you awkwardly say, getting both men's attention.

Had it been anyone else, Rafe would have immediately fired them for barging in like that. However, since it was you—and he hadn’t yet had the chance to sleep with you—Rafe merely shouted a sharp "What?!" that made you recoil in fear. He felt awful about your reaction but thought he could make it up to you later when his tongue is knee-deep into your pussy.

"Your 3'oclock, sir--with Mr.Rutherford." You say, trying to mask their intimidation.

"Shit." Rafe cursed, swiping a hand across his growing buzzed head. "Did you call the chauffeur?" he asked you.

You acknowledge with a bow of your head, responding, Of course, sir, as you pass his briefcase into his hands. Rafe longed to refer to you as his good girl, yet with his father present in the room—and after already��being seen openly "oogling" you earlier by his father and possibly others—he hesitated.

While escorting Rafe from the office, he looks at you and remarks:

"Join me and Rutherford for lunch."

Your heart races as you scramble to find an excuse. "I-I have a mountain of work to catch up on--"

"I don't recall asking you," he sneers, cutting you off. "I was telling you."

Twenty minutes past the scheduled meeting time, and Rafe had already downed three vodka shots, each one burning away at his paper-thin patience. The bar at Roots, despite its upscale pretense, felt suffocating.

You'd been to countless lunch meetings with him before, but something about today felt different. More dangerous. Maybe it was the way his leg kept brushing against yours under the bar, or how his cerulean eyes seemed to devour you between drinks.

Rafe Cameron, with his old money and expensive tastes, ordered another round. You watched, entranced despite yourself, as the alcohol stripped away his careful facade, revealing something raw and hungry underneath.

"Have a drink with me," he murmured, his voice honey-thick with liquor. His glazed eyes fixed on yours, holding secrets you weren't sure you wanted to understand.

"I believe one of us should stay sober, sir," you replied, fighting to keep your voice steady. The 'sir' slipped out automatically, and you watched his pupils dilate at the word.

A dark smile played at his lips as he closed his eyes, savoring your voice like another shot of vodka. Something about your presence seemed to intoxicate him more than the alcohol – a power that thrilled and terrified you in equal measure.

His hand found your knee under the bar, and you clutched your purse tighter, using it like a shield. Rafe noticed – he noticed everything about you – and his smile turned predatory.

"Just one drink," he pressed, sliding a virgin cocktail toward you. "Let go for me." The 'for me' sounded more like a claim than a request.

Forty-seven minutes in, Rutherford finally arrived to find Rafe thoroughly drunk and dangerously unraveled. The moment shattered as Rutherford launched into a tirade about debts – \$250,000 worth of them, spread across every loan shark in the city.

You shifted in your seat, uncomfortably aware of Rafe's heat beside you, the way his expensive cologne mixed with top-shelf vodka.

"The money's coming," Rafe slurred, but his eyes remained sharp, calculating. "Big deals in the pipeline. Major commissions."

Rutherford's lip curled in disgust. "Better hope so, Cameron. Or things get ugly."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Rafe's fist clenched on the bar, his other hand still burning against your knee, his whole body vibrating with barely contained violence.

His thoughts scattered between the mounting pressure, the need for chemical escape, and the way your pulse jumped in your throat every time he leaned too close.

Without realizing it, Rafe grabbed your shoulder roughly and whispered in your ear, nearly dislocating your shoulder blade in the process.

Rafe's desperation was palpable as he leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. "I need you to do something for me," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. "There's a guy named Barry. He's got something I need. I need you to pick it up for me."

Your heart raced as you realized what he was asking. "What is it?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe hesitated, his gaze shifting away. "It's a bag of cocaine," he admitted finally. "I need it to clear my head, to think straight. And I need it now."

You knew the risks, but Rafe's desperation was undeniable. He was in deep trouble, and he needed your help, as you looked in those glossy cerulean eyes of his. "Alright," you sighed, "I'll do it. But this is the last time, Mr. Cameron, what will your father think?"

"What he thinks of me already—that I'm just a Rafe, his screw-up of a son," Rafe replied. Despite this, a look of relief spread across his face, although the predatory gleam in his eyes remained. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled business card, pressing it into your palm with trembling fingers. His touch lingered longer than necessary, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Barry works out of the Bellamy Building on 5th," he whispered, his hot breath reeking of vodka against your ear. "Suite 401. Tell him Rafe sent you. And for God's sake, don't let anyone follow you."

Rutherford watched this exchange with cold calculation, his jaw clenched tight. He knew exactly what was happening – he'd seen plenty of rich boys like Rafe drag their employees into their mess before.

You gathered your things, trying to ignore how Rafe's eyes followed your every movement. Just as you stood to leave, he grabbed your wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise.

"One hour," he hissed. "I need it in one hour. Don't disappoint me."

The weight of what you'd agreed to settled heavy in your stomach as you walked toward the exit. Behind you, you could hear Rutherford's gravelly voice resume his threats, but Rafe's attention remained fixed on your retreating form until you disappeared through the door.

The Bellamy Building loomed like a tombstone against the afternoon sky, its worn brick facade a testament to forgotten glory. Inside, the elevator's slow climb gave you too much time to think – about Rafe's hungry cerulean eyes, his lingering touches that burned like brands, how every "yes, sir" seemed to draw you deeper into his web.

Suite 401 lurked at the end of a dimly lit hallway, distinguished only by tarnished brass numbers. Your knuckles rapped against the door – twice, then three times, just as Rafe had instructed. The sound seemed to echo down the empty corridor.

The door creaked open just enough to reveal a sliver of face: tired eyes beneath greasy long black hair, calculating and cold. "Barry?" Your voice emerged steadier than your racing heart. "Rafe Cameron sent me."

The door groaned wider. Barry matched his surroundings perfectly – disheveled but alert, like a crow picking through society's remains. His office was a study in decay: nicotine-stained walls, flickering fluorescent lights that made everything look diseased, and an ancient desk that had witnessed too many secrets.

"Well, well," Barry's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Another one of Rafe's girls." He studied you like a specimen under glass. "You know, you're all starting to blur together. Pretty. Proper. Corruptible." The last word dripped with dark amusement.

He slid a small package across the desk, but when you reached for it, his fingers trapped yours. You jerked the package away.

Inescapably, Barry's raspy laugh followed you as you ascended down the hallway, bouncing off the grimy walls like a bad omen. "Tell Rafe his debt's getting steep," he called after you, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "And honey? Better watch yourself! Pretty secretaries like you have a way of… disappearing around Rafe Cameron."

Barry's laughter echoed through the grimy hallway, following you like a shadow as you rushed toward the elevator. Each click of your heels against the worn floor seemed to mock you: Pretty. Proper. Corruptible. The words burrowed into your mind, mixing with memories of Rafe's heated stares and possessive touches.

Your mind kept circling back to Barry's words – "disappearing around Rafe Cameron" – like a moth drawn to a deadly flame. The phrase echoed in your head, mixing with memories of Rafe's possessive touches and hungry stares. Each floor the elevator descended seemed to bring a new question: How many secretaries came before you? Where did they really go?

The package felt heavier in your hands as you realized maybe it wasn't just cocaine Rafe was addicted to – maybe it was the thrill of watching people fall into his web, one pretty secretary at a time.

The elevator doors couldn't close fast enough. In its mirrored walls, your reflection looked different somehow – as if Barry's words had marked you, changed you. Your phone buzzed in your purse, Rafe's name lighting up the screen, and you realized with a shiver that maybe Barry was right. Maybe you were already corrupted – after all, here you were, picking up cocaine for your boss in a building that reeked of broken dreams and dirty money.

But that didn't mean you were corrupted by Rafe specifically… right? This was just part of the job. Just another task, like scheduling meetings or taking notes while he stared at you across the conference table. Just another "yes, sir" in a long line of things you told yourself were purely professional. Even if your heart raced every time he got too close. Even if you kept saying yes to things that crossed every line you'd ever drawn.

You were just doing your job. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

Back at Roots, you found Rafe alone, Rutherford's absence heavy in the air. His hands trembled as you passed him the package under the bar, his relief palpable. Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and led you to the private bathroom in the back.

The fluorescent light buzzed overhead as Rafe arranged neat lines on the marble countertop. You turned to leave, but he caught your reflection in the mirror.

"Stay," he commanded softly. Then, more vulnerable: "Please."

You watched as he inhaled sharply, his body relaxing as the cocaine hit his system. When he straightened up, his eyes met yours in the mirror – pupils blown wide, but somehow clearer than before.

"Barry mentioned the money you owe him," you say carefully, your voice echoing off the pristine walls of the family restroom. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across Rafe's sharp features as he straightens up from the sink, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Suddenly, the mood shifts. His cocaine-induced sniffles transform into something that sounds devastatingly like tears.

"You know what scares me?" Rafe says slowly, his cerulean eyes never leaving your reflection. "Not the money I owe. Not my father. Not even my fucking addiction." His voice cracks perfectly – a rehearsed break he's perfected over years of practice.

"I'm nothing but Dad's fuck-up son. A disappointment. A monster." He laughs bitterly, running a trembling hand through his hair. "But you… god, you're different. You're so good, so perfect. The best secretary I've ever had." His voice drops to a reverent whisper. "The way you anticipate my needs, how you handle everything with such grace. The only one who's ever really seen me, really understood."

His fingers trace your reflection in the mirror, and his eyes darken with something dangerous. "You're too pure for this world, too good for someone like me. The way you look at me like I could be better… like I'm worth saving…" He shakes his head, voice thick with manufactured emotion. "It kills me knowing I'll destroy you too. Just like I destroy everything else I touch. But god, you make me want to try to be better."

Your heart ached at his words. Without thinking, you reached up to touch his cheek, your palm cradling his face as if you could hold his broken pieces together. "You're drunk Mr. Cameron, you don't mean any of these things do you?"

"Rafe," he interrupted, leaning into your touch like a starved man finding sustenance. "Please… just call me Rafe." His cerulean eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

But you noticed, even through the haze of this intimate moment, how Rafe never actually answered your question. Like everything else with him, the vulnerability was a beautiful distraction from the truth.

You saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the pain, the self-loathing. It made you want to save him, to prove him wrong about himself. And that's exactly what he was counting on.

Because what you missed, in that moment of compassion, was the calculating gleam behind his tears. The slight upturn of his lips as you fell perfectly into place. The way his hand tightened possessively on your waist, marking you as his next conquest.

"I know I can be a lot sometimes, but I need you to stay my secretary, whatever happens," he whispered against your palm, each word carefully chosen to ensnare you further. His lips brush your skin as he speaks, making the moment feel more intimate than it should. "Because you're the only person in my life who sees me. Really sees me."

The confession lands exactly as he intended – a perfect mix of vulnerability and need that makes it impossible to refuse him. Rafe knows what he's doing, dropping these words like anchors to keep you tethered to him, and the worst part is that it's working.

You hadn't known exactly what Rafe meant by that "Really sees me"--or any of the other drunken babble, but seeing as he was clearly heavily intoxicated, and needed your comfort, that didn't matter now. You whispered back words of comfort, of understanding, unaware that each soothing word was another step deeper into Rafe Cameron's carefully laid trap.

Meanwhile, Rafe Cameron smiled into your palm – a predatory curve of lips that you couldn't see from your angle, the kind of smile that should have warned you that comfort was the last thing he actually needed.

The bathroom's fluorescent light flickered once, casting strange shadows across his face. In that brief moment of darkness, his mask slipped, revealing something hungry and triumphant in his expression. But by the time the light steadied again, all you could see was the broken man you desperately wanted to fix.

After all, the best predators know exactly how to play wounded.

a/n: thanks for making it to the end of this chapter!! as always all likes comments, and reblog keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

Taglist -

@trapistani @alexxavicry @rafestoothbrush @ttrinity @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4rafey @Itristessedureratoujours @hittmeandtellmeyouremine @yoongling @lilithblackkk

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honeytonedhottie · 2 months ago

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taking control of ur wellness (tips and tricks to be ur healthiest most vibrant you)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✍🏽🌸

you must treat ur body like the temple that it is. love every inch of urself and out of love for urself, take good care of it. in this post we'll explore how to take control of ur wellness and overall take better care of urself from the inside out…💬🎀

THE MAINTENANCE ;

maintaining ur health by taking supplements is something that i do and its made a big difference in my health. because im taking my vitamins and supplements i feel a lot better and i dont get sick often at all.

♡ invest in a cute vitamin box to inspire u to take ur vitamins

i take a daily multivitamin in the morning and at night i take magnesium + D3 because its helped me fix my sleep schedule and just have better quality of sleep. plus its a better alternative to melatonin ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅✍🏽

DISCLAIMER : its crucial for u to do ur own research when it comes to ur health so make sure that u do that before applying anything that u learn on the internet for ur own safety!…💬🎀

♡ chia seed water every morning

make sure that ur not consuming more than 1-2 tbsp of chia seeds a day but i put 2 tablespoons of chia seeds in my water every morning cuz its an amazing source of fiber, and they're rich in omega-3 fatty acids and other vitamins and minerals.

♡ if im experiencing inflammation i'll take some warm water, turmeric and some lemon

♡ chlorophyll water (bonus points if u add a lemon wedge)

chlorophyll is an internal deodorizer! it helps to detoxify the body by binding to and eliminating toxins, heavy metals, and harmful substances. it also helps with skin concerns like acne 💕

♡ dry brushing

dry brushing is something else that i do that has an impact on my health. dry brushing unclogs pores in the exfoliation process. it also helps detoxify your skin by increasing blood circulation and promoting lymph flow/drainage. so not only am i exfoliating for softer more princessy skin, im also promoting my lymph flow and increasing my blood circulation.

THE IMPORTANCE OF HYDRATION ;

i know everyone always talks about how important it is to drink water and its lowkey overdone but its TRUE. water is so SO important. if u have difficulty drinking enough water invest in a cute water bottle with a straw. i say with a straw cuz i feel like personally, im more inclined to drink water if its out of a straw.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT ;

when ur eating, try focusing on how the food ur eating is making you feel. everyones body responds differently to different foods so by noticing how u feel after eating something, you can have a better idea of what u should continue eating and what u should steer clear of. with that being said, lets get into this section. ��️

something else that i wanted to yap about in this section is that there is a difference between restricting urself and self control. eating shouldn't be bringing u anxiety and ur allowed to let urself live. so eat to feel satiated and happy, dont eat to the point where you feel sick and like u can barely move.

something that has helped me be more conscious of what im choosing to fuel my body with is the 80-20 rule. choose the healthier option 80% of the time and the 20% of the time eat yummy pastries and cakes 💕

if ur someone who has difficulty eating vegetables, try cooking them in a different way and seasoning them adequately to make them yummy, masking them in different dishes. OR if that doesnt work for u get ur veggies in smoothies. cuz u gotta get in some fruits and vegetables.

im someone who loves to have a fun drink in the mornings and during the day so i've been super obsessed with making my own smoothies. my smoothie formula is super simple and it has never failed me.

(1-2 fruits + collagen powder/protein powder + almond milk + a bit of honey/maple syrup + ice)…💬🎀

some more wellness drinks and juicing recipes →

♡ apple + lemon + kale + honey + water

♡ grapefruit + lemon + kale + water

ALL ABOUT PROBIOTICS ;

probiotics are the good bacteria that live in your gut, working hard to keep your digestive system balanced and healthy. SO if you’re dealing with bloating, fatigue, or even skin issues, it might be time to show your gut some love.

♡ kimchi

♡ greek yogurt

♡ kefir

♡ pickles

♡ kombucha

MOVING YOUR BODY ;

moving ur body is also super duper important, not only for ur physical well being but also for ur mental wellbeing so make sure that ur getting physical activity every single day.

whether thats going to the gym, stretching, playing a sport, going on walks, dancing etc. there are literally SO many ways that u can move ur body and enjoy urself ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ some things that i like to do to stay active are →

♡ dancing ♡ stretching ♡ jump-roping (my favorite) ♡ walking

the trick to this is using the stair master machine OR if u dont have one in ur gym, u can just go on the treadmill at an incline for like 30 minutes or however long u can, and putting ur hands up to ur head and keeping ur posture straight. aim for at least a 5-10% incline, but you can go higher depending on your fitness level…💬🎀

or ofc u can go on walks with ur pet or ✨hot girl walks✨ and walk while listening to a podcast, literally whatever u prefer.

♡ pilates/workouts that i can follow along with on youtube

a fun way to keep track of the workouts that u consistently do is to make a workout book like i did. that way i can have everything at my fingertips right when i need it 💕🗒️

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windser · 1 month ago

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sylus wasn’t necessary not a morning person, sans the sunlight. there were days he pushed the threads of exhaustion a little too thinly, often drifting off on the couch when he just promised to relax. he acknowledged that your schedules weren’t meant to overlap. as much as you enjoyed the thrill of joining him on moonlight adventures, your primary calling had you up during the day to assist your hunter allies.

so even after a long night when he desperately needed more than the brief nap he settled on, if you were present, he would entertain a few moments of rest while the clock ticked down to your wakening. like clockwork, he would rises as if he’d been next to you throughout the night, just to soak in what he could of your presence before he saw you off for the day.

it was the best start end of his day, even for such a high-maintenance kitten as yourself.

it surprised even sylus the first time he tried to gently maneuver the sheets with his feet and slowly pry his arm from the grip you had obtained in your sleep. he would lose some of his resolve to rouse you somewhere between you sleepily nuzzling at the pillow where he once lay and the way you lazily stretched your arms above your head before settling back down and burrowing underneath the covers. he couldn’t help himself when his fingers scratched affectionately at the base of your neck while his voice softened as he reminded you of the time.

a few minutes later, he would be back in the bedroom, a mug of perfectly steeped tea would be in his hand, the steam brewing into his face as he set it on the bedside table next to you. he would lean over once more, lips pressed to your warm temple and fingers brushing against the top of your head, murmuring about how you had to get up.

sometimes sylus' fingers would wrap around your ankles, tickling but never pulling. he had teased it many times, hands pushed against your waist and fingertips purposeful at your sensitive skin. you would always curl onto your side and your fingers tucked the comforter tighter around your shoulders. you would grumpily mumble a few choice words, trying to free your feet from his grasp, but he would eventually let go. how could he, even in all his might make you get out of bed, especially not when you breathed in the scent of his pillow and whispered something about loving him.

"such a feisty kitten, even in your sleep," he mumbled, as his hands smoothed the fabric back over your body so you were properly warm. "claws in all.” every action of yours so sharp and deep as it dug into his consciousness.

you took in a breath and, enamoured, sylus watched as it seeped back into your lungs. “i just want to sleep a little longer, sy.”

sylus would falter. he always did, especially when you blinked up at him through thick eyelashes with a frown on your face. he would look towards the door while his fingers twitched, longing to reach for you again.

"okay. slide over, sweetheart." his mouth tried not to turn upwards when you rolled back to your side of the bed to leave room for him.

clinging to him, you tucked your head underneath his chin and slung one of your legs across his. your breathing deepened into an even pitch, the warmth spreading across sylus collarbone, and he watched in adoration and awe when you tilted your head to press a loving kiss to his jawline.

mornings always ended up like this.

#lnd sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lnd x reader #clearing out drafts #domestic sylus is the fruit of my labour #windworks

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angelicgirlmj · 5 months ago

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an angels guide: before your first day back to school ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

hi angels! so for many of us it’s approaching back to school season. for lots of people this can be a bit of an anxiety inducing time, whether you are starting a new school year or kind of education there is alot to plan and prepare and get ready for - it can feel extremely overwhelming! here is my guide for having an organised and effective first day back at school to get you on track and motivated! enjoy and as always feel free to comment your own tips or advice.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the week before ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

check through stationary and buy anything you need, check subject lists to see what is recommended as well. buy cute stationary in your favourite colours to motivate you!

sort through books, folders etc and organise notes, any loose pieces of paper and any important documents.

assign a folder to each subject, or if already have a folder check through and make sure it is organised and neat.

clear school emails etc, check through and organise into sections and respond to any. check for any information from your school regarding the upcoming year.

finish off any summer work and make sure it is all complete and ready to be handed in on the deadlines provided. check for any extra work if you have spare time, such as a book or article to read.

read up on the new syllabus/lesson plan for your subjects. familiarise yourself with how it looks, any new terms and any possible problem areas.

fix your sleep schedule! start going to bed earlier and waking up at the time you need to be up for school just to make it less of a shock to your system.

check your bag will fit everything and that any additionals such as a water bottle or lunch box are in good condition and to your tastes.

work on your morning/evening routines, plan when you will be doing work and make necessary changes.

figure out your fitness goals and routines - are they realistic for a full time student? time management is key.

if using apps such as notion, ensure it is set up for the new school year and neatly organised.

plan outfits, check through clothes in case in need of new underwear etc or wardrobe staples.

research healthy and nutritious lunch ideas (may make a post on this later!!), buy ingredients if needed.

do any ‘high maintenance’ things, get your nails done, lashes, eyebrows etc.

pack an emergency bag (pads/tampons, spare underwear, cash etc).

check any hygiene products and buy new ones/replace old ones if run out or in need of more!

do more self care, do a hair or face mask, do your own nails, watch your favourite films, have some you time before school starts again.

make a back to school playlist.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the night before ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

eat a healthy dinner.

do face mask (use one you have tried before in case a new one causes a bad reaction).

oil hair + hair mask.

dry brush before shower.

wash out oil + masks, shampoo twice.

apply conditioner and leave in.

exfoliate and clean body with soap before shaving.

wash out conditioner and apply bath gel.

finish shower, hair routine (mine is in-depth i have curly hair!), apply body oils.

blowdry, diffuse or air dry hair depending on type.

apply body lotion and perfume.

make tea and drink while doing some journaling (what is my plan for tomorrow, what do i want to achieve etc)

pack bag and organise clothes.

clean teeth, floss and mouthwash.

do gua sha routine and ice face.

do pm skincare routine.

do nail care routine and out hair up for bed.

watch comfort show or read comfort book.

set alarm.

have an early night!

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the day of ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

wake up nice and early.

do some yoga/stretching.

tidy room.

eat a healthy breakfast.

pack or plan lunch.

fill up water bottle.

check bag is fully packed.

check school timetable, make note of rooms etc.

have a quick shower if time (shave, body gel etc).

clean teeth and do am skincare.

get dressed.

journal and plan day.

put on back to school playlist!

head to school.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

thank you for reading angels! hope this was so helpful and have a wonderful back to school season. all my love, m.

#becoming that girl #clean girl #girlblogging #girlhood #glow up #it girl #it girl energy #just girly things #pink pilates princess #that girl

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m-ilkiee · 6 months ago

Text

Deadly Affairs: Bonten! Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano x Bonten Reader (+ Bonten)

Chapter 1: Genesis

˚₊�� ͟͟͞͞➞ [series summary]: you’ve seen this story multiple times, where the girl does everything to end up as the wife of the king. In any other timeline, you would have done the same. This time is different. You don’t want to marry the king. You want to be him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [chapter summary]: your destiny starts on your 23rd birthday, at the back of Manjiro Sano’s car, with the loss of your virginity

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [content warning]: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, DUBCON, bonten timeline, fem reader, power imbalance, age-gap relationship, sexual harrassment/abuse, sexism and misogyny, implied torture, flashing, alcohol/drug use, slight manipulation, drunk sex, public sex, fingering (f. recieving), virginity loss (reader), unprotected sex piv, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, slut shaming.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [r-18+] [not suitable for 17 and under]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [wc]: 4.5k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [masterlist] [chapter2] [taglist]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ [notes]: I will no longer be using the series colours on each chapter, since tumblr keeps glitching. Sorry guys :(

BONTEN, one of the most dangerous organizations that has ever arisen from Japan and possibly, the world. Led by men born from the era of brutality, Japan had never seen such a business successful with covering the tracks of organized crime as much as BONTEN has.

Despite the brutal murders, torture chambers, human and drug trafficking and even bodies found with teeth missing and finger prints skinned off, the police could never completely trace it back to BONTEN. They knew it would have something to do with such a deadly corporation, but as far as the higher ups and Japan's government were concerned, they were just business men with the usual ethical issues.

Anyone who tries to dig in too deep will face Bonten's hammer of judgment.

It's the life you've grown accustomed to for a while ever since Kokonoi had picked you up from the street.

Poverty made you sell your morals to the devil in the designers before you could regret it; Bonten sponsored your university course in accounting, trained you how to use a gun and taught you how important you were to them. Inappropriate touches and comments on your appearance by your fellow workmates and your superiors, you knew that no one would give you the time of the day to care about your accusations.

Besides, you've seen prostitutes that went missing after complaining so much about bonten members being rough with them.

"When is my flight for Makarti scheduled?"

You break out of your thoughts and raise your head to meet the dark eyes of the man sitting in front of you with his head down, Hajime Kokonoi, the man who took you out of the gutters to become his personal assistant who helped with calculations, estimates and other errands.

"It's supposed to be by twelve," you say, preparing yourself for his complaint as you explain the situation. "But your private jet needs a few maintenance checks before it's ready for your flight, so I had to shift it to two pm."

You waited for him to say anything to berate you for not doing the maintenance checks yesterday like he told you to, but instead he kept his head on the work he was doing and brushed it off, making you sigh in relief internally. "That's good, I have some meetings to attend to anyways, so I can avoid having extra work when I return. Also, you've gotten my suits from the dry cleaners?"

"Yes sir."

"And you've sent a message to Mochizuki and Kakucho about the change in flight times?"

"Yes sir."

The room falls silent, save for the noise coming from Kokonoi's fingers typing away on his laptop. You tap your feet lightly, waiting for either his next question or for him to dismiss you until he raises his head to look at you with confusion and annoyance written all over his features.

"Yes?" He stops typing to pay complete attention to you. "What are you still doing here?"

"Sorry sir."

You immediately stand up from the chair with your bag and scramble for the door in haste, adjusting your dress that had ridden up to your thigh. The last thing you wanted was for him to scold you again with disapproving eyes glaring down on you.

Hajime Kokonoi was very hard to please and easy to anger, you could never tell when his switch would flip and you don't like being around whenever it did.

You don't see the way Kokonoi's eyes rest on the curve of your ass strained against the office skirt you had worn today, before looking down your legs as you struggled to open his large office doors

"Wait."

You stop halfway, leaving the door half-open as you turn to the man sitting some feet away from you. Kokonoi rests his angular jaw on his intertwined fingers before clearing his throat. "I just remembered that you would be joining Mikey and Sanzu for a meeting tonight."

You feel the blood in your veins turn cold as you process Kokonoi's words, your fingers curl around the door handle tighter than before, anchoring you to the ground and keeping you from stumbling at the news. Kokonoi doesn't miss the way your face turns sour at the news he had broken, and frankly, he can't exactly blame you for your reaction. The top two executives are frightening, even more brutal than he himself was, especially when it came to you.

"I'm giving you the rest of the day off to prepare." He goes back to his laptop screen and keeps working on the audit he was doing before. The world of the yakuza cares for no man, and if you despise someone, either you kill them or you stick to them like glue. "Someone will come get you by 7pm so be ready by then. You can go now."

The room goes quiet again. Kokonoi can feel your questioning glare asking him why he would break his promise of not letting those men come near you, again.

"Yes sir."

You stomp out of the room angrily and the door slams shut after you, leaving Kokonoi all by himself to keep doing his work. He had to admit, the head on top of your shoulders wasn't just for decoration, you actually do know how to use it.

You knew better than to ask him questions.

────────────୨ৎ───────────

THE noise from the club was deafening the moment you stepped into the place.

Once upon a time, Ran had told you he and his brother used to rule this place with an iron fist, before finding a much smarter way to make everyone submit to them. Now, practically all the clubs littered around Japan, including this one Manjiro Sano had decided to be the venue of the meeting, belong to them in Bonten's name.

Dressed in a sequined two piece cream top and skirt paired with heels, you certainly turned heads with your looks. You could hear whispers of men and women asking about who you were, seeing as you walked up to the V.I.P area with an air of confidence, somewhere only known Bonten members, business partners of Bonten or unlucky women foolish enough to entertain any executive were allowed to enter.

As expected, the guards in charge stopped you in your tracks. You could practically feel the predatory gazes of the men aimed at your choice of clothes, oozing lust, before flickering into disapproval at how you were dressed.

"V.I.Ps only."

His tone was condescending for someone that just stared at you like a piece of meat, although it was nothing new to you when it came to the men in Bonten. You don't pay mind to his attitude, instead lifting up your skirt partially to reveal the Bonten tattoo on your inner thigh. You could see his eyes practically entranced by the flesh of your thighs and the panties peeking through the skirt, greedily absorbing the details of every inch of skin as you lowered your skirt down.

You blame Kokonoi for letting you go through with that idea. Flashing people to reveal your tattoo isn't exactly ideal for you.

"Can I go in now?" You say and without waiting for them to finish, you push past them and got into the entrance to the V.I.P lounge.

IF you had a nickel for everytime Kokonoi lied to you about something, you would be extremely wealthy by now.

You could see the collection of wine bottles distributed across the tables, each to every individual's taste. Smoke billowed around the area, mixing with the scent of weed and alcohol. Voluptuous women were strewn on their laps, sides and even at their feet, smiling and pouring drinks, talking loudly or laughing at something they said.

This is not a meeting. This was a private party and you want nothing to do with it.

Haruchiyo, Bonten's number 2, is the first person to notice you awkwardly standing there and staring at the rest of them in horror and shock. His lips break out in a smile aimed at you, calling your name loudly and garnering everybody's attention, including Manjiro Sano who looked tired and bored, despite the woman who was sitting on his lap and feeding him. "The birthday girl is here, come sit down."

'Birthday girl? Does this look like a party I would like to attend?'

You mindlessly walked towards the space Haruchiyo had made between him and Manjiro, and sat there stiffly. You notice Haruchiyo hasn't touched his drinks at all, as if he was waiting for you to see this madness while he was sober. Electricity runs down your spine as he leaned so close to your ears, lips brushing it lightly to whisper;

"So, do you like it? Boss said I could plan it however I wanted since Kokonoi wasn't around."

'You shouldn't have.' The voice in your head is dry, sarcastic even, but you know better than to trigger him on his good days. Even if the urge to slap him across the face is creeping along the surface, you decided to keep things to yourself.

You glance briefly at Manjiro who was following (or trying to) a conversation the chatty escort he had hired had started. Your gazes meet briefly and you shyly avert your eyes away back to your lap.

Of course it was him that gave Haruchiyo the reins to host this party. Who else could do something like this?

You sigh weakly and turn to Haruchiyo, who was still waiting for your answer with a huge expectant grin on his lips. It wasn't like you could tell him the truth about how this party felt like it was for the men of Bonten and not for you.

"It's um…" you forced a smile at him before you continued lying. "... nice. Thank you sir."

A sigh of relief escapes your lips when his grin widens. You feel his arm drape over your shoulders, drawing you closer to his body. He dips his head into the crook of your neck, hot breath dancing along your body as he whispers in your ear again.

"Anything for you princess."

You sit frozen when he pulls away from you and goes back to the escort he was chatting with as if he didn't just make your heart race. You didn't get to think about it for long when a wine glass is put right in front of your face. Manjiro does not look at you as he shakes the wine glass in your face and you take it from him, trying to ignore the electricity running through your fingertips that brushed his.

"Thank you sir."

"Try to relax." His voice is low enough for only you to hear him speak. Your body grows hotter when he turns his gaze completely on your body, slowly scanning your attire for the evening before focusing on your face again. "We're not punishing you this time."

You nod quickly, making a huge effort to keep the glass in your shaking hands. Being so close to Manjiro Sano and Haruchiyo Sanzu proved to be more difficult than it should have been. Was it the fear that had been instilled into you by these men themselves?

Or was it the fact that you were surrounded by the constant reminders of your twisted sexual fantasies?

"A toast, to the birthday girl!" Ran's loud voice brings you out of your thoughts and you absentmindedly raise your glass up into the air. Whatever it is you feel about them doesn't matter, you couldn't afford to get anymore involved with Bonten beyond office contact.

"To life and a fatter ass!"

You don't notice Manjiro watching your facial expression morph into a scowl before hiding it with a fake laugh and repeating. "To life and a fatter ass."

────────────୨ৎ───────────

"YOU didn't like the party.

You don't say anything in response, with the light hum of the car's engine serving as the only sound in the vehicle and opting to look out of the window instead, watching the cars drive past yours. Of course you absolutely hated everything tonight; hell even your sour facial expression couldn’t be hidden by your usual fake laughter and flirty words. Manjiro Sano had noticed and offered to take you home early when you said you were tired.

You don’t feel bad for cutting his time short despite him having little time to be frivolous. It’s his fault anyways for setting up a disaster like this in the first place without even being considerate enough to assume you wouldn’t want it and you don’t owe him any gratitude for a job terribly done.

He sighs after a while, now looking out of his own window to distract himself from the way your skirt rode up to reveal the flesh of your thighs. "I'm sure Sanzu tried his best given how he ... is."

Something in you snaps at that moment and you face him with annoyance in your eyes. You were just about done with the way he kept digging the knife deeper into your gut. "I had plans for the evening Mr. Sano." You put it bluntly, not caring if he took offense to your words or just ignored you completely. "I did not ask for anything. I'm beginning to think you do this to make me miserable."

Your frown only deepens when you hear him chuckle quietly before turning around to face you with a curious look written all over his face. Somehow, seeing you upset made you cuter in his eyes; You always looked so vulnerable in times like these, whether you're walking on eggshells around him or outright being ungrateful to him. Maybe it's the alcohol giving you an extra boost to speak your mind, and he'll allow it for now because he wants to hear what you have to say.

But it won't go unpunished.

"What were the plans you had for this evening?"

Manjiro doesn't miss the way your face contorts slightly into an uncomfortable smile. It's not like he didn't know anyways, he had overheard your discussion with Ran’s assistant about what you wanted to do about two weeks ago and it was what made him call Haruchiyo to plan the most disastrous party ever to stop you from going ahead with your plan.

"It's nothing, never min-"

"I know you wanted to hook up with some idiot you met on a dating app, don't play coy with me."

You swallowed hard at his harsh tone, flickering your eyes anywhere but his face. The ridiculous last minute party made sense now that he had ripped the band aid off. Manjiro must have heard of your plans to hook up with someone you had met, since Kokonoi never let you even breathe in peace or left you alone whenever you wanted to do something.

"Today was my only chance and you ruined it." Your voice cracks slightly as you hiss at him. It was frustrating honestly, the one time you had to yourself without Bonten breathing down your neck, they found a way to make you even more miserable. "I have needs too for god's sake! I have a life outside being your lackey-"

"So you were going to let some lowlife stick his dick into you because you can't keep your legs shut."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

You try to reply to him again but no words come to your head. You can only close your mouth and look at your lap; it's unbelievable that he was berating you for wanting some form of intimacy in your life after being so pent up and going through so much shit. "So what do you expect me to do Mr. Sano?" Your voice is bitter but you didn't care any more at this point. "Ask Kokonoi to fuck me? Or should I go to Ran or Haruchiyo? Or…"

A smile makes its way to your face the moment an idea pops into your mind. You raised your head sharply towards him and jabbed a finger into his chest to buttress your point.

"Or should I ask you to do it? To corrupt and taint me?"

"Stop that."

"Do you want to fuck me, Mr. Sano? Is that why you hate seeing me with those low-lives? Is that it?"

"Don't start something you know you can't finish, (name)" it's a stern warning and you know Manjiro Sano isn't just being petty as usual. He was actually getting riled up from your constant taunting, which only served as entertainment with you because when was the last time you saw Mikey ever react to anything? "Or else."

But you don't listen to him. Even though you know from past experience that angering your volatile boss could end up with a bullet embedded in your brain, you push yourself closer to his body until you were flush against him, watching him stiffen as you lowered your lips next to his ear and rested your hand on his muscular thigh. It's obvious you're not thinking straight since you've had a couple of drinks and he's trying to keep that in mind, especially when you begin to trace a line towards his crotch area.

"Or else what, Mr. Sano?"

It happened so fast you could barely comprehend how he had you on your back to the seat with his body hovering over yours. Bleach blond bangs frame his face, highlighting the once empty, soulless eyes into darkened gazes full of lust and greed, hot breath hitting your face. A strong pale veiny hand pins your arms above your head, his knees separating your thighs, your jaw in a bruising grip of his other hand.

"S-sir-"

"A bit too late for that." He cuts you short, before turning his head to the driver of the vehicle. "Stop the car, now."

Your heart thuds loudly against your chest as the driver pulls the car into a dark corner hidden from the streetlights, coming to a stop. Manjiro does not ease up his grip, nor does he stop gazing into your soul as he tells the driver to "get out" in less than polite terms. You can hear the door of the car open and close quietly, along with the faint flicker of a lighter as the man walks away from the car.

With the two of you alone, Manjiro doesn't hesitate to crash your lips against each other in a messy kiss. Your boss wins the battle of dominance almost immediately with the sheer force he uses to force your mouth open with his hand so that he could explore your mouth. Your moans are silenced with each bruising kiss from him, his teeth grazing your lips before his tongue swipes over the marked place, engulfing your mouth with his until your lungs burn for air.

Moans of "sir" escaped your lips in sync with every wet kiss he placed on your face and cheek. Manjiro moves his lips from your lips, to your jaw and then settles onto your neck. The feeling of his teeth grazing your neck has you mewling and leaning into his touch. His hand leaves your jaw and quickly makes its way to your skirt, hiking it up a bit to reveal your panties and the Bonten tattoo on the plush of your inner thigh.

Manjiro pulls away from your neck and you let out an annoyed whine, already craving for his mouth on your neck again. His eyes sizes up the lace panties you had worn, a wet patch forming on it and he begins to trace a finger up and down your slit, teasing you through your panties. You let out a soft "hngh" from your lips as he moves to your clothed clit, rubbing tight circles, sending waves of electricity all over your lower region.

"Don't think I'm going easy on you." He mutters whilst pushing your soaked panties aside to reveal your bare cunt. A soft whine escapes your lips as two of his fingers start entering into your tight pussy, forcing its way into your walls until you accommodate the intrusion. "As soon as I'm done stretching out this cunt, I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

You don't get to reply as his fingers begin to move at a pace that has your body trembling.

His fingers curled into you, pumping them in and out of your pussy. A loud moan escapes your lips when his fingers brush that spot, making your eyes roll back and pussy pulse around his fingers. "You like that?" He whispers close to your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin, not letting up his rough finger fucking, curling his fingers even the more that has your legs shaking and the coil in your belly tightening. "Of course you do. You like it so much, look at how you're clenching on my fingers like a needy slut." His tone is mocking and yet, it only seemed to add fire to the flame.

Your body spasms in his hold, breathing fast as a violent orgasm rips through you until it becomes a dull throbbing and your head hangs while trying to catch your breath. Manjiro pulls away from your cunt and kneels upright. You peek through your lashes, watching him impatiently unbuckle his belt with one hand and toss it aside on the floor, followed by him working down the zipper and buttons of his pants, tugging it to his knees along with his boxers to reveal his thick, veiny cock springs free of its confines, drops of pre leaking from it.

He takes his dick in his free hand and smears the tip with pre before lining it up with your hole. A quiet groan escapes your lips as he rubs his length against your glistening pussy gathering all the slick, your heavy breathing matching his own. His grip on your hands above your head tightens, keeping you in place as he positions his tip in front of your entrance.

The pain when he pushes his tip into you is almost unbearable.

Your eyes snapped shut in response and you bit your lip to keep yourself from screaming as he slowly inched into you. "It'll be much easier for the both of us if you relax." He hisses at you, before reaching for your clit and circling it gently, trying to distract you from the pain. "Breathe."

His words were like a mantra and you found yourself taking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying your hardest to relax. Slowly, the pain from being stretched out gave way to feeling so full for the first time until he was buried at the hilt. A groan escapes Manjiro's lips; the feeling of your velvety walls around his hard cock was divine and if he didn't have any ounce of self control he would have cum immediately. His hips experimental rolls against yours and the loud "Manjiro" you let out had his brain short circuiting.

Everything is a blur after that.

His pace is fast, angling himself to your g-spot and abusing it, the whole car shaking with the power of his thrusts. His finger plays with your clit, despite you screaming "too much sir, too much!" in between moans and trying to squirm away from his brutal ministrations.

"Don't run away now, (name), I'm just doing what you want. Look at how well you're doing for a virgin." He says in between pants, thrusting into you even faster. He doesn't miss the whimper escaping your lips as his tip abuses your g-spot repeatedly- in fact it only encourages him to keep up the pace. "You're so obedient, I like this version of you. Might make you my personal slut- shit-"

His balls tighten at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him at that sentence. Seeing him staring down at you condescendingly as he fucks into you hard is shamefully arousing, and your mouth can't help letting out loud moans of pleasure when his fat tip prods against your cunt.

The noises of skin slapping skin from the intensity of his thrusts in the car is obscene and noisy, you're sure the guard standing outside is well aware of what is going on.

He lets go of your clit briefly to put your leg on his bony shoulder, bringing you even closer to him and presses a hot, messy kiss on your lips, his tongue playing with yours again. You answer his kiss with another weak moan, the coil in your belly tighten once again with the urge to snap.

"You look so fucked out, it's pathetic" he laughs against your lips and moves his head to the crook of your neck. His grip tightens on your hand as he holds your trembling body in place. "I would have mistakened you for a slut if you weren't so fucking tight." His hips stutter, before regaining his pace again. He spits out darkly; "Since you're so cock hungry, maybe you should be our personal slut, huh? Bonten's cumrag?"

Maybe it's the alcohol coupled with the intense feeling of pleasure that has your mind completely dumb for him. Maybe it's because he's the one in control of everything as he rolls his hips into you, bringing you closer and closer to edge, his dark eyes clouded with lust and greed peering into yours that had you saying "yes, yes yes yes-" until your second orgasm washes over you, more intensely than the first and knocks you out completely soon after.

He falls over the edge too, pumping loads and loads of cum into you as he bucks into you with a few more thrusts, more than anything he's produced before until he's spent completely. He pulls himself away from your cunt immediately and sits on his heels, dark eyes watching cum leak out of your abused hole and pool down your cunt with interest. Manjiro's eyes flicker up to your face and realized you have passed out.

'It must have been too intense for you, huh.'

He releases your hands above your head, taking note of the fingerprint bruises on his hand and reaches for your bag to take out your wipes. He cleans the cum and specks of blood outside your cunt and tries to dab off the stain on the chair as well before tugging your skirt down and adjusting his pants. Wounding down the window of the car, Manjiro signs the driver outside to come in and he obeys immediately, putting out his cigarette on the concrete wall.

A sigh escapes his lips, in sync with the car engine revving up again. Manjiro's eyes flicker down to your sleeping figure that he's maneuvered to his lap and trails his gaze down to the marks littered all over your jaw and neck. Deft fingers circle around the swelling skin, still lost in thought about how pretty you look with his markings.

Something in him is selfish when it comes to you. He’s never been outright with his affections, but there’s just something about you that makes him want to have you in his cage, trapped with him. Perhaps it’s why he let Koko take you in all those years ago and why you haven’t died yet despite your misdeeds. Maybe it’s because he sees himself in you; the pain and the loss, the madness that you’ve buried deep down in your heart.

But for now, he’ll settle with whatever you both have. As long as you stayed with him. And as long as you stayed loyal to Bonten.

"Take us to my house."

Forever. Even in death.

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special thanks to: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @cockonoi @rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @genawi @getonite @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @tenjikusstuff4 @hapikiou @Lovelyartistz @lik0

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➞ layla 2024, do not repost, translate or plagarize my post on this platform or any other platform. before you follow or apply to my taglist, read my info caard first.

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dreamofjoys · 9 months ago

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Cyborg Boothill sex headcannons

CW: fem reader, possessive boothill(hinted to be), unprotected sex, rough fucking, manhandling

A/N: Typed all of these without my glasses and I’m already snuggling in my blankets lol pardon the typos!! I nearly wrote him off as a yandere psycho who is obsessed with reader’s body omg 😭

Cyborg!Boothill who just loves you, his pretty little human doll. Although it’s suppose to be an impossible feat for a robot like him to develop emotional attachments towards someone, he had somehow managed to “love” you. How does he come to know of this emotion called love? It’s easy! If you want something / someone only to yourself….. that’s definitely love, right?

Sex with him is so so good. Since he is a cyborg, you thought that his manhood would be made of metal. But nope, it’s fully made of a soft material that looks and feel just like the real one! Boothill is determined to make you get drunk on his dick only. As a cyborg, he has unlimited strength and stamina. He loves to fold you into half and watch your pretty pussy display itself infront of him. He fucks his 7 inch manhood into you relentlessly, wanting to see how deep he can exactly go. How does he know his dick is 7 inch? He’s a cyborg that needs to attend regular maintenance, Of course he knows the exact measurement of his own body.

And did you realise? Each time you guys have sex, he just seems to feel bigger and thicker than before. It’s almost as if he changed the size of his manhood whenever he goes for his scheduled maintenance…… His arms also seems more muscular than before, and the 6 pack of abs that is displaying before you makes you wanna volunteer lick him all up.

“Do ya feel good here?” Boothill thrust up his hips, his newly replaced dick hits your g-spot with dead accuracy, making you see white in an instant. “I guess that’s a yes,” the man smirks when he sees your fucked-out mind, too sluggish and incoherent to say anything proper. All you could do is moan like a slut and beg your lover for more as he abuses your insides to his liking.

“Hm…… you take me in so well……. You can definitely take in a bigger size…….” It’s too bad that you weren’t coherent enough to process what he was saying. Otherwise, you would have seen his devilish face coming up with all sorts of ideas to make you go crazy during sex again.

#honkai star rail smut #boothill #Honkai star rail Boothill #boothill smut #honkai star rail x reader #smut #tw smut #Honkai star rail #fem reader

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neptuneiris · 18 days ago

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Cruel Summer (07/10)

Hidden Coast

pairing: modern!aemond x fem!reader

summary: feelings continue to flourish stronger than ever and now that you have already experienced life at Crowns, it is now the turn of a certain rich guy to experience life at Black Waves.

words: 9.5k

previous part • series masterlist

okay, let's see how things continue with this story after my long disappearance (sorry, I was very busy with work and my schedule changes) i hope to get support, not just hearts as you need to comment and reblog, please.

i have seen how the activity has dropped in the HOTD world and i don't want to not have more motivation for this story when there are people who want the ending. I have a lot planned and any constructive feedback is more than welcome. thank you guys, enjoy!

"Are you ready?"

You look excitedly at Aemond in front of you, with a small smile on your lips.

"More than ready."

The jet ski's engine purrs softly with Aemond already sitting on top of it, waiting for you, ready to take you for a ride.

It's your first time on one of these bikes and you're clearly excited. Obviously a ride on one of these is afforded by the rich, either because they can afford it or because they have jet skis of their own.

You didn't even see it when Aemond first showed you the yacht. It was off to the side at the yacht, also being maintained and cared for by the people in the harbor that his family pays for maintenance and protection.

And when he let you know that his family also has one of these and showed it to you, you quickly as a little girl and completely thrilled told him that you had always wanted to ride in one of these.

And that's why now you're both here.

You make sure your vest is on properly and take his hand, where he helps you keep your balance as you stand behind him, taking a seat, then wrap your arms around his torso tightly.

"Hold on tight," he tells you, placing his hands on top of yours and watching you over his shoulder, "I won't go very fast but still."

He gives you a few more instructions but the truth is you can't concentrate one hundred percent. Not when he looks like this.

His tousled silver hair, his bare arms, the sunglasses he's wearing and his hands gripping the throttle lever, marking his bones and veins. A truly breathtaking sight, especially when you're holding him so tightly.

Then he again looks at you expectantly over his shoulder and you nod.

"Okay."

He makes sure one last time that you're holding on to him tightly and finally accelerates, both of you gliding out into the open water with the salty ocean air filling your lungs.

You feel the sea breeze begin to hit your face, lifting your hair. There's a lot of motion from the bike cutting through the waves with ease and water splashing in all directions.

Then he accelerates a little faster and you cling to him completely.

You stare in wonder at the horizon, where the ocean is endless and where the sun makes the water sparkle with little silvery glints as you and Aemond get further and further away from the shore by the second.

You leave the hustle and bustle of the beach and the town behind, until only the sea and the immense sky in front of you both remain.

The wind hits hard against your face, as does the breeze every second and you feel the adrenaline take over your whole body, smiling and happy to finally be experiencing this.

"Faster!"

Aemond looks over his shoulder at you and doesn't hesitate to oblige your request. He speeds up even more, and the jet ski glides over the waves with even greater speed, drawing a free and carefree laugh from you.

The force of the wind means you can barely keep your eyes open, but you don't want to miss a second of this view.

You feel your heartbeat accelerate, and the excitement fills you with a seemingly endless energy. Each leap over the waves is like a small flight and you feel like you could fly.

You cling to Aemond's waist tighter, enjoying the moment, here, with him, it couldn't be more perfect.

After a while, Aemond slows down and you look out into the short distance at a place you have seen from many summers ago. Since you were a little girl coming here with your mom, specifically.

You still remember how you excitedly told her that one day you would want to come here. So does Alysanne.

You gaze raptly at the large lighthouse that towers in the middle of the sea, not far off the coast of Sunset's. Aemond circles around it at a slower speed, allowing you to admire it, watching as some eagles fly at the top where the lighthouse ends its height, being a truly beautiful sight.

"Do you want to come up!?"

He asks you over the sound of the engine and the waters crashing against each other with every displacement of the bike. And you watch him in surprise, also excited.

"Sure!"

Aemond speeds toward the pier, where the waves rock gently against the worn pillars and where the place seems anchored in time, as if no change of season or year could alter its stillness.

When the jet ski comes to a stop, Aemond jumps off first, making sure it is securely fastened, and then reaches out to help you. His grip is firm but gentle and comforting, helping to steady you.

Afterwards, you walk together toward the base of the lighthouse, where it stands imposingly in front of you, its white structure contrasting with the evening sky. The paint, though somewhat faded, still reflects the light of the sun's last rays.

“Can we come in?”

“We can,” he nods.

“But is anyone inside?”

“There should be. But it's still early,” he says nonchalantly, ”We'll be gone before they show up.”

The old but sturdy steel door opens with a loud creak as Aemond pushes it open. And you step cautiously in behind him, watching as the light illuminates the interior a little more and with the foot of the stairs just to one side of the large door.

“Watch the steps, they're kind of narrow,” he tells you as he holds the door open for you.

You frown slightly, placing yourself in front of him.

“You've come here before?”

He nods.

“With Daeron, last year.”

You both step further in, and Aemond closes the door behind him.

The interior is cool and quiet. Everything looks too old, too, but still captivating. The little light coming in through small round windows casts irregular patterns on the wall, creating an almost magical feeling.

The two begin to climb the spiraling staircase and Aemond is right, the steps are worn and creak under the weight. Ocean breezes occasionally filter through the windows, and you can smell the salt in the air mixed with the scent of old wood.

“When I was a kid, I used to imagine what it would be like to come up here,” you say as you walk forward, “I've always seen this lighthouse in the distance and…I don't know, I thought it was amazing to come. Dad always told me, in his crazy stories, that you could see the whole world at the top of the lighthouse,” you explain with a small nostalgic smile, ”Although Alysanne always told me it must be no big deal.”

“And why didn't you ever come?” he asks you in a soft voice.

“We didn't have enough money to rent a jet ski,” you admit, ”Mom always said this was for tourists or people with money, which she was right. But… money was needed for other things, not for this.”

He doesn't say anything to you right away, but when you reach the bottom of the stairs, he stops beside you and says in a soft voice, “I'm glad you're doing it now.”

You smile at him, and there's something warm in the way he looks at you, as if he understands what this moment means to you. Finally, you both reach the top.

He steps forward and carefully opens the rusty door leading outside. The metallic creak mingles with the roar of the wind rushing in, bringing with it the salty scent of the ocean.

Excited, you walk through the door and step outside, where the lighthouse culminates in a small circular platform surrounded by a metal railing. And from here, the view takes your breath away.

The horizon stretches as far as the eye can see, the sun slowly sinks into the sea, painting everything with a palette of oranges, pinks and purples. The waves reflect the colors as if they were a liquid canvas, and the sound of the sea below seems amplified, like a constant whisper that envelops everything.

And even though you can't see the whole world, as your dad used to tell you, it's still beautiful.

“It's more beautiful than I imagined,” you murmur, barely able to look away from the landscape.

You feel Aemond approach, his presence solid and comforting behind you. Wordlessly, he wraps his arms around your waist, gently resting his chin on your shoulder.

His embrace is firm but tender, and in that instant, you feel protected, as if this moment was designed just for the two of you. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the wind caress your face and thinking about your dad.

You wonder what it would have been like to be here with him, how he would have told another one of his fantastic stories as the sun illuminated his face.

A lump forms in your throat, and you hold back the urge to cry, because you know that, somehow, he would be happy that you are doing it now.

You turn to Aemond, placing your hands gently on his face. His eye, a deep blue and gray, looks at you with curiosity and something else you can't quite identify, but which fills your chest with warmth.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with emotion and tenderness.

He smiles, a small but genuine smile, and rests his forehead against yours, letting the moment envelop you both.

You both return to the harbor and Aemond again secures the jet ski next to the yacht, while you wait for him, taking off your life vest.

"Hey, can I borrow your phone?" you ask him, unsure.

He looks at you slightly confused.

"My phone?"

"Yeah, it's just... mine doesn't turn on," you explain briefly and he watches you intently, "It died on the way over here and I want to let Alysanne know I'm staying with you tonight."

"Sure," he tells you with no problem.

He finally manages to secure the jet ski and walks over to you. He places a hand on your shoulder and you both start heading towards the yacht.

"But what's wrong with your phone?" he asks you curious and attentive.

"Well, it's old and the battery is failing," you say a little embarrassed, "It takes about three hours to charge to at least fifty percent."

You both go up to the second floor deck and he slides the doors for you, both of you stepping inside the yacht.

"You need a new one."

He tells you as he walks over to the small kitchen island, picking up his phone and you sigh.

"Yeah, I know. I'll buy one when I get a new job or have it fixed. That's what I always do when it starts to malfunction."

"No need. I'll buy it for you."

"What?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, holding out his phone to you, "I need you to have your phone with you at all times so I can contact you. And obviously I can't do that if it's no working."

"But... no," you look at him completely incredulous and surprised, "No. You can't just buy me a new phone and that's it. You can't do—

"Of course I can, Y/N," he interrupts you completely unconcerned.

"But n-no... it's... it's not..." you babble, "I mean, you can't."

He places a small grin as he rolls his eye and watches you with a condescending look, leaning against the kitchen island in a casual motion.

"And why not, according to you?"

"Because it costs a lot of money!"

"Yeah... and your point?"

"My point..." you remark, still incredulous, "Is that it's a lot of money to buy a new one."

He frowns slightly, still with that little grin on his lips.

"And that's why I can't?"

"Well, I-I... you... I mean—

"Stop doing that," he interrupts you in a soft voice as he sits up and walks over to you, "It's nothing. I can buy you a new one."

He stops in front of you and places a hand on the back of your head and then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I know it's a lot for you. But I can afford it."

"But... you don't understand," you look at him uncertainly, "I can't afford it. And suddenly having one of these," you point to his phone in your hand, "will draw attention. Besides, I don't want it to look like I'm taking advantage of you."

"Oh, believe me, you can take advantage of me all you want, darling. And I wouldn't mind."

He tells you still with that fucking grin on his lips then leans in and kisses you deeply.

His hands rest on your waist and you bring your free hand to the back of his head, moving your lips against his and gently stroking his hair. Then you both pull apart and he rests his forehead against yours.

"I'm serious," you murmur.

"And so do I," he tells you in a more serious tone of voice, "Don't worry about any of that. You're not taking advantage of me. I want to. Besides, you'd better get used to it."

You gently shake your head.

"You're joking."

"Hm. Are you sure about that?"

He again closes the distance between you and kisses you with more need, though with the same depth as before. You gasp into his mouth and reciprocate his kiss, clinging tighter to him.

His fingers firmly squeeze the skin of your waist and send electric waves throughout your body, as you let yourself be completely enveloped by him.

"I'm dead serious with you."

He says in a husky voice against your lips and you begin to feel the level between the two of you begin to rise, becoming more desperate and needy.

"No, you're not."

"You think so, baby?"

He cooed and before you can say anything else, he interrupts you by attacking your lips again and lifting you off your hips, causing you to wrap your legs around his torso.

You let out a surprised little laugh as he settles you better in his arms and heads for the stairs. Or towards the bedroom, specifically.

You watch Alysanne with a huge smile and a dreamy look on your face as you finish telling her all about your day yesterday and how much fun you had with Aemond.

“And how was your night?” she inquires you with that mischievous look.

Instantly your cheeks burn and you look at her with embarrassment mixed with reproach.

“I don't intend to tell you anything about it.”

But she can already get the idea just by looking at your reaction.

“Lucky bitch.”

You let out a small laugh, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“You could have these experiences too, you know?”

“Which ones, specifically?”

You look at her with an obvious look.

“You know, the yacht, the jet skis, and life at Crown's.”

She rolls her eyes, letting out a sigh.

“You mean because of Cregan?”

“Who else?” you inquire, ”Why hasn't anything happened between the two of you? It's weird.”

“Cause it would be weird.”

“Weird?” you look at her blankly.

“A guy from Crown's with a girl from Black Waves.”

“Oh, come on,” you look at her incredulously, ”Are you not seeing my situation? Besides…” you say, remembering, ”didn't you tell me that if you were in my place with Aemond, you'd agree to be with him?”

“Well, yes but… Cregan hasn't really acted or said anything to me,” she justifies herself, “Yes, I've seen his looks, his actions and his behaviors but,” she sighs, “I don't know. He hasn't really come on to me.”

“Come on, you and Cregan together is easier and less complicated than Aemond and I,” you say, ”Cregan has no girlfriend and no responsibilities. He doesn't have to please his father and he has a lot of freedom.”

She is silent for a few seconds, thoughtfully, staring at a spot in the room.

“Yeah, I know.“

She lets out a sigh again and neither of you say anything else for a few long seconds. Until she speaks again.

“By the way…” she, thoughtfully, “Since you talked about his dad and his girlfriend, how exactly are you and Aemond doing so you don't get caught?”

“Well…” you murmur, “ His dad he doesn't see much of him in the day. Only Aemond knows the days when he's going to need him and is there for him. With his siblings and mom it's easier. He only says he wants to be alone and leaves home to meet me on the pier or in the harbor.”

“And Floris?”

“He tells her that he's busy getting ready to take his management course before he goes off to college,” you explain, “And it's not totally untrue. When he's with me, I've seen him looking up program recommendations and reviews online.”

“Hm, very clever,” she says as she nods then lies back on the bed completely, “I don't know about you but I find your whole situation… exciting,” she says as she looks at you with a small smile.

“Exciting how?”

“I mean, like exciting and scary at the same time,” she explains, “And also like a movie-like, of forbidden love. The rich guy and the poor girl who can't be together because they'll be judged before society, you know?”

You raise your eyebrows slightly at the comment, amused.

“Well, it's not totally far from reality.”

“Like the prince and the commoner, the millionaire and the maid, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, Noah and Ally, Romeo and Juliet—

“Romeo and Juliet?” you interrupt her, amused and incredulous, ”I hope neither or both of us have to die so we can be together in heaven.”

“Well, you know, two completely opposite worlds doomed to be apart…though without the tragic ending, please,” she says as she laughs, sitting up a bit from the bed and propping herself up on her elbows, ”But, you know, it would also be like Jack and Rose. Although you'd be Jack and Aemond would be Rose.”

You frown, watching her.

“You, poor and free,” she points at you with her index finger, “Him, rich and trapped in world he hates with a dad who hates too.”

“I hope our story doesn't end up sinking like a giant ship in the middle of the ocean,” you mutter.

“Okay, so another example… like, um… Aladdin,” she snaps her fingers, “But it would also be the other way around, you, a thief of the streets, him, a prince with the full weight of his kingdom's expectations. Although…“ she pauses and looks at you mischievously, "Aemond doesn't have a magic carpet, does he?”

You laugh and shake your head.

“No, but he does have a jet ski.”

“And a late model car, a yacht, a mansion..” she lists, “Businesses, infinite credit cards—

“Yes, but that's not why I'm with him,” you interrupt her, indignant.

“I know but you get my point, right? The whole forbidden love thing, with restrictions, secret meetings, no freedom and where everything can end well… or bad,” she tells you with a look and a condescending tone, ”Obviously you both want to be together. But if you get caught, there will be a scandal all over town and who knows how his family will react. And Floris too.”

You look at her again confused.

“We had already had this conversation and you were the one who told me to take the risk?”

“Yes but that's not what I'm talking about.”

“Then?”

She sighs and looks at you with a more serious look.

“You and Aemond must have a plan if that happens.”

“A plan?” you repeat.

“Yeah. Have you two talked about what you'll do if you get caught?"

“Yeah… well, sort of, when he went looking for me with Cregan,” you explain, "The plan…” you start to say, trying to sound more confident than you feel, “is that he'll protect me.”

“Protect you?” she repeats, confused, ”How?”

“Well, we didn't exactly say those words but, basically, he won't let his or Floris' family near me. I just have to stay on my side of town and… I'll be fine.”

She folds her arms, expectantly.

“And then?”

You sigh.

“We won't be able to talk or… see each other, obviously.”

“But he's going to fight his family and his dad, right? To do what he wants and to be with you… right?”

“That's the plan,” you nod, '“If all goes well, that would be a miracle but if it doesn't…” you watch her fearfully, “We'll have to say goodbye.”

Alysanne gestures as she lets out a sigh again.

“Maybe this will be harder and riskier than I thought.”

“Yeah, I knew you'd say that after convincing me to be with him clandestinely,” you tell her with a scowl.

“Y/N, look—

“But you're right,” you interrupt her again, ”I mean, I knew all along. I know the risks we're taking and yet… I'm willing to do it and so is he. We both talked about it and we know this won't be easy, but it's what we want.”

She looks at you quietly, her expression in slight concern.

“Aemond has to deal with and please his family's expectations and control, without being able to do what he really wants. And I… I want to help him, to make him live, enjoy and have some freedom, if only for a moment.”

“Even if that freedom is temporary and you both end up very hurt?”

You shrug, shaking your head.

“It will have been worth it. Because, at least, we'll have tried. Or that's what you told me, if I remember correctly.”

She lets out a laugh and you follow her instantly, where after you both fall silent, as she watches you with a soft smile.

“I guess you're brave after all… or stubborn, depending on how you look at it.”

You smile, feeling a little lighter.

“Runs in the family. I learned that from you.”

At that moment, her phone rings and she picks it up, while you stand for a few seconds, thoughtfully, staring at a spot in the room.

“We should go now,” she lets you know, looking at her phone screen, “Chase says he's already with the guys at the beach. Cregan's going too.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree, instantly grabbing your phone, “I'll text Aemond to meet us there too.”

You send him the message without a problem, as Alysanne watches you in amusement.

“Doesn't it make you anxious to have to tell the guys about you and Aemond?”

“Why? They already saw us on the beach the other day.”

“Yeah, but… you know, you'll have a lot of explaining to do. A lot.”

“I guess I'll just have to put up with it.”

Pretty soon the two of you head down to the beach, especially the place where you always have the bonfire gatherings. And sure enough, the boys are already there, taking a break before surfing.

But as soon as Sam sets his eyes on you, questions begin to form in his mind, like bubbles, questions that he immediately asks you and that raise more questions in Daniel and Chase.

“How did it come up?”

“What happened?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Is it true that his family has three yachts?”

“Does his family know about the two of you?”

“I'm very confused.”

“He's with Floris, isn't he?”

“He's cheating on Floris with you?”

“So you're the other woman?”

“Will you guys stop?”

Alysanne tells them instantly serious, managing to get all three of them to shut up.

“You guys aren't going to bring that back when he gets here. It's reckless and rude. Do you guys want to embarrass Y/N or have him think us stupid and disrespectful?”

Daniel snorts.

“Please, he's a fucking Targaryen.”

“He already considers us stupid, shitty poor things,” Sam says with a scowl.

“He doesn't consider Y/N like that,” Alysanne reminds them.

“But what happened?” Chase insists, looking at you confused and interested, 'I always thought it would be Cregan and her,” he points to your cousin, “But Aemond Targaryen and you?” he says incredulously, “I mean, really, when and what happened?”

You step forward towards them, letting out a sigh.

“I'll tell you everything but first promise not to act weird around him and try to include him to the group,” you tell them seriously.

“Include him in the group?” Sam repeats incredulously.

“I don't understand anything,” Daniel also says.

So, you explain. You tell them about everything, from the beginning at the pier until now, answering their questions, taking advantage of the fact that he hasn't arrived yet.

You explain to them about his relationship with Floris, a brief explanation of his relationship with his father and what he has to do obligatorily for his family's business, or rather empire.

And also what the two are doing together, all in secret. At least it makes them less confused and they have a clearer idea of what is going on between the two of you.

And although the three of them promised not to be weird around him and to include him in the group, as soon as Aemond arrives and you introduce him, in fact they include him instantly, but not being weird, they don't do it well.

And everything you explained to them, they corroborate with him, talking to him about it and asking him questions, while you all wait for Cregan sitting in the sand.

“Your old man not letting you live, even make your own decisions, must be awful, dude.”

Sam says to Aemond with a look of pity on his side, at the same time Chase and Daniel corroborate in conversation.

“I mean, you're of age now, aren't you?”

“Yeah but having a dad like his… you don't really have much of a choice.”

“What do you mean? Like a powerful, rich, influential dad?”

“Guys,” you mumble, looking apologetically at Aemond beside you.

But he only remains silent, with a small soft smile on his lips, simply listening to them.

“No, no, we're just saying it must be awful.”

“Yeah but it's not that awful either… is it?” Daniel says doubtfully, “I mean, you still have it all, like a very expensive car…” he points to his car parked in the distance, “yachts, lots of money and pretty much life settled, bro.”

Alysanne rolls her eyes and turns to Aemond.

“Excuse him. You're with a bunch of poor people, it's obvious we're not going to understand.”

“No, it's okay,” Aemond says still with his little smile, ”I understand you have a different point of view.”

“It's not all about money and everything you can buy with it,” Sam agrees.

“But it is,” Chase shrugs, “In a way.”

“We don't have those things, dude,” Daniel says, “We have to work, make a living, somehow survive, while you don't have to do anything because you already have everything,” he points to Aemond, “And don't get me wrong, I'm not reproaching you, it's just that…” he sighs, “The rich people I know here have a fucking habit of complicating things in their families and they're not able to fix it and be happy.”

The circle goes completely silent for a moment. That's because Daniel has said what all the people in Black Waves and you as a group of friends, is exactly what you think.

It's something you've always talked about, about the rich people in Sunsets who have everything except love and understanding in their families. And that's exactly why they're not happy.

And on the other side, the poor, they have the love, the family unity, except the money and the proper living conditions that they want to have all the material things that the rich have that the rich don't enjoy because of these voids and problems in their families.

Obviously there are different opinions on this which are totally respectable, but this is something that your friends and you have seen since you were little in Sunsets. Even Cregan has corroborated the idea about what he has seen in his world.

When in the middle of the silence, suddenly Aemond speaks up.

“I understand what you're saying and you're right, very right actually,” he nods, looking at Daniel, “That's exactly what's going on in my family. There is… no love, no empathy, no communication and everything is…” he sighs, "fucked up."

Everyone around him watches him, listens to him, as do you, instantly feeling sorry for him, even though you tried to avoid it.

“It's all about what you can bring to the table, how you fit into the family 'plan.' But no one stops to ask you what you want or how you feel,” he confesses, ”The only times I've felt loved were with my mother when I was a kid and recently with my sister Hel, nothing else.”

“Are you serious?” Alysanne inquires.

“That sounds… lonely and shitty,” Sam says with a grimace.

“It is,” Aemond nods, ”And when you try to get out of it, even for a moment, the consequences are bad. And not just for you, but for everyone in the family.”

Daniel frowns, crossing his arms.

“That's what I don't understand. If you have everything, so much money… why aren't you able to be happy instead of ruining each other?”

Aemond lets out a dry little laugh, his smile now more bitter.

“Because in my world, happiness is not a priority. It's more about appearance, control and getting more, more money, more power, recognition, respect,” he lists, "And if you deviate from that, you're a problem."

“Dude, all rich people are crazy, I knew it. And your family more so,” Sam says.

“Hey,” you instantly reproach him, with a warning look.

“It's okay, it's not totally a lie,” Aemond tells you, in a soft, calm voice, “And don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for what I have. But I also want more. I want a loving, caring, understanding family. I want freedom, to be able to make my own decisions, to do what I really want to do and not what's expected of me.”

“And why don't you try to, you know… just… drop everything?” Chase asks her, intrigued, ”Rebel, be happy and live your life the way you want to.”

“It's not that simple,” Aemond shakes his head, “I'm my dad's only heir, and someone has to take his place. It doesn't matter if I want to or not. It's my responsibility, and everyone is counting on me for that.”

“But why would you have to do it?” Daniel asks, “I mean, from what you've told, your dad hasn't really done anything for you other than control you. And your family…they just watch and allow it.”

“Because that way I keep my family from exploding and we don't lose everything we have. If it's not me, there's no one else,” Aemond answers him simply and with that bitter tone of resignation.

Silence falls again on the group, where only the waves can be heard breaking softly on the shore and against the big rocks. Also the seagulls, creating a relaxing and less tense atmosphere.

Although even so, everyone watches Aemond from time to time, serious and with slight looks of pity. So do you.

You watch him silently, though not too much for him to notice. And his face, soft and hard to read… is covering all the frustration, sadness and vulnerability he is surely feeling.

Frustration and vulnerability that you feel too, because it's not fair to him. So without saying a word, you reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently.

Aemond looks down at the joined hands, saying nothing. But what you do see, though, is that little curve at the corner of his lips, smiling softly and returning the gesture with his fingers, wanting to feel you and hold you close to him.

You know it's not much. You know it's not an exit nor can it compare to all the material things he possesses. But it is a support, something meaningful and pure of heart.

“Look, dude…” speaks Chase, finally breaking the silence, scratching the back of his neck, "We're not your family, that's for sure," he lets out a low, awkward little laugh, ”But here between us… we're like one.”

Daniel next to him nods, putting on a small smile.

“It's strange to say this to a person like you, especially being a Targaryen but… if you need support, someone to listen or just a place where you can breathe… you can count on us.”

“We don't have all the money in the world…” Sam says, “neither mansions, nor yachts or cars of the year but…” he looks at everyone with a soft smile to again look at Aemond, “we're here, okay? You won't be alone anymore.”

You look at your three best friends with a small, tender smile contained with emotion and gratitude. His words, though simple, resonate deeply and make a warmth begin to spread from your chest.

And you know Aemond must be feeling exactly the same.

“I know it's hard, Aemond, but you don't have to carry everything by yourself,” Alysanne tells him, ”Seriously, if you need to get away from all that shit for a while, we're here.”

Slowly, you watch Aemond beside you, who doesn't respond right away. You notice how he suddenly becomes a little uncomfortable, stirring slightly where he is sitting, having no idea what to say or how to act.

It's clear he's never been on the receiving end of these kinds of words and gestures before. Knowing that, it breaks your heart a little. But then, there's the small smile on his lips, barely noticeable but so sincere as he watches your friends with a look full of sincerity and gratitude.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice softer. “I-I…you don't know how much this means to me. Truly.”

For a moment, no one speaks, but they don't need to. The connection is palpable, an understanding between everyone. So, you rest your cheek on his shoulder, it being a small gesture, but strong enough to convey to him that he is not alone, that you are there, that everyone is there for him.

And the atmosphere, which had previously been charged with tensions and mixed emotions, began to lighten. Chase is the first to speak, animated and looking at Aemond with a huge smile.

“Now, if you're going to officially join the poor people's group, we're going to have to put you through a rite of initiation.”

“Rite of initiation?“ Aemond repeats, amused.

“We don't have any of that,” Alysanne reproaches amused.

“True, we don't, but I wanted to start trying with you.”

Everyone laughed, even Aemond, who for the first time in a long time felt like he could breathe easy. As the group continued to joke around, throwing challenges at him like trying to surf or learning to juggle coconuts, the two of you exchange a glance.

You lean towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder. The gesture so natural and so warm makes Aemond close his eye for a moment, enjoying the moment and the simple pleasure of being there, with you, just like you.

It feels good to be surrounded by laughter and non-judgmental looks, with people who accept him as he is. And in that moment, Aemond felt something he hadn't experienced in a long time: belonging.

“Okay, well…” Sam starts to say with a mischievous grin, "I don't want to ruin the moment but… did anyone else notice that?" he points his head towards the two of you.

Chase lets out a laugh, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, of course we noticed.”

Alysanne rolls her eyes again.

“And here they come.”

“Since when is this a thing?” asks Sam.

“Since when do Targaryens accept kisses from commoners?” Daniel feigns surprise as well, holding a hand to his chest.

“Shut up,” you reply with a nervous smile, your cheeks burning.

You try to look away, but Aemond, instead of feeling uncomfortable, smiles knowingly, amused.

“So, what's going on here?” insists Daniel.

“Aren't you going to tell us your clandestine love story?” Sam also says.

“I already told you,” you reproach them, “And you promised not to do this,” you remind them.

“Yeah, but we want both versions,” they justify themselves.

Nothing stops them and they get Aemond to tell them a couple of things, exactly everything you told them.

“But what about Floris? Because if that girl finds out, it's going to be a disaster,” Chase says.

Aemond nods slowly.

“Yeah, Floris… she's part of the problem, but not the only one. My dad is the real obstacle. If he finds out and my whole family—

“It's not going to be pretty,” you complete, looking at your friends with a mixture of concern and determination, ”Then the whole town is going to find out and everything will be in chaos.”

A small silence ensues, where Sam nods thoughtfully, then looking at Chase, Daniel and finally you and Aemond.

“Okay, so all we have to do is help them protect themselves from your crazy family and your bratty girlfriend.”

“Sounds like mission impossible to me,” Daniel says.

Aemond lets out a small chuckle under his breath.

“Thanks, guys,” he says softly, ”For understanding and for not judging.”

“Judging?” repeats Chase with a smile. “Please, we're the last ones to judge. We just want to make sure you don't end up in trouble…or worse.”

The conversation and atmosphere relaxes again with their amused comments and teasing. When a voice exclaims in the distance, approaching.

”Have you already started the party without me!?“

Everyone turns their heads and sees Cregan, in his typical beach clothes and completely relaxed.

“Dude, you took a thousand years!” Chase yells at him.

“Sorry, I had to do a couple of things!” he says then trots over to all of you, closing the distance, ”My dad wanted me to help him out at the company with some doc—

He finishes the sentence abruptly as he sees that recognizable silver hair sitting among your entire group of friends and opens his eyes wide.

“Targaryen!” he exclaims with a huge grin, ”Finally!”

They do that typical male greeting and then he takes a seat next to Alysanne, visibly excited.

“Well, update me. What did you talk about?”

“A crazy family with no love, a son with responsibilities he doesn't want, a forbidden love, and a girlfriend who is actually for convenience,” Sam lists.

After that, the next hour is really about getting to know Aemond better. His favorite movie, favorite color, places he's been, things he likes to do, what things he doesn't, aspects of his life, etc.

Although the boys, especially Sam, kept saying they couldn't believe they now had another rich boy in the select group of the poor. And a Targaryen on top of it.

Cregan was a little offended at first, saying he liked it better when he was the rich guy who got the attention among all of us. Then they started making jokes, chatting, laughing more and it's like they've all known Aemond all their lives.

He had a very good inclusion to the group and he also spent as much time as he could to get to know the guys and Alysanne better.

Afterwards he and you decide to go for a short walk along the shore. You don't really talk about anything important. You just enjoy the moment, laugh, talk about everything and at the same time about nothing, hugging, hand in hand and letting the salty water wet your feet with every step.

And after a while, you return to the group, where Alysanne tells you the plan and you tell Aemond.

“The guys want to go on a ride to the sea.”

“Oh, okay.”

He nods and looks out at the small, worn pier, frowning after a brief inspection.

“And where's the yacht or the launch?”

You're about to answer but someone else does, reaching towards both of you.

“Yacht?” Sam repeats incredulously, stepping up beside you, "Dude…" he lets out a small laugh, ”we don't have any of that. This is Black Waves. But we do have the launch.”

He winks at you both and then trots over to your launch that is anchored to the pier, which was too unnoticed by Aemond, as he thought it must be an old abandoned launch and not really your launch.

“Oh,” he mutters, embarrassed.

You let out a small laugh, intertwining your arm with his.

“Come.”

The two of you follow Sam, who shows Aemond how the old launch actually has a powerful engine and that's more than enough to go sailing for a bit. The seven of you climb in without a problem and soon enough the launch is gliding through the waters.

You notice how he, at first, seems skeptical about the launch's stability, but soon settles in beside you, though somewhat cautiously.

“Just remember not to go near the piers,” you tell Sam as he starts the engine.

“Oh, sure, sure,” he nods, “We wouldn't want them to recognize Prince Charming here.”

Aemond gives him a slight nod of thanks, as you walk over to him and intertwine your arm with his, smiling softly at him.

He returns your small smile and places one of his hands on your thigh, gently caressing your skin, sending small shivers throughout your body as the whole group moves a little further out into the ocean.

After a while of sailing and no one around, Sam stops the launch and soon enough he along with Chase pull out an old fishing box with some hooks and worms.

“Well, crown prince,” Sam says, jumping to his feet, ”Have you ever been taught to fish?”

Aemond frowns slightly.

“Fishing?” he repeats, ”No. We just bought it.”

“That's what we thought,” Chase replies, with a mischievous grin, "Here too the other heir lord knew nothing," he points to Cregan.

He posts a lazy half smile as he relaxes in the sun's rays along with Alysanne, both wearing sunglasses and simply enjoying the moment.

“Yeah, it's true,” he corroborates.

“So you'll learn today,” Daniel concludes, handing him a cane.

“Is this for real?” asks Aemond, as you laugh.

“As serious as the sea is salty,” Sam replies, ”Come on, it's not that complicated.”

With some skepticism but no complaints, Aemond also gets up and follows the three guys to the bow, while you're left relaxing with Alysanne and Cregan, though you don't miss any of the show.

“Just do this,” Chase tells him, showing him how to adjust the hook line and cast the line into the water.

Aemond watches him closely and, after a few clumsy attempts, manages to cast his.

“Not bad!” you exclaim, encouraging him with a smile.

“That was a disaster,” he tells you, looking a little frustrated by his lack of skill, but also amused.

“You're doing well, you just need a little practice,” Daniel encourages him, who explains the tricks of the trade, but without missing the opportunity to joke.

Although the rods are old and clumsy, they manage to catch a couple of small fish, enough to feel a sense of accomplishment.

It takes Aemond a few minutes to settle in, as the breeze caresses his face and the sight of the calm sea seems to begin to influence his mood and comfort.

And after a couple of practice runs, he throws the line back into the water and after a few minutes, manages to catch something, which sparks cheers and exaggerated applause from the others as he quickly pulls the line as Sam has taught him.

“Look at that!” exclaims Chase, laughing, ”The fishing prince!”

The boys encourage each other, sharing a relaxed, friendly, laughter-filled atmosphere, while you watch everything proudly and happily.

You notice how something has changed in him, like he no longer wears that rigidity that characterizes him. His shoulders are slightly slumped, his posture less tense and he is smiling, really smiling and laughing.

You know this is all he needed to disconnect from everything that haunts him and you feel so happy for him to see him looking this good.

After a while, between them they put everything back together and decide to head back to the beach, but not before stopping by a convenience store to buy some chips and a few beers.

Sam and you volunteer, while Aemond stays in the launch with the others, putting on Alysanne's sunglasses and covering his silver hair with Daniel's cap.

Finally, you return to your usual spot, Black Waves beach, where you sit on the logs around a bonfire and the sunset begins to make its show in the sky.

As you settle in with Aemond, you watch as he looks at the screen of his phone and lets out a long breath as he puts it back in his front pocket. This catches your attention as you see the small but visible frown and you look at him with a soft smile.

“Are you okay?”

He instantly looks at you and nods, trying to smile a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says trying to brush it off.

Just then, you hear the faint sound of when the phone vibrates continuously, indicating an incoming call. Aemond sighs and takes his phone out of his pocket again, where you both see Floris' name on the screen.

Aemond shoots you a glance at your side and sends it straight to voicemail, then places his phone on complete silence and puts it away again.

“She's been calling for hours now. My mom too,” he lets you know.

“And it's not important?” you ask softly.

“No,” he says shaking his head, ”They just want to know where I am.”

“Well, you can tell them so they'll stop calling,” you suggest.

“No, I haven't been home most of the day,” he explains, “They'll try to get me to come back. And I don't want that. I want to…“ he sighs, "I want to stay here a little longer.”

“Okay,” you nod, without a problem.

You take his hand and intertwine it with your own, as the animated guys start talking.

“Alright, Aemond,” Chase says, "Have you ever juggled coconuts?" he asks him as he bends down and picks up three coconuts from the sand.

“Where did you get them?” you ask him instantly amused.

“It's a secret,” he winks at you.

“Is that something people really do?” asks Aemond, amused.

“It is if you're with us,” says Cregan, who appears with three other coconuts in his hands, ”I didn't know either, but they made me learn.”

“Yeah, show him,” Sam tells him, smiling.

“Me first,” Chase interjects, placing himself in the circle first.

He starts juggling them, while Aemond watches him intently,though after a few seconds he drops one, causing a ripple of laughter.

“Dude, shame on you.”

“Weren't you supposed to know?” inquires Alysanne.

“You do it, then,” he challenges her.

Alysanne steps in, taking the coconuts and giving a brief, effortless demonstration. Her moves are fluid and she manages to keep them in the air longer than Chase. And when she finishes, everyone applauds.

“It's a matter of practice,” she says, shrugging, extending the coconuts to Aemond.

“I highly doubt it,” Aemond tells her, but takes the coconuts, willing to give it a try.

After several failed attempts where Alysanne explains along with Sam, he still fails to do it and drops the coconuts to the ground unsuccessfully, though he ends up laughing along with everyone else.

Then Sam stands in the center, juggling and trying the occasional trick, making a spectacle of himself and provoking more laughter at his moves.

“And where did they learn to do that?” asks Aemond with a small smile and interested.

“With the boys in the neighborhood, since we were kids,” says Sam.

Everyone nods, as the atmosphere fills with warmth and the flames of the bonfire dance in the light wind, illuminating everyone's faces as the sunset says its last farewell of the day to bring in the night.

All the guys continue to talk, making the whole group laugh, sharing anecdotes and enjoying the fries and beers while the starry sky and the moon accompany you in the night, as well as the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

Aemond at your side watches you with a small soft smile and you return it, as the voices of the boys continue to fill the space you are in.

“I understand Cregan now,” he tells you and you look at him intently, ”They're great guys. It's been a long time since I've felt this comfortable in a group.”

“This won't be the last hangout we have,” you remind him, “Almost every day we meet here. Daniel said next time we should go surfing.”

“I'd love to,” he tells you softly, "Although…" he moves closer towards you, speaking low, ”I'm thinking of inviting them to the yacht.”

You raise your eyebrows, smiling.

“Really?”

“This coming weekend my dad will be going away with my mom on a work trip,” he tells you, “Aegon will probably go partying and stay at some girl's house. Hel and Daeron will have the house to themselves and maybe stay in and watch some movies or something.”

“That's perfect,” you say smiling, ”But, what about Floris?”

“I'll tell her that I'll start my lessons. That way she won't come looking for me. Or my siblings can cover for me in case of anything.”

“Are you sure?” you look at him intently.

“Yeah,” he tells you unconcerned, “But don't tell them anything yet. I want it to be a surprise.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding.

“Okay.”

“Dude, your phone,” Cregan says to Aemond suddenly, pointing to his front pocket with his gaze.

You both look in the same direction and see the light from the screen filter through the fabric, so he pulls it out of his pocket and you both see another missed call from Floris.

His jaw line tenses visibly, and then he slides his finger to check the notifications. Among them, a message from Helaena stands out telling him that his mom is worried.

Aemond sighs, letting out a long exhale that seems to take with it some of the calm he had achieved in the last few hours.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“What's wrong?” you ask him intently.

“I have to go,” he says, putting the phone back in his pocket.

The resignation in his voice is palpable, but there's also a hint of annoyance, as if he doesn't want this night to end. And you watch him silently for a moment, not knowing what to say or what to do to comfort him a little.

“I don't want to leave,” he says, his voice low and frustrated.

You grimace slightly and move closer towards him, lifting one of your hands to begin gently running your fingers through his hair, trying to relax him. He instantly closes his eye and takes a big breath, instantly enjoying your touch.

“It's okay,” you murmur, ”We'll go back out with them, don't worry.”

“Yeah, I know, it's just…” he pauses, ”I don't want to go home.”

You are silent for a moment, letting his words settle in the air between you.

“Aemond…” you murmur, wanting to say something to ease that burden he seems to carry.

But before you can continue, he opens his eyes and looks at you with an intensity that leaves you speechless.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly, with a gentleness and a firmness that surprises you.

“What?”

“Yeah," he insists, "Stay with me tonight."

You look at him in surprise, your mind racing a mile a minute.

“You mean… at your place?”

“Yeah,” he tells you a little more animated, excited by the idea.

And you don't know what to say again for a few seconds.

“That's… probably a bad idea,” you tell him softly, ”It's too risky, Aemond.”

He smiles thinly, leaning a little towards you.

“It won't be a bad idea if we're careful. It'll be all right.”

“And how will you be able to get me in?”

“No one will see you. The house is huge,” he tells you nonchalantly, ”We just have to be careful. And tomorrow morning, I'll drive you home.”

Gradually, the idea of going to sleep with him excites you, too, despite the risks. Honestly, you don't want him to leave either, at least not yet. But going with him… it starts to stoke that flame of danger and daring in you.

So with the condition that this can't be a regular thing, your mind finally makes the decision.

Soon after, the two of you say goodbye to the guys. You beg Alysanne to cover for you with her parents one more time, and so you get into Aemond's car. The ride to his house is short, but filled with anticipation.

When you arrive, the sight of his mansion takes your breath away. Lights bathe the imposing facade in a golden glow, and the expansive front garden looks like something out of a postcard.

It's a completely different world from your own, something you always knew, but seeing it up close makes it that much more real.

“I'll go in and talk to my mom first, she must be in the living room,” Aemond tells you as he turns off his car and the two of you are in the huge garage of his house, “I'll see who else is inside and come back for you, okay?”

You nod, feeling a little nervous but excited.

“Okay, but what if someone comes?”

“No one will come. There are all the cars,” he points around, "But if that happens, just hide in here," he points to the inside of his car, "No one will see you."

“Okay,” you nod, ”Just don't take too long, please.”

“I won't, don't worry.”

You stay alone in the car, feeling the seconds seem to lengthen in the gloom of the huge garage.

Your eyes dart around the contours of the space, admiring unwittingly the luxury that surrounds you, the perfectly lined up expensive cars, motorcycles and razers. A world completely unrelated to your own.

Minutes later, the sound of approaching footsteps brings you out of your thoughts. Aemond appears by the car door, his face relaxed.

“We're fine,” he says to you in a soft voice, opening your door and extending a hand towards you.

You take his hand and step carefully out of the car, feeling as if you are crossing an invisible line into forbidden territory. He entwines his fingers with yours, leading you toward a side entrance that leads to the house.

The door opens with a soft click and you step into the lobby of the house. Immediately, the fresh air and the faint scent of flowers and waxed wood envelop you.

Everything around you seems to glow, from the marble floors to the crystal chandelier hanging majestically from the high ceiling.

“Wow,” you murmur, almost breathless as your eyes roam the space.

Aemond lets out a small laugh, holding your hand more firmly. He leads you down wide hallways that are everything you'd expect; disgustingly rich.

There are decorations that look like something out of a museum and furniture that probably cost more than anything you've ever owned in your life. The crystal chandeliers never seem to end and you pass through a bunch of different rooms like an office, a library, the dining room, a small living room, a game room and so on.

Then Aemond guides you to a grand and majestic staircase with a forged iron railing.

As you go up, you see on the wall pictures in perfectly placed frames of the entire Targaryen family from different years, but you can't linger to inspect too much as you both move on in a hurry.

Finally, you both reach the second floor and he takes you to his room, which is almost at the end of the hallway. He opens the door for you and upon entering, it is also as you expected, simply stunning and expensive.

The room is huge, much bigger than you could have imagined. The walls are painted in dark tones that contrast with the light wood furniture.

A king-size bed occupies the center, with luxurious-looking sheets that seem as soft as a cloud. In front, a large television hangs on the wall and to one side are sliding glass doors leading to a balcony with a breathtaking ocean view.

“So this is the rich life,” you say with a mixture of awe and humor, turning to him, “A gigantic bed, a TV bigger than anything I've ever seen and a balcony with a view of the ocean? Sure, it's completely normal.”

Aemond laughs softly, closing the door behind him.

“It's just a room,” he says as he walks over to his closet which is actually another big room, just like his bathroom.

“It's like an apartment inside a mansion,” you reply, letting out a laugh as you walk over to the bed and run your hand across the expensive looking bedspread.

He takes one of his T-shirts from one of his drawers and returns to his room, handing it to you.

“Here, so you'll be comfortable.”

You take the T-shirt and hold it in front of you. It's soft, cotton and smells faintly of him.

“Thank you.”

As you change in the attached bathroom, you can't help but think about how surreal this all is. You never thought you'd experience living this, even for one night. You feel like a celebrity, in some strange way.

When you return, Aemond is sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes.

“What do you think?” he asks, looking up at you.

“That your bed is delicious,” you reply with a smile as you walk over and sink into the mattress.

Instantly the softness is indescribable and you let out a sigh of pleasure as you settle in.

“Honestly, I don't know how you're going to get me out of here tomorrow.”

He laughs again, dropping his t-shirt to the floor as well as his shorts before joining you on the bed. His skin is exposed, and though you're used to seeing him shirtless by now, something about this situation feels more intimate, more vulnerable.

Aemond settles in next to you, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. His warmth is comforting and you let yourself be enveloped by the sense of security he gives you.

And it feels simply wonderful to be here with him.

“Thank you for staying,” he murmurs against your hair.

You smile softly with tenderness, leaning into him and leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead, then bury your face between his neck and chest, closing your eyes and feeling the exhaustion take hold of you.

You both fall silent, enveloped in the tranquility of the night and the distant sound of the sea breaking against the shore. And the only thing you think before you drift off to sleep is that you don't want tomorrow to come.

All you want is to stay this way with him.

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@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines @valyrianflower

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #modern hotd #modern aemond

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ace-turned-confused · 8 months ago

Text

shiftin' gear | part one

joel masterlist | series masterlist

pairing: mechanic!joel x f!reader series outline: a slacker of a boyfriend, no job, and now your car needs serious maintenance. heading to the mechanic’s, you’re just expecting him to rid you of your car troubles and move on — you’re certainly not expecting him to change your life chapter summary: your dad finally takes you to have your car fixed, where you meet joel miller — dangerously handsome and charming beyond words word count: 3,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied and wears a dress, description of a rather useless boyfriend, strained father-daughter relationship, probably highly incorrect information about cars, smutty thoughts a/n: i watched one single fifteen minute video about changing brakes, so if anyone needs a bootleg mechanic you can hmu and i'll be there 🫡 endless hugs & head pats to @frannyzooey for not only all the help on this chapter, but all the kindness & encouragement overall 💜

Your car’s had warning lights on for probably a dangerous amount of time. You’d told your dad numerous times what was going on, not that it mattered all that much to him because the car still gets you from A to B and maybe if you drove a bit more delicately then these things wouldn’t need maintenance so often.

If you turn the music up loud enough it just drowns all that out – both the warnings and your dad’s constant berating. Coming home one night, you try one last time to ask him for help.

“Some jackass cut right across me on the freeway, I made sure he knew exactly what I thought of him though. Lucky I didn’t fly out through the windshield when I slammed on my brakes, considering there's more warnings on my dash than on a fuckin’ storm-season weather report.”

That seemed to do the trick, God, if only you’d done this a month ago. Suddenly he was scouring his search and call history for some mechanic he’d been to for his own car – “Miller’s Auto Repair”, though he doesn’t know who the Miller in question is, saying he dealt with some young boy named Eddie with greasy hair and stains on his shirt to match.

He found some time in his oh-so-busy schedule to go with you. Was he about to lecture you on your attitude? Definitely, but at least your car’s going to be fixed.

You park in the street behind your dad and haul yourself out of your car, walking up to meet him. Taking in the place, it looks decent enough – tools scattered around, a young guy working on a car on a lift, plastic chairs and a steel leg table off to one side. Maybe decent is a slight exaggeration, but it’s spacious and airy and doesn’t reek of sweat and toxic masculinity. You’re certainly out of place, the sun blazing down on you in your simple daisy-print dress and you feel slightly overdressed.

An older man comes out of a partitioned-off room, the drywall not quite reaching the rafters and sheet metal above. He’s wearing well-fitted and surprisingly chic black coveralls — a hint of skin peeking from behind the lapel, cuffs buttoned up below his elbows, belt around his hips and there are even pleats in the pant legs. And you thought you were overdressed. You mindlessly smooth out your dress, suddenly feeling like you haven’t made enough of an effort.

It’s not that you were expecting someone unattractive, but the man waltzing towards you is criminally handsome — if only you could find a boy your own age who looked like this. A part of you is actually jealous your dad found this place before you did.

He reaches out to both you and your father with a firm handshake, “Name’s Joel. What can I do for ya?”

“My daughter here’s been having some car troubles.” He gestures to you and you notice Joel gives you a once-over and nods.

Taking the silence as your queue to speak, you start listing everything gone wrong with your car. “First it told me the brake pads need changing, and that was about, what, six weeks ago now?” You glare at your dad, your tongue in your cheek and arms tight across your chest.

“Told you I’ve been busy, you know this.” He matches your look and you turn your attention back to Joel, rolling your eyes and he smirks ever so slightly.

“Aircon needs regassing, and the headlights don’t seem to want to go bright anymore.”

“Well, lights and aircon are quick fixes, can do both right now for you, not expensive. I’ll take a look at the brakes and see if we have sets here that’ll work and let you know about that.”

Your dad excuses himself when his phone starts ringing, leaving you alone with Joel.

“So why’d you bring your dad with? You seem capable enough to me.” He crosses his arms, tilting his head.

“I’d rather not have some macho mechanic clock me from a mile away, and end up getting handled for knowing fuck all about cars. No offence.” Joel smiles at your brash commentary, leaning closer towards you. “Wouldn’t do that to a pretty girl like you. Cute dress, those your favourite?”

You’re not quite sure what he’s talking about, to be honest — a fog came over your mind after ‘pretty girl’ fell from his lips and you stand there in silence, mouth hanging open in a daze.

He leans to the side and points to your chest, snapping you back to reality. “The daisies on your dress? That your favourite flower?”

“Oh! No, uh…” Your voice fades off, unsure of what to do about the heat creeping up your neck and into your ears.

Joel just smirks at you. “You can bring in that car of yours onto the lift, sweetheart.”

You nod and start walking away, your dad ending his call and he’s already asking questions about the cost of all this work. Getting in your car again, you’re flustered. All this man has done is call you sweetheart and pretty once and it’s all you can think about. You pull your car up to the shop, lining up with the lift as best you can and roll down your window.

Joel leans into the open window with a slanted smile, voice low enough for just you to hear him, “Lined up perfectly there, just go slow and I’ll tell you when to stop,” and God if that doesn’t have your mind racing. You give him a weak smile and manoeuvre your car onto the lift, stopping when he raises his hand. Pulling the bonnet lever and climbing out, you move to stand with your dad again, stepping over discarded rags and dried oil stains.

Joel does what looks to you like a whole lot of fiddling and tapping and knocking of random car parts under the bonnet, and takes the light covers off to change the bulbs; he takes a wheel off and checks the brakes and you watch him the whole time. Skilled and calloused hands moving with ease, your mind wanders off to what else he’s good at with his hands. Crouching down to feel around a toolbox, his coveralls pull tight around his ass and thighs. That heat you felt a few minutes ago only getting worse just from watching him work, embarrassment washing over you – though not enough to look away.

Everything looks like it’s back in place and he lowers the lift, walking towards you and your dad. “Gas and bulbs are done, should be good as new now. Brakes you’re gonna have to come back for, though. Eddie just used the last of the pads and discs you need on that car there, but we can get 'em easily enough, should be here next week.” You nod at him, not sure if it’s easier to look him in the eye or avoid him altogether.

“And you can’t get them any sooner? Or, how long are these current ones gonna be safe for? I’m out of town again next week and–”

“It’s fine, next week is fine.” You put a hand out to cut your dad off and shake your head. You’re really not in the mood for his entitlement, and truthfully you’re looking forward to the chance to come here again without him.

“You gonna manage on your own?” he asks, his tone almost mocking and eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” you chirp back, voice curt and monotone.

“You sure?” Of course, he wasn’t going to believe you were capable.

“I’ll get Jake to come with me. It’s fine. Really.”

Right, Jake – your boyfriend. Someone you should’ve been thinking of a long time ago, when instead you were all but undressing Joel with your eyes, imagining the nice things he’d do for you, with you, to you.

You and Jake have been together just over a year now, slept together a handful of times, and all around he’s a decent guy. You met while you both were in training and were given the same placements for industry experience. He’s never done anything inherently bad to you, but lately, you’ve found yourself putting more and more distance between you — subconsciously initially, but now it feels more like a chore to spend time with him.

He’s been sweet and kind to you from the start, but it would be nice to have him make an effort every so often, brag about you, show you off. His grand plan for celebrating your anniversary was taking you out for lunch and calling it a day; if he visits while your dad’s around, the two of them spend more time talking than you do. It’s been about two months since he fucked you, if you could even call it that, and you’re tired of either faking an orgasm or reassuring him it’s fine you never came when you forget to put on the act at all.

You can’t picture someone like Joel giving you such mediocre treatment and being satisfied with that, living life so blissfully unaware.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your fog and you notice your dad’s already walked out.

“See you then,” and he retreats with a tilt of his head and a wink.

Fuck it’s going to be a long week.

Joel already texted your dad three days ago to say you could come in, and you’ve been oddly nervous about it, your mind racing: what’s gonna be the quietest time to go, I wonder if Joel will be too busy with another job, I should make sure I’m not wearing the same dress again. You even made sure you washed your hair the night before in preparation, scolding yourself the whole time – he’s some random guy fixing your car, not to mention you do have a boyfriend.

Eddie’s nowhere to be seen, Joel’s wearing those same coveralls and there’s music playing from a worktop speaker.

“Afternoon, princess,” he holds your door open, eyes following you across the room, just the same as the week before. “Thought you were bringing a friend – what was his name?”

Fingers toying with the hem of your top, you only hope you made the right decision coming here alone. You’re not worried about something that Joel would say or do, no, but worried about something you yourself might. You never were good at hiding your feelings; you pray he can’t see through you.

“Oh, Jake?” You could keep it a secret and enjoy Joel’s attention a while longer but weighing up your options, maybe it’s better to just be honest with him. “He’s my boyfriend. He was uh, busy… today. So, just me.” He doesn’t need to know you never even asked Jake to accompany you to begin with.

“Is it cool if I stay while you work?” you ask timidly. “I can get a ride home though, if you’d prefer.”

“It’s no trouble, here.” He pulls a stool towards you, wiping it off with a smile. Joel gets to work on your car and it’s like a show, just for you. Definitely the right choice to come alone, you smile to yourself.

“So this boyfriend of yours, what’s he like?” he shouts out from the far side of your car and your smile drops.

“Oh, uh… he’s nice.” He is nice, but you can’t be bothered to think of anything worthwhile to say about him.

Joel rounds your car to stop and look at you. “Sounds to me like you don’t want ‘nice’.” His eyes trail up and down your figure and you gawk at his remark. Okay, maybe he actually can see right through you.

“Well, my dad really likes him. Says it’s good to have someone to ground you, or whatever.” Joel simply nods in response and turns his attention back to your car.

You take the opportunity to really take him in this time, with no dad around as a source of shame. Thick curls that you would love to run your hands through, sculpted nose, well-trimmed moustache, grey and patchy scruff for a beard, wide back and broad shoulders and firm chest and—

God, you need to think of something else before you get carried away. Again. You look around the room to refocus on something more appropriate, taking in all the arbitrary decor. Dog-eared posters of old rock bands, exposed bulbs dotted between fluorescent lights, a chain of mini chequered flags strung up along the wall.

You risk another look at Joel and see he’s taken two wheels off already, doing more twisting and turning of car parts you never even knew were there in the first place.

“What’s that?”

He looks to you over his shoulder, coveralls pulling tight again over his arms and back.

“What, this? Called a calliper. Holds the brake pads that squeeze against the disc, stopping the car.” You purse your lips, nodding slowly and Joel huffs out a laugh, facing away again. “Got any siblings that need car part lessons?” He continues, “Or better yet, maybe they can teach you instead.”

“Nope, just me. What about you? Any other Millers gracing the town?” You see him shake his head and he chuckles to himself.

“Got a brother, Tommy. He’s in construction. I worked with him a while back — much prefer this, though. What’s a girl like you do? Working your dream job?”

‘I’m uh, in between jobs, actually. I’m a chef — was a chef.” You look down to your lap, picking your nails. “I quit. Place was full of sexist dickheads. They suggested I put myself forward for promotion, then gave it to some egotistical asshole with both less experience and qualification. So I told them exactly where they could shove their promotion and never went back.”

You sigh and look up and see Joel’s already watching you, a faint smile on his face almost like he’s proud of you for standing your ground. His eyes are a mix of sympathy and understanding — not something you’re often on the receiving end of.

“I know I kinda fucked myself quitting like that, but I was tired of constantly being treated like shit. And not a fuck was I gonna stick around and take orders from a guy like that.” You crack a smile and Joel matches it.

“You keepin’ yourself busy?”

“Trying to figure out what’s next. Not sure if maybe I should do some more training somewhere, expand my skill set y’know, or just find another job. Not very easy with my dad breathing down my neck.” Joel nods, and his keen attention spurs you on. He’s one of few people who have actually listened to you about all this without giving you his own unwanted opinion or unsolicited advice.

“Only real silver lining is having time to pick up some old hobbies again. And talking to you, I guess.” Joel gives you a skew grin and you smile bashfully, lowering your gaze as you feel your cheeks redden.

“So what do you get up to when you’re not talkin’ to me, then?”

“Bits and pieces here and there. It’s been nice to get back into piano again.”

“Keen musician, are you? Play guitar myself, do a lot of the stuff that’s been playing here.”

The mental image of Joel playing guitar is not good for keeping your mind out of the gutter, and you're soon thinking about what one hand looks like plucking away at the strings, the other in a firm grip around the neck. One hand plucking away at you, the other in a firm grip around your neck. You stop yourself before that runs rampant in your mind, focusing on the song playing in the background.

“Wait, can you play In The Gallery?” You lean forward, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline, a grin spreading across your face in shock and amazement.

“You know this?” Joel points off in no direction, giving you the same bewildered look, and your expression changes from that of awe to insult.

“Of course I do, it’s Dire Straits. Look, I may know jack shit about cars but I do know other things. Do you sing, too?”

He shifts his weight to one leg, cocking his head to the side. “Do you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You flash a smile and he faces away again.

Joel’s bolted the front wheels back and is busy removing the rear ones when a phone starts ringing above the music.

“Hands a little full here. Can you answer? It’s just on the bench there.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you stand and make your way to find it. Sliding to answer, you hold the phone to one ear and press a finger in the other to drown out the noise, slinking off towards Joel’s office.

Joel watches as you walk into his office, phone pressed into your ear. He’s been thinking about you since you arrived with your dad last week, and he’s glad to spend some time hearing what you have to say. And, you know, getting to really look at you without your dad around.

He thought you looked beautiful in that dress last week — thought what you’d look like out in public with him in that same dress, with his jacket over your shoulders as the air grows cold, you writhing underneath him behind closed doors and waking up in his shirt next to him the following morning. He scolded himself when you drove off last week for allowing himself that indulgence, that twisted fantasy about a girl as young as you — but seeing how you are today, maybe he was right all along.

You’ve been staring at him since you parked, and the way you bite your bottom lip and openly ogle at him when you think he doesn’t notice tells him you’re thinking about the same things, too.

You seemed shy, scared even, when you first stood in front of him, overshadowed by your father and his clear frustration with you. It seems you have no issue with pushing him, but he can see in the way you stand, closed off, and hear the unease in your constant defence that maybe this eats away at you more than you like to admit. He’s spent a mere two hours with you so far, and you shine when you’re free to say whatever you want, be whoever you want.

Your boyfriend Jake, however — he might be a challenge. Your smile faded when he was mentioned, saying your father’s fond of him, that he’s nice. Maybe you haven’t been together all that long, or on the contrary, been together too long, but if ‘nice’ is his most redeeming quality… He took your indifference and curt response as a sign to not push any further for now, but that boy, whoever he is, clearly doesn’t know how to keep a girl like you happy.

He’s considering fabricating some story of something else that needs repairs on your car just so you’d have a reason to come back, even if under false pretence. You probably would believe him given the evident gaps in your knowledge, but the risk of breaking your trust might not be worth it. He should keep his distance.

He focuses on the task at hand again and finds himself paying extra attention to his work. You won’t recognise good handiwork, but he knows you’ll be excited about having a fully functional car again. It’s not much, but seeing that winning smile spread across your face will be enough for him.

Much like Joel himself, it seems, his office is pleasantly well-kept, bar a few too many half-empty coffee mugs and stray papers littering the desk. A tatty plaid-print couch against the back wall, a mini fridge tucked next to the desk, a leather jacket hung over his chair. Blinds drawn and with no sign of Joel approaching, you trace your fingers across the collar, wondering what it would feel like hanging over your own shoulders, arms drowning in the too-long sleeves and you drowning in him.

You leave his office to walk back towards him and Joel raises his eyebrows questioningly, wiping his hands off on a rag. “So?”

“Woman named Hazel? She didn’t leave much of a message, she just asked if you could call her back. Said you’d have her number.” You hand the phone to him, his hands cool compared to the heat burning under your skin.

“Ah, guess I should,” he mumbles, a hand coming up to scratch the nape of his neck.

“Hm, so who’s Hazel? Is she pretty?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, a cheeky grin on your face.

Joel scoffs a laugh. “Nobody you need to worry about, not my type.” You feel an odd sense of assurance at his admission. “Well, everything’s done, you’re good to go. Your dad paid last week already.”

“And what about all the hard work you put into this? Surely I owe you something for that?”

“You spendin’ the afternoon was payment enough.” He smiles at you, eyes softening. “I’ll see ya round, sweetheart. Come by any time, I mean it. And hey, if you ever need a change of scenery, you’re welcome to come answer the phone for me.”

You’re not entirely sure if he’s seriously offering you a job or just passing it off as banter. It would get you out of the house and put a bit of extra cash in your pockets; you’d get to spend days on end around Joel, watch him work, and maybe get a glimpse into who he is beyond the charming mechanic you know so far.

It would certainly test your resolve being so close to him. You consider all the afternoons that may look like the one you’ve just had — easy work, no Eddie or other customers around, just you and Joel and the tension between you. You suppose you’d have to find something to do to pass the time on days like these… Then again, do you really want to risk having him see you as just the girl who answers the phone?

Maybe you can fake something, an excuse to bring you back here to see him again. The ruse wouldn’t last long, not when Joel takes one look at the car and sees clear as day there’s nothing wrong, but you can pin it all on inexperience. Either way, you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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krirebr · 9 months ago

Text

Beyond These Walls in Front of Me

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Andy brings you into a new part of your home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, training, references to punishment, isolation - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here is the winner of the poll I posted last week, asking you all to help me choose the next part of this AU to work on. Of all the options, this was the one that was least fleshed out in my head, but I really like how it turned out! A quick reminder that this is an out-of-order AU, so this one is obviously after reader's first day but before Christmas.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who always tolerates me sending countless screenshots and answered my endless questions of "Is this too much? Not enough? Does it make sense??"

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You woke up at the buzz of your wristband. Andy’s arm was slung over your side as he snuffled into your neck in his sleep. You took a moment just to breathe, to gather your strength for the day. You could afford that time, you hoped. You didn’t think it’d put you behind schedule. Then, you got up, exceedingly careful not to disturb the man who shared your bed. You had learned your lesson, there. It was time to start your morning routine.

You took a shower, and using all the products he liked, cleaned yourself thoroughly. Once you were done and dried off, you applied moisturizer to your entire body. You’d given yourself a manicure and pedicure yesterday, so your hands and feet shouldn’t need attention, but you still double-checked to make sure the polish hadn’t chipped. Then it was time for hair and makeup.

Andy liked the sort of ‘low-maintenance, natural’ look that actually took forty-five minutes so you didn’t have time to waste. You got out all your toners, primers, serums, powders, gels, stains, etc. Thank god for the wide counter and twin sinks because you needed all that room to make yourself perfect for him. You avoided looking yourself in the eye in the mirror as much as you could. You already knew what you would find there. Emptiness. You didn’t need to see it again.

Once your makeup was done and your hair was in one of his approved styles, you tiptoed into the walk-in closet that he’d left unlocked and put on the outfit he’d picked out for you last night. It was a dress. Of course, it was. It always was. You hadn’t worn pants in… well, you weren’t sure how long. Time was slippery these days.

You stepped back into the bedroom to find Andy just starting to stir. You closed your eyes for just a moment, bracing yourself, then went to his side of the bed. With a gentle hand, you brushed his hair back from his face, then placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Good morning, sir,” you cooed. Your hand traveled down from the top of his head to cup his cheek, just how he liked, and he nuzzled into it as he hummed sleepily. He didn’t open his eyes though, so you slowly pulled back your hand and made your way to the bedroom door.

You held your wristband up to the sensor and the door unlocked. You knew that if you looked back, you’d see Andy’s phone on his nightstand, lit up with the alert. So you didn’t look back.

As you walked down the hall, you couldn’t help the way you sort of held your breath as you walked past the punishment room as quickly as you could. Andy had taken to leaving its door open lately, in case you needed the reminder. You kept your eyes forward and didn’t look inside.

Once you got to the kitchen, you immediately started preparing breakfast. Andy had mentioned last night that he was in the mood for pancakes, so you got out the ingredients, along with eggs and bacon, and got to work. Breakfast was the most stressful meal to make because the timing was so delicate. Take too long and it wouldn’t be ready when he came out, which would displease him. But make things too quickly and they would just sit and get cold, which you had learned quickly also made him angry. So you kept an ear open to the bedroom and hoped for the best.

It lined up well today because just as you were stacking the last pancake on the serving plate, Andy came out and wrapped himself around your back at the stove. He was wearing sweats and a T-shirt, so it must be Saturday. That meant you’d gotten to sleep in a little this morning. How nice.

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” he rumbled, in between peppering kisses down your neck.

You didn’t shrug him off. “Good morning, Sir,” you said. “Breakfast is ready.”

He made a hungry little moan into your neck. “Everything smells so fucking good. Including you.” He finally let you go, picked up the cup of coffee you had ready for him, and took his seat at the table.

When you brought the food over to him, he tilted his head up in expectation. Without grimacing, you lowered your head and kissed him. He took control, as always, with a hand on the back of your head. The most important thing was not resisting him. You’d learned that the hard way.

Once he released you, you started to move away so you could make your own breakfast (oatmeal and fresh fruit like usual), when he grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Hold on,” he said. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

Your stomach dropped. No. What had you done wrong?? You’d been trying so hard to be good! You were good. You were.

You nervously glanced at him to find him looking at you curiously. He held your gaze for a moment, then commanded, “Kneel.”

You froze, for just a second. This was new. You weren’t sure where it was going. Maybe he wanted you to keep his cock warm while he ate. You could do that. You could. You could do a lot of things if it kept you out of the punishment room.

You dropped to your knees at his feet, looking up at him through your lashes and a wide smile bloomed on his face. He gently cupped your cheek with his hand and cooed, “Such a good girl.” Then he straightened his hand and tapped your cheek twice with his fingers. “Get up, sweetheart.”

You stood up, visibly confused, and let him guide you onto his lap. He just held you there for a bit, just stroking his hand up and down your arm. When he finally spoke, he said, “You’ve been so good lately. So obedient. I’ve noticed how hard you’ve been trying. How much you’ve improved.”

You didn’t need any prompting to say, “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. That’s why I think you’re ready.”

Your brows furrowed. “Ready for what, sir?”

The smile he gave you was gentle, proud. “To move upstairs with me.”

“Upstairs?” you gasped. You didn’t know how to react to that. Upstairs had always been a far-off future thing. Just do what he says so you can get upstairs had always been the mantra, but now that the time had come, what did it mean? What should you do?

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said. “Upstairs. We finally get to start our lives together.”

“I–” you started and stopped, suddenly overcome by fear. You didn’t know what was upstairs. You only knew the basement, only knew what to expect in the basement. “What do I need to do, sir?” you finally asked.

“Right now,” he said, his tone full of amusement, “why don’t you get me another cup of coffee? Then you can make yourself breakfast and when you’re done eating, clean up the kitchen. I’ll take a shower after breakfast, that should give you some time. Then I’ll bring you upstairs.”

You hated the relief you felt at knowing what to do. “Yes sir,” you said as you scrambled off his lap and headed straight to the coffee maker. Andy watched you with a satisfied grin on his face.

You turned around halfway up the stairs, Andy right behind you. “You’re sure this is ok, sir?” What if this was a trick or a test? What if he changed his mind when you got to the top and you’d be punished?

He just raised an eyebrow. “Are you second-guessing me, sweetheart?” His tone was still light, but you knew you’d messed up.

You shook your head frantically. “No! No, sir. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want.”

He brushed his fingertips down your cheek. “I know you will, sweetheart. Now, turn around and keep going.”

You did as he said and finished climbing the stairs. When you got to the top, you tried the door but it wouldn’t budge. You held your wristband up to the sensor but nothing happened. Oh god. As you started to turn around to ask him what to do, he crowded into you, pressing you into the door, covering you with his body so you couldn’t see what he was doing. But you heard the beeps of a keypad.

And then his arm wrapped around your stomach to hold you as he opened the door and he was nudging you onto the main floor.

The first thing you noticed was how bright it was. There were windows! Sunlight was streaming in. As soon as Andy let go of you, you ran to the nearest window and turned your face up into the light. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but you swore you could feel the sun’s warmth through the glass. You hadn’t seen daylight in… you had no idea. You hadn’t been able to keep track of time down there, but months. It must have been months. Tears started to gather in your eyes and you tried to blink them away. He only liked it when you cried during sex or punishments, otherwise you were being manipulative. You couldn’t do anything that would rob you of this sunlight.

“Sweetheart,” he called from behind you. When you didn’t register that, he called your name, a hint of sternness sneaking into his tone. That got your attention and you looked over your shoulder. “Come here,” he said.

You pulled yourself from the window and went to stand in front of him. He put his hand on your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Now,” he said seriously, “being upstairs comes with a lot of privileges, but it doesn’t mean you can forget all your rules, ok? Or that you’re done training. I expect you to be just as good up here as you were down there. And if we have to go back downstairs, for whatever reason, I need you to know that it will be much worse for you. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

He smiled, big and genuine and you thought briefly of how that smile would make you melt on anyone else. “You can call me Andy now, sweetheart. That’s one of the privileges I was talking about.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, the honorific so engrained in you it just tumbled out. “I mean, Andy,” you corrected yourself hurriedly, committing the new rule to memory. “Thank you, Andy.”

He cupped your cheek. “You're welcome sweetheart,” he cooed. “I am gonna miss the way you say ‘sir,’ though,” he added with a lascivious glint in his eye.

You stood as still as you could as he ran his thumb under your eye, collecting the tears that had gathered there. He looked you dead in the eye, and you couldn’t help but lower your eyes in response. “Come on,” he said, with a grin in his voice. “Let me give you a tour of the house.”

He took you into the kitchen first, of course, and immediately started extolling all its virtues, but you couldn’t hear him. And you could only see one thing. On the stove, in the middle of all the controls, was a digital clock. It read 10:37. It was the morning because of the light streaming through the windows. (There were even more in this room. There were windows everywhere.) And it was Saturday because Andy was home today and he hadn’t been home yesterday. It was 10:37 on a Saturday morning. Holy shit. Downstairs, you hadn’t had any indication of time passing other than the buzz of your wristband letting you know it was time to get up, or start a chore, or make a meal. But now, it was 10:37. And the next time you looked at it, you would know exactly how much time had passed since now. Time would mean something. You wouldn’t be adrift anymore.

You were crying. You couldn’t help it. Andy turned back to you, one hand still on one of the two stacked ovens that were built into the cabinetry as the other moved to his hip. “What’s wrong?” he asked harshly.

You shook your head urgently. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry, Andy.”

“Tell me the truth, sweetheart,” he said, with that tone that said you were on your way to the quiet room, at the very least.

Your eyes darted around the kitchen frantically, trying to find an answer that would appease him. “No, it’s nothing. I’m alright. I just– It’s so much. I’m– I’m overwhelmed. I feel so much.” It was much more honest than you usually were with him, not counting the early days when you would scream what you really thought of him before you understood the consequences. But you didn’t know what else to say.

He took a few steps, closing the space between you and it took every muscle in your body to make yourself stand your ground, not flinch away. As soon as he was close enough, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Oh, honey,” he said, his tone so much gentler than before. “I know. I’m so happy to have you up here, too. This is going to be so good for us.” He just stood and held you, running a soft hand up and down your back. After a few moments, he asked, “Ready to see the rest of the house?”

You knew the correct answer, so you ducked your head and said, “Yes, Andy,” as he released you. He grabbed your hand tightly and quickly tugged you into the next room.

You absently took in the large sectional, the big TV on one of the walls, more windows, but mostly you were struck by how much bigger the living room was than its basement counterpart. You’d assumed, foolishly, apparently, that the square footage of where you’d been living roughly matched the main floor above it, but as you looked around you were sure that this floor at least doubled where you’d spent the last who knows how long. You couldn’t help the shiver that traveled through you as you wondered what else was down there.

There was a dining room and another sitting room next but you weren’t taking anything in, couldn’t describe anything about this house if pressed other than typical upscale suburban fare. It fit him. You had the sudden, chilling, thought that maybe it would fit you too someday. Soon. If you continued to become who he wanted you to be. Because you already were. As much as you’d tried to stay yourself, especially at the beginning, you felt all the ways he’d ground you down, all the ways you’d changed. You remembered how easily you’d slipped down to your knees just an hour or so before. Just because he’d told you to. You wanted to cry again, but you wouldn’t. He wouldn’t like that. And wasn’t that just all there was?

As you came upon the stairs leading to the next floor, you stopped dead in your tracks without thinking, your hand falling out of Andy’s now lax grip. The front door. It was just… right there. For anyone to use. Anyone to enter. Or exit. A thousand thoughts flew through your mind all at once. You could just run. Right now. Maybe with the element of surprise, you’d get a head start. There were hooks on the wall, and on one of them hung a set of keys, what looked like car keys with a few others. Grab them and run and maybe you could do it! But where would you go? You didn’t know this neighborhood, this town. You didn’t have anyone you could go to for help. You didn’t have any form of ID. Last you knew, Andy had all of your papers and cards locked up in his safe. And those were all the new ones he’d gotten for you. Your original identity, your real one had been destroyed. You knew. He’d made you watch him do it.

As you argued with yourself, on the verge of saying fuck it and making a run for it despite all the reasons not to, you noticed a small black sensor to the right of the doorknob, identical to the ones downstairs. The ones that your wristband would unlock only if it was an authorized time. The ones Andy controlled on his phone.

You looked up to find him already on the first stair, his gaze locked on you. Your indecision couldn’t have lasted that long. Just a few seconds, if that. But, as he stared at you, you felt like he could see every thought you’d ever had. You wanted to shrink back, maybe run down the stairs to the basement before he threw you there himself, crawl into the punishment room, and beg for mercy.

But before you could do anything, he held out his hand. “Ready to see the bedrooms?” he asked. His face was completely blank, his tone betraying nothing.

You tried to do the same, to not shake or look or sound guilty as you said, “Yes, Andy,” and took his hand, letting him guide you up the stairs.

On the second floor, he brought you down the hall, bypassing several doors before pulling you into the room right at the end. It was huge, was your first thought. So much bigger than the room you’d spent the last who knows how long in. The walls were painted a light blue-gray, all the furniture – dressers and nightstands, a much darker gray. The bed was one of the biggest you’d seen, Californian King at least, maybe even Alaskan. It was covered with plush, fluffy bedding and lots of pillows, all in different shades of blue, with a light gray, stuffed, and quilted headboard resting against the wall. It all screamed luxury and relaxation. You were reminded of those home improvement shows you used to watch when you had the freedom to. They’d talk about how your bedroom should be a sanctuary, everything chosen to inspire relaxation and calmness. This was the sort of room they were talking about. You could have laughed, as all you could feel was the foreboding presence of Andy, standing by the door, watching your every move. You’d never relax in here.

You continued to explore the room, trying to act like you couldn’t feel his suffocating gaze on you. Your eyes slid over the ensuite to the two walk-in closets. You immediately noticed that there were no locks on the doors. Did that mean you’d be allowed to pick out your own clothes? And did that even matter if everything was chosen by him in the first place?

You turned back to find that he’d taken several steps closer to where you stood in the middle of the room. “I know,” he said, “that I should’ve shown you the other rooms first, but I’ve been desperate to get you inside our room, see what you look like in it.” His arms came up around you, pulling you tight to him. “You’re perfect. You fit perfectly. In this whole house. You feel it too, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Andy,” you said by rote, but you did feel it. You knew exactly what he meant. You fit perfectly, just like the nightstands, or the couch downstairs, all the tables and chairs. Just another piece of furniture that he picked out specifically to make his home perfect.

His hand came up under your chin, tilting your face so that you had to make eye contact. “I’m so happy I bought you,” his words chilled you as he went out of his way to remind you of your place here. “You were worth every penny.”

You closed your eyes for the shortest moment, letting yourself feel the horror. Then you opened them, met his gaze, and said, “Thank you, Andy.”

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