#ms money in the bank

[dykekota]

new faction composed of nia jax, tiffany stratton, kit wilson and elton prince PLEASE

[star-wrld]

the implications of aelwyn making BANK working for kipperlilly is cracking me up. ms copperkettle is dishing out large amounts of money to hire known scammers and conmen so she can win this election and kristen may still beat her just because she did a cool trick at a party

[tyunniez]

converse high... bttm male reader

!!.. this has to be my worst work yet,, uhh rough sex, creampie, kinda vanilla ngl, not proofread idfk also bts ref borahae 💜

you jumped around in excitement to see one of your favorite group is finally going on tour! and they're coming to your city!

you immediately rushed to check the tickets, choosing the vip standing seat. " wait, how much money do I have left? " you stopped yourself before making a bad decision.

you looked at your bank account and almost passed out. you're broke as hell.

" why the hell am I so broke? " you questioned yourself, trying to find a genuine reason.

you scanned throughout your room till your eyes landed on your closet. " ah. that's why. "

multiple articles of clothing brimmed your closet causing it to overfill, making you slightly grimace at how your clothing rail was holding on for its dear life.

you recently went on another shopping haul after seeing your favorite idol adorning a new collection that was released by your favorite fashion brand.

you just had to get it.

yeah, maybe you had a bit of a spending problem..

your parents have spoiled you since birth because you're their one and only child. no, you weren't wealthy. you had to take on jobs multiple times, but hey hard work pays off!

you were currently on your break, and you intended to spend it going shopping till you went broke but unfortunately, due to you blowing your money to buy another vip standing ticket, that money mysteriously vanished.

" hmm.. is there any job I can do right now? " you rolled around in bed while scrolling through your phone, trying to find any quick gag you could do to earn some cash.

you ended up throwing your phone to the wall, groaning aloud when you could find none.

" i'm so lazy! not to mention my piles of assignments... " you sighed to yourself, opting to go downstairs instead to eat your sorrows away.

you were greeted by both of your parents downstairs, your mom already getting started on making lunch. " oh dear, what's wrong? you look stressed. "

you go to stand beside her, washing your hands in the process to help her cook. " I'm looking for a job to buy a ticket for a concert. my fav group is coming here you know! " you complained to your mom.

you grab the onion and began slicing it, shedding a few tears meanwhile. your mom thinks to herself, turning to you with an idea.

" you know our neighbor is actually looking for someone to babysit her kid. the pay is quite good since her kid is quite.. naughty. " you stared at the soup you were stirring and hummed.

" i can send you the details if you're interested, dear. " you nodded and decided to see how much would the pay be, who knows it might be enough.

a bonus is the kid has a total hottie as her brother!

you took one look at the pay and were sold immediately. you did the math and doing this for the amount of time needed will be more than enough.

i mean, babysitting can't be that hard, right?

⊹₊⋆

you sighed nervously as you finally approached the front door, your tote bag on your shoulder with everything you needed inside. you knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for the mom to greet you.

instead, you were greeted by someone else. " you the new babysitter? "

you stuttered, brain short-circuiting. instead of answering, you stared at the man in front of you.

the red-haired cocked his head to the side, waiting for you to answer with a raised brow. " hello? you there? " he asked in an annoyed tone.

" oh, oh yeah sorry. y-yeah, i'm the new babysitter. " you gripped the strap of your tote bag, trying your best to maintain eye contact with the man in front of you.

he hummed and opened the door wider for you to come in. you excused yourself and stepped into the house.

you walked up to ms. moore to greet her but before you could say anything she rushed towards you, her bag already in her hand.

" oh yn dear! i was just about to leave! thank god you're here. so there's money on the counter in case maya wants anything to eat. you can ask my son for any help. i'll be back before one so i hope you can withstand.. "

before you could ask any questions, she already rushed her way out towards the door. " jason, you better help the babysitter this time! thank you again and i'll see you when i get back, dear! "

with a slam of the door, she was gone.

you stood there, trying to process the information she just dumped on you. in your shocked state, jason gave you a pat on the shoulder. " she always does that. good luck dealing with that devil. ", was all he said before leaving you alone.

" maya, go easy on him! " he shouted upstairs.

you turned to the kid staring at you from the couch, a little concerned about what he just said. you've dealt with kids before, this will be easy.

⊹₊⋆

god, you regretted even thinking that.

there was a reason why babysitters kept dropping out like flies. this kid might as well come straight from hell!

you let out a long sigh as you crashed onto the sofa. you finally managed to put maya to sleep. though you couldn't really relax, still scared she might pull something with you thinking she was asleep.

" don't worry she's asleep. " you looked to the side to see jason slipping next to you on the couch, remote in his hand as he scrolled through various movies.

you let out another sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest and closing your eyes. you crossed your legs over one another, inspecting your slightly dirty converse high.

you peered over next to you, silently admiring jason.

you observed how his grown-out wolf cut, his red-haired that was now washed out is slightly messy, making it look like he just rolled out of bed.

your eyes were especially glued to his piercings. from his industrial to his snake bite, god he has so much.

you were more so drawn to his lips, that you could see his tongue-piercing. he purposely toyed with it, flicking his tongue out to tease you.

he licked his lips ever so slowly, his pink tongue grazing over his lower lip, not forgetting to graze over his snake bite. you gulped and looked away to try to get your mind on something else.

you didn't want to pop a boner in someone else's house!

" had enough already? " his sultry voice suddenly asked. you whipped your neck to look at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in a headlight, did he catch me staring..?

you cleared your throat and grabbed a nearby pillow to try to cover your growing hard-on.

" w-what're you talking about? " you glued your eyes towards the tv, trying to seem as unbothered as you can, thou the stuttering clearly gave it away..

jason rolled his eyes and discarded the pillow you were clinging onto, " oh come on, don't play dumb now. "

he pinned you down on the couch, caging you in leaving you no choice but to look at him.

" don't tell me you didn't notice at all.. "

you tried your best to look at him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was talking about. well, he was really touchy.. his hands always found their way to touch you no matter.

he always knows just where and when to linger his touches to make you slightly flustered, the way he held your waist earlier still not leaving your eyes.

he also never took his eyes off of you ever since you stepped into his house. his eyes always trailing over to wherever you are, observing whatever the hell you are doing.

your cheeks got redder as you turned your head to the side, trying to hide from his gaze. " see i know you were a smart boy, now how far are you willing to go, bunny? "

you clasped your hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back to the back of your head. this is all too lewd!

you peeked down to look at him and the view below you was breathtaking.

jason's messy hair was now slicked back with his sweat, his big hands holding your legs open as his tongue worked its way on your dick. you could feel his tongue piercing along it, the added sensation making your thigh quiver.

you slowly released your hold on your own mouth, breath shaky. " jason, i-i'm close.. " your meal voice was shaky from the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

he hummed and just continued to suck you, his hand now fondling your balls, massaging them as if to coax you to release.

you gripped the bedsheet below you, the warmth of his mouth mixed with the occasional cold feeling of his piercing was driving you over the edge. with a loud moan, you finally released in his mouth, eyes closing in bliss.

jason swallowed it all, making sure not to leave any drop behind. you didn't know whether to feel grossed out by it or not.

" ready to move on now bunny? " jason asked you while grabbing a bottle of lube, squirting a glob of it on his fingers. you silently nodded and watched as he squirted another glob on your hole.

" cold.. " you whined at him, feeling the chilliness of the lube. " don't worry, i'll warm you right up bunny. " he smiled.

he first inserted one finger into you slowly, letting you get used to the feeling. he began slowly moving it, occasionally grazing over that spot that made you see stars.

he then inserted another and another, steadily picking up his pace and getting more rougher as time went on. your eyes shoot back open as you kept your lips as tight as you could.

you were close and jason seemed to know this too.

before you could reach your climax, he swiftly pulled his fingers out. you looked up at him in confusion, dumbfounded as to why he stopped. " w-why'd you stopped? "

he took off his boxer, tossing it somewhere else. " don't tell me you were gonna cum just from that. the real fun begins now, bunny "

you watched as jason stroked his own dick, pouring lube on it. he was big. maybe too big for you. " are you sure it'll fit.. " you asked him while your eyes still trained on it.

" don't worry.. " he aligned himself with your hole, " i'll make it fit. "

with that, he shoved himself into you, the student action made you let out a loud moan. your eyes instantly teared up from the sudden stretch. you bit your lips to make sure no other noise escaped from you.

he was so big and you felt so.. full. his tip perfectly kissed your prostate, almost as if you were molded just for him.

" look at you taking it so well.. i knew i should've stuffed you full the moment i saw you. "

you stifled another incoming moan. your hands both covered your face, trying to hide your flushed face. two hands suddenly held onto your wrist, effectively prying your hands off of your face.

" don't hide this gorgeous face from me now. "

his own fingers intertwined with your own as he pounded into you roughly, going fast and aggressive from the start. a string of moans left your lips, your voice shaky due to how fast he was.

soon, one of his hands sneaked its way onto your thigh, hoisting it up. you almost screamed from how much deeper he was inside you. you didn't think it was even possible.

" jasonn, i'm near.. " you whined. your own dick bounced and twitched begging for release. " i'm close too, bunny.. cum with me, yeah? "

you nodded while jason held onto your ankles, his fingers digging into the fabric of your converse high. he somehow began speeding up, chasing his own climax.

you closed your mouth with your own hand, knowing damn well your moans were echoing throughout the house already.

with no warning whatsoever, you felt the warm liquid soon filling your inside, dropplings of it escaping from your hole. the feeling of being filled with jason's thick cock mixed with his own cum running down your ass caused you to also release.

you shut your eyes as your release painted your stomach white, some of it landing on jason's.

after a few moments of silence, he then let go of your ankles, slowly pulling out. you winced at the feeling of emptiness. you rolled to the side, jason also crawling next to you.

you soon almost lull yourself to sleep before remembering that tomorrow you have to babysit maya. oh god maya. you prayed she was sleeping like a baby and didn't hear anything.

" shit.. i honestly can't feel my legs and i still have to babysit maya tomorrow... " you groaned out loud next to him, trying to brainstorm an idea on how to babysit that devil in your current state.

jason only laughed next to you. talking about how he'll figure out a way to deal with her tomorrow. you hope he will since you can't miss the pay...

[liamnews]

How Liam Payne secretly gave up his time to help feed hundreds of struggling families in Camden

When lockdown left hundreds of families struggling to put food on the table, pop star Liam Payne had the means to help – so he did.

The One Direction singer, who died last week after a fall at a hotel in Buenos Aires, handed over £80,000 to Camden food poverty campaigns and rolled up his sleeves to volunteer as well.

This week Euston Food Bank director Dorothea Hackman paid tribute to the star and explained how he had, without publicity or fanfare, stepped in to help when they were at their most desperate.

She said: “Liam Payne was the kindest, most sensitive young man I have ever met over an incredibly long period of time.”

The singer had been approached on social media by a young volunteer who was a fan and, to their surprise, he responded immediately. As the pandemic struck and London went into lockdown, the Euston food bank went into overdrive.

Ms Hackman added: “He got in touch out of the blue and offered help. We desperately needed the money at the time. We were dealing with a massive increase in demand – because of lockdown people were desperate for food.

“He got in touch and asked what we did and what we needed. We told him about our work and he said, ‘Right, I’m giving you £80,000.’”

Half of the donation went to the Camden Town charity Food For All, and Liam visited both the Euston food bank and Food For All’s community kitchen to volunteer.

Ms Hackman added: “He came down to the food bank and really got involved, really rolled his sleeves up. He carried crates, packed boxes and bags, he visited us, supported us and was always charming.”

Ms Hackman added: “We are all incredibly upset and sad to hear the news. He really got it. He really understood his social obligations as a successful and rich person. He stood up to be counted. We will miss him terribly.

“He never once asked for anything. He did not want publicity, he did not want people to know, he just didn’t have that motivation – he saw a need and knew he could help.”

Food For All director Peter O’Grady recalled the singer turning up at a kitchen in Holborn and helping make giant pots of curry. He added: “He actually saved the day during the pandemic. He made the biggest single donation we have ever had, with no fuss. He didn’t want anyone to make a thing about it. He let nobody know of his generosity.”

[haruchi-slit]

"SEX WITH A GHOST 'CAUSE SHE KNOWS I'M ALONE!"

kinktober '24 | synopsis: | warnings: ghost! reader + missionary + mating press + suguru is working as a exorcist

suguru doesn't believe ghosts can feel, touch or be touched... but that was until, you.

*ring* *ring* *ring*

"hello?"

"...what do you want?"

"need you to exorcise something in my apartment.."

"mhm.."

"but I'm not in japan right now, can you still do it?"

"yea, transfer the money in my bank account-"

"wait! are you sure you can do it?"

"heh..yea text me the address bye."

"wait there's a lock-" ... *beep* *beep*

-

"mimiko, nanako... I'm going out do you guys want something?" suguru asks the two girls, "definitely crepes!" nanako smiles, "yep me too" mimiko agrees, "well then I'm off." suguru bids his good bye to them as he receives a message from the the client.

* here's the address: ST. 0XX BLK. 1XX *

-

"why won't this fucking door won't budge" suguru growls before kicking the door open, *SLAM!* the loud thud caught you by suprise making your ears perk up, you hurriedly climbed up to the ceiling in fear.

after destroying the door, suguru lets his self in, he wanders his eyes in the apartment scanning each corner of the living room.

"it's so dusty here", the man scoffs. he strides to the near bedroom, he investigates the room, scanning every corner of it, not sensing any spiritual imbalance, yet.

as he wonders you carefully follow each move he made in the apartment *CREAK* "heh..gotcha".

fuck that loose screw.

suguru rushes to the attic while you panicked to hide but it was too late.

you are now face-to-face with the cruel exorcist, "running away?" he groans pinching the bridge of his nose, with widen eyes you shook your head, "don't play dumb...what do you want to leave this apartment alone?" as a ghost who's been mistreated in her past life what do you want?

frozen in fear, you whisper "... I don't want to leave... this is my home..."

duguru's eyes narrow, his grin twisting into a cruel smile "ah, so you're attached to this dump. how...quaint" He chuckles, his voice dripping with sadism "I'll have to make sure you leave, then. y'know it's just... business."

you get down on your knees, before crawling to him, tugging on his legs, "please... don't make my leave!" shocking him.

Suguru's eyes widen in surprise as you cling to him, it was like your were literally holding him almost felt like you were alive, "ghosts can touch..?" he murmurs...he stares at your hand on his leg, his heart racing in his chest. this can't be... ghosts can't touch, can't be felt... but he can feel your small, cold hand on his skin. He looks down at you, his gaze piercing.

"you're alive, aren't you?" he stutters.

"i..i wish i was.." you uttered.

his eyes glinting with amusement. "liar", "but how, how can you touch me..?" he asks in awe, his hand going to your cheek. his palm cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin, "you're really dead as in you're a ghost?" he asked curiously

your face heats up and blushed..."s-so please don't - make me go away" you murmur quietly.

suguru's eyes widen at the blush on your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over the cold skin. "you can feel... and blush?", a grin spreads across his face, inching his face towards yours. your heart thumped fast as his face inched closer, slowly colliding his lips to yours.

suguru deepens the kiss, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your head, holding you in place as his tongue parts your lips, exploring your mouth, and you gladly embraced it. "hgh-!" you whimpered roaming your hand freely on his body, aching to get a taste of him... as the kiss deepens you can feel your pussy pulsing with excitement, "easy- there ms. ghostie. heh..."

hangh! ah! nghh!" you moaned between the kiss as you humped on his clothed cock...suguru's lips tugged a devious smirk as he groaned between kisses, his manhood straining against his pants, as you grinded on him, desperately. "ekk!" you shrieked as he suddenly pulled your dress down to your waist revealing your sensitive perked nipples.

his hands groped your breasts, his palms kneading the soft flesh. "You're so cold..." he whispered, his breath hot on your chest, "nghh!" his hands squeezed your tits making you gush dangerously on his clothed manhood.

suguru's touch became rougher, his hands squeezing your breasts harshly as you continued to grind on him. "You really are like a cold, untouched doll..." he hissed, his face contorted with pleasure, his pants getting soaked with your juices. "makin' such mess, babe." he mutters in a low tone, feeling his cock about to burst out off his pants.

suguru's hands slid down to your ass then to your gapping pussy, he two fingers in as he sucks your tits roughly, "ah!" you moaned as he thrusts his fingers in curling it against your g-spot. "you're so wet..." he groaned, dipping his finger in and out, his fingers moved faster, pumping in and out of your soaked cunt. his tongue swirled around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, making you scream and cream in pleasure. "nghh!" you groaned feeling a sense of release and climax,

he then flips you over discarding your panties and throwing it somewhere in the attic, admiring your glistening pussy, "she's still so fucking wet...look at her so hungry f'me" he grumbles. suguru's eyes darken as he stares at your dripping wet pussy, his hands shaking slightly as he fumbles with his pants, finally freeing his thick, hard cock. "fuck...look at this..." he growls, giving his cock a few strokes, the precum dripping from the tip, suguru's hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart as he notched himself against your entrance, "mmnh-!" "big! too big!" you gasped he grins devilishly at your reaction, thrusting shallowly, his tip barely breaching inside, his eyes glinted darkly as thrusts in you, "babe... I'mma break you..nasty ghost." he hissed, his hand groping your breast as he thrusted in you.

"ahhhn!" you cried out as his thick cock stretched you open, filling you up completely. he started moving, his hips snapping against yours roughly, "fuck you're so tight!" he groaned, his hand squeezing your breast almost painfully.

you felt like you were going to melt, your breath going unbalanced as he dips his cock in and out, suguru lifts both of your legs up to your shoulder stretching them in it's widest range.

"ah!" you gasped, as he dips his cock in and out your sopping wet folds, feeling your juices mix together.

"keep clenching on me like that ah- fuck!" he'd groan, feeling his surroundings slow down. it was like he consumed a forbidden drug...suguru's pace quickened, his hips jackhammering against yours, his heavy balls slapping against your bottom with every thrust, the sound of wet, squelching noises filling the room. "nggh! it feels so good... you're so cold and warm at the same time..." he whispers on to your ear, suguru's cock throbbed inside you as he continued his relentless assault on your pussy, you're squeezing his cock tightly as you squirmed and gushed around his cock your body convulsed, toes curling back and mouth left hanging open as you came once more "nghhh..." you moaned and with final thrusts suguru came afterwards, pumping his thick load in your pulsating cunt...not letting any of it go to waste ...

-

"wonder if ghosts can get pregnant..."

[simply-ivanka]

Trump and the Lawfare Implosion of 2024

Will his prosecution end up putting him back in the White House?

Wall Street Journal

By Kimberley A. Strassel

What’s that old saying about the “best-laid plans”? Democrats banked that a massive lawfare campaign against Donald Trump would strengthen their hold on the White House. As that legal assault founders, they’re left holding the bag known as Joe Biden.

In Florida on Tuesday, Judge Aileen Cannon postponed indefinitely the start of special counsel Jack Smith’s classified-documents trial. The judge noted the original date, May 20, is impossible given the messy stack of pretrial motions on her desk. The prosecution is fuming, while the press insinuates—or baldly asserts—that the judge is biased for Mr. Trump, incompetent or both. But it is Mr. Smith and his press gaggle who are living in legal unreality, attempting to rush the process to accommodate a political timeline.

What did they expect? Mr. Smith waited until 2023 to file legally novel charges involving classified documents, a former president, and a complex set of statutes governing presidential records. The pretrial disputes—some sealed for national-security reasons—involve weighty questions about rules governing the admission of classified documents in criminal trials, discovery, scope and even whether Mr. Smith’s appointment as special counsel was lawful. Judge Cannon notes the court has a “duty to fully and fairly consider” all of these, which she believes will take until at least July. This could push any trial beyond the election.

Mr. Smith’s indictments in the District of Columbia, alleging that Mr. Trump plotted to overturn the 2020 election, have separately gone to the Supreme Court, where the justices are determining whether and when a former president is immune from criminal prosecution for acts while in office. A decision on the legal question is expected in June, whereupon the case will likely return to the lower courts to apply it to the facts. That may also mean no trial before the election.

A Georgia appeals court this week decided it would review whether Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis can continue leading her racketeering case against Mr. Trump in light of the conflict presented by her romantic relationship with the former special prosecutor. The trial judge is unlikely to proceed while this major issue is pending, and the appeals process could take up to six months.

Which leaves the lawfare crowd’s last, best hope in Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg’s muddled charges on that Trump 2016 “hush money” deal with adult-film star Stormy Daniels. That case was a mess well before Judge Juan Merchan allowed Ms. Daniels to provide the jury Kama-Sutra-worthy descriptions of her claimed sexual tryst with Mr. Trump, during which she intimated several times that the encounter was nonconsensual.

Mr. Trump is charged with falsifying records, not sexual assault, and even the judge acknowledged the jury heard things that “would have been better left unsaid.” He tried to blame the defense for not objecting enough during her testimony, but it’s the judge’s job to keep witnesses on task. Judge Merchan refused a Trump request for a mistrial, but his openness to issuing a “limiting instruction” to the jury—essentially an order to unhear prejudicial testimony—is an acknowledgment that things went off the rails. If Mr. Trump is convicted, it’s also a strong Trump argument for reversal on appeal.

Little, in short, is going as planned. The lawfare strategy from the start: pile on Mr. Trump in a way that ensured Republicans would rally for his nomination, then use legal proceedings to crush his ability to campaign, drain his resources, and make him too toxic (or isolated in prison) to win a general election. He won the nomination, but the effort against him is flailing, courtesy of an echo chamber of anti-Trump prosecutors and journalists who continue to indulge the fantasy that every court, judge, jury and timeline exists to dance to their partisan fervor.

These own goals are striking. Mr. Smith wouldn’t be facing delays if he’d acknowledged up front the important constitutional question of presidential immunity, or if he’d sought an indictment for obstruction of justice and forgone charging Mr. Trump with improperly handling classified documents, which gets into legally complicated territory. The federal charges might carry more weight with the public had Mr. Bragg refrained from bringing a flimsy case that makes the whole effort look wildly partisan. And Ms. Willis’s romantic escapades have turned her legal overreach into a reality-TV joke.

Democrats faced a critical choice last year: Try to win an election by confronting the real problem of a weak and old president presiding over unpopular far-left policies, or try to rig an outcome by embracing a lawfare stratagem. They chose the latter. Perhaps a court will still convict Mr. Trump of something, although that could play either way with the electorate. Lawfare as politics is a very risky business.

[bambikisss]

FAVORITE PRIVILEGES:: CHOI SAN

Inspiration: Money Heist: Korea

Song: Deja Vu - ATEEZ, The Ring - ATEEZ

Summary: After your normal day at work is interrupted by ATEEZ taking over the government office, you try your hardest to keep your head down and wait until it all ends. However, one of the criminals has their eyes on you.

Story Warnings: Use of guns. Getting held for ransom, attempted assault. Unprotected sex (wrap it up, people), spit, use of nicknames (princess, baby, etc), he calls you a whore once, oral (both receiving). Of course, let me know if I forgot something.

A/N: So, I had a hard writer's block and so I got this idea while watching season 2 of Money Heist Korea. Plus, I found this picture of San's titties.F/N= friend's name and Captain is HongJoong. THIS IS STRICTLY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES

Times were hard, as of recently.

Crime rates were at an all-time high and unless you could afford to live in the high-end gated communities, then you were at risk every day for something to happen to you. Citizens had been begging the government to come to do something for such a long time, demanding that they be saved from the never-ending crime. Only after one of the lawmakers' wives was mugged did they begin to do something. They began to crack down on crime, dropping the rates down a large amount. However, it came with a cost: the government began to hog money. They stopped doing any sort of program that would help lower-income people, claiming that the money was to be used for helping keep the crime rates down. This caused many lower-class people to move and let the upper-class people fill in for them in the communities. You couldn't believe how fast your friendly neighborhood changed: people you had known for almost all of your life were moving away from the capital and leaving you to deal with the rich, snobby families who had formed an HOA just to try and kick you out.

You were in the upper middle class, working for at the capital's bank vault. You were an assistant to the chief of the vault, following him around from 9 am to 6 pm while he yelled at his many subordinates. You felt bad for them; the chief was totally in love with you and if anyone came at you with a tone that wasn't sweet then they'd be screamed at. When it came to everyone else, he was so short and rude.

"You know, Y/N, you're my favorite. You know how to do your job properly," you held back the urge to roll your eyes at your boss's "compliment," thanking him as you both walked through the lobby. For it being the middle of spring, you woke up that morning shocked that it was freezing. You were going to back inside and change, but you realized that if you did, you'd be late, so you bit the bullet as you knew after work you were going out with some coworkers and wanted to dress nice. Now that your boss was eyeing your outfit with his pervy eyes, you were regretting it. "Mr. Myung, please stop staring at Ms. Y/N's legs." You both stopped in your tracks to see F/N making his way toward you both. He had been transferred to the vault from being in the secret service, which pissed off Myung more than ever; if there was going to be someone who called him out on his shit without the fear of being fired, it was F/N.

F/N always had your back when it came to your boss, giving you a voice when he knew you couldn't use yours. You had a feeling he was going to try to make a move on you due to his passing flirty looks and comments, which you welcomed. "Here. I know how much you like this cake," you thanked him as he handed you a Red Velvet cake, promising to eat it during your break before walking away with a pouty Myung.

Around midday while you were taking out the cake, you received a notification to join the staff in the lobby, which was strange to you; there was no staff meeting scheduled for today, and why meet in the lobby of all places? You shook it off though, making your way to the downstairs lobby. When you did meet with everyone, you noticed how confused they all looked, asking each other if they knew why they were there. Before you could text your boss to see if he knew why, a loud gunshot rang through the lobby, making everyone drop at the loud echo. "Stay down on the ground!" You felt your eyes widen as 8 masked gunmen entered the room, shooting up at the ceiling once more. You felt horrified, worried that they were going to hurt you all. They promised that they wouldn't if you did what they said, which you all agreed to do; move against the wall in two groups, get on your knees, heads down, and hand over any phones. You tried to hold in your tears as you placed your phone into the bag, your boss whispering at you harshly to stop your sniffling. The masked man who was gathering the phones stopped in his tracks, crouching down in front of him as he gripped what little hair the man had left.

"She can cry if she's scared. You need to be the one shutting up before I make you." You didn't even bother to look up as your boss agreed, placing his head back down as the man moved on, continuing to gather phones. Once he was done, a loud clap echoed as one of the other criminals spoke. "Alright. I think it's time we build some trust. You've done what we've asked this far, so we should at least be aqantiences throughout this experience." Everyone looked up as the men removed their masks, showing their faces with confident smiles.

"If you need a name to call me, you can call me Captain. I chose the name based on my love for pirates growing up."

"So you mean to tell me that they're doing this to fulfill some sick childhood pirate fantasy? Give me a break," Myung whispered aggressively next to you, making Captain halt his speech. He raised an eyebrow, making his way over to grip your boss's face to meet eye-to-eye aggressively. You could see it in Captain's eyes; it was like he was possessed by a demon. The way he was just acting was so different from the way he looked at your boss. "What was that?" You listened to your boss whimper as Captain gripped his face tighter, smiling at him like a lunatic.

"Just that...Y/N's knees must really hurt! S-she definitely needs a break from sitting on them," Myung stammered out, glancing at you for support. You couldn't help but feel betrayed; to save his own ass, he was willing to shove you into the hands of a criminal. Captain glanced at your knees, indeed seeing some bruising forming. He released his grip on Myung's face before calling over one of his men, telling him to take you to the office and keep you there. You carefully stood up, stumbling behind him as he led you away from everyone towards the office that you had been in so often. You thought about making a run for it as you passed the fire exit before you noticed the heavy machinery he was carrying. You knew that if you ran, he'd either catch you immediately or kill you on the spot, and with how Captain's eyes looked, you didn't want to take any chances.

After you were locked in the office, you slumped against the wall, shaking as you cried. You didn't know what was going to happen to you and now that you were separated from everyone else, you worried for their safety as well. You rushed to the desk, picking up the phone to try and call for help, before halting when you heard the silence on the line, not the familiar dial tone. "Don't even bother trying to call for help." You jumped as the door closed behind a man, the locking sound being the only thing that broke the silence that came after he spoke. "All the phones that are connected in the office have been shut off, so you can't reach anyone, princess."

The man was tall and bulky, obviously built well. He had a slit in his eyebrow, and a small lip piercing at the corner of his lip that you would've missed if it didn't glimmer in the sun. You would be lying if you said you didn't find him attractive, but your fear overcame your underlying lust. He unzipped his jumpsuit, letting the top half fall as he stretched, his white tank top ridding up which gave you a chance to look at his abs. He caught you looking as he returned to his normal stance, chuckling as he walked closer to you. You backed away as he stalked closer, only stopping when your back hit a nearby bookshelf. "How are your knees?" You looked at him in confusion at his question before you remembered what was said to even get you in this predicament, telling him that you were alright. He nodded before his radio went off, telling him to meet the rest of the criminals in one of the nearby offices for a team meeting, signaling the end of your first interaction. As he walked back to the door, you stopped him as he reached for the doorknob. "What should I call you?"

You had a feeling that you were going to be dealing with him often, so you wanted to know what to call him. He chuckled as he found your sudden question cute, shaking his head before he opened the door, turning to face you before saying "San." You nodded as he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in the office.

San came to check on your throughout the rest of the day, taking you to the bathroom when you needed to go and took you to and from your work shifts at printing money with the others. While the others all slept in sleeping bags in the hallways, you were placed to sleep in the office under San's watchful gaze.

You woke up from one of your naps to see San leaning against the wooden desk, chewing on the red velvet cake F/N had given you. He must have not seen the fork that was next to the container, holding the cake in his hand as the frosting coated his fingers and his lips. When he met your eyes he smirked, licking the frosting slowly off his lips before placing the cake back into the container, keeping his eyes locked with yours. "Well, looks like sleeping beauty is awake." He approached you slowly, crouching down to meet your face as his frosting-covered hand rested on his knee. You bit your lip as he placed his thumb into his mouth, licking off the frosting slowly. He made it look so lewd; his tongue made sure to move around his thumb to clean up every single spot of frosting before humming at the sweet taste. You couldn't help but feel jealous, wanting to lean forward and lick the rest of the frosting off of his hand.

San must've had the same thought as you, holding his ring finger to your lips. He moved his finger along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as you licked the small amount. He felt his boxers tight around him as you leaned forward wrapping your lips around his finger, your tongue moving to clean the frosting. San had to hold back from fucking you right then and there, biting his lip as you kept eye contact with him, only breaking it when his walkie went off from HongJoong telling him to report for a meeting. He cursed softly as you moved away from his finger with a wet pop, looking up at him with doe eyes. San took a second to process what you had just done before standing up, shooting a wink your way before leaving the room. He wiped the frosting off of his hand onto his pants as he walked down the hallway, trying to calm down. Even though you both hadn't exchanged a lot of words throughout the interaction, he could tell that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

San cleared his throat before he entered the crowded room, meeting the eyes of his friends. They didn't seem to notice the white smudge on his pants, nor how quiet he was, which he was thankful for. "San, how is Y/N doing? I want to put her back with everyone else as soon as possible."

That made San snap from his thoughts, asking what HongJoong meant. HongJoong looked at San like he had grown a third head, pointing to where all the other hostage's sleeping bags were. "Y/N doesn't get any special treatment. I kept her separate so that everyone would trust us more. Now that they are used to the routine we've created for them, Y/N can go back with everyone." San wasn't fond of the idea of not being able to have some alone time with you, wanting to get to know you more and maybe follow up on what you had done in the room before he left. Call him crazy or a hopeless romantic, but San knew what he wanted.

San knew he couldn't change HongJoong's mind, agreeing to escort you to your work shift and then move your sleeping bag to be with everyone else. He knew that while he may not have the opportunity to have you alone, but he would still be able to see you around. He took every opportunity he could to walk by you or interact with you, which you actually didn't mind.

One night while you were trying to fall asleep after a shift, you were woken up by a tap on your thigh, making you jolt awake. As you quickly sat up, you were met with San smirking at you, placing a finger to his lips as he shushed you. "Come with me, princess." You nodded quietly as he helped you up, leading you back to the office. When you both entered the room, he placed his gun down before he turned to you, admiring how you looked in the moonlight. "I missed you, princess. I never got to apologize for eating your cake."

You sighed as he smiled at you, easing the tension in the room. San had let you see a different side of him; sure when someone crossed him or anyone else, he could get angry, even sometimes as bad as HongJoong. But, he let you see how sweet he was. It made you wonder how someone as sweet as him ended up in such a situation. If you had met him outside of him holding you and your coworkers' hostage, you probably would've dated him; heck, a part of you still wanted to despite the situation.

You couldn't remember what made you grip his face and smash your lips into his; only remembering the sweet taste of cake on his tongue and the way his hands gripped your hips. You moaned into the kiss as he pressed your back against the door forcefully, the kiss turning rough and passionate as his hands roamed your body. He wanted to touch you like this since the moment he saw you, and now that he was, he wasn't going to let this opportunity go.

San began to kiss down your neck, murmuring your name as you gripped his hair. "Calm down, princess. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," he chuckled against your neck as he left a mark before pulling back to press his lips back to yours. He ripped away your top, chuckling darkly as the buttons scattered around the room. You loved the way San was treating you; like he was desperate for you. He wanted you and would do anything to have you. It made you feel dizzy as he tore away your bra, tossing the ripped fabric behind him as his lips wrapped around one of your breasts. He sucked gently as he met your eyes, his skillful tongue playing with it as his free hand played with your other one. At one of your loud moans of his name, San paused before cutting you off with a kiss, shoving his tongue to meet yours to shut you up. "As much as I love the sounds you're making for me, princess, you gotta be quiet. I don't think you want everyone to hear about how the good girl is in the office fucking a criminal."

You squeezed your legs around his body, letting your eyes roll back as he bit your bottom lip. "Such a bad girl, you are. Over here about to ride and cream all over a criminal's cock. Such a whore," he placed you onto the desk as he removed his jumpsuit, leaving him in his tight boxers. You placed your hand on his body, admiring his toned body; his large pecks, his chiseled abs, his strong V-line. It was like a wet dream. San watched as your hand slowly moved down his chest, gripping the top of the bottom half of the jumpsuit. He raised an eyebrow as you got off of the desk, sinking to your knees as you took the pants down with you. Only when you began to kiss around his clothed cock did San run a hand through your hair before tilting your head back. "Open your mouth."

You did as he said, whimpering when San spit down into your mouth. He pushed down his boxers as he tapped his cock against your tongue, mixing your saliva with his cock before pushing into your mouth, pressing the back of your head against the desk as he filled your throat. "Breathe through your nose, baby. Show me what his slutty throat can do." You moaned at his words, the vibrations making San toss his head back as he pulled out, giving you a moment to breathe before he began to fuck your throat. He gripped the side of your mouth as he moved faster, cursing under his breath as he felt himself become close. "Let me cum down that throat, princess. Milk me dry," his thighs began to tense up as he came, tossing his head back as he repeated your name. He took a few moments to gather his breath before looking down at you, breathing heavily as he praised you; "my good girl" ''you did so well for me''

He helped you up, kissing you messily as he moved you against the wall. You hastily removed your skirt and panties, whimpering against his lips to hurry up and fuck you. He gripped your hips as he pressed his chest against yours, his eyes scanning your face. You believed he was looking for any hesitation; to see if you truly wanted him. "Say it, Y/N. Say that you want me."

"I want you so much, San, please." As soon as the words left your lips, San's eyes darkened once more, kissing you roughly as he picked you up. He broke the kiss with a wet pop, placing you onto his shoulders as he pressed your back against the wall. You gripped his arms as you glanced down at the floor, scared of falling down from his shoulders. San looked up at you, kissing your thigh to get your attention. "Keep your eyes on me, baby. Don't look anywhere but at me, I've got you." You nodded as you stared into his eyes, moaning softly when he licked a long stripe up your pussy. You tossed your head back as he began to tongue fuck you, the vibrations from his moans making you moan louder. You didn't care that someone could walk by and hear you, only concerned with the man who had his face in between your legs while you were propped up on his shoulders.

"That's it, Y/N, keep your eyes on me. Look at me while I eat out this beautiful pussy." He hummed against your folds, chuckling as one of your hands moved to press against the ceiling as the other gripped his arm, rolling your hips to meet his tongue. "San, I'm going to cum, fuck," you moaned softly as he sped up, begging for him to not stop.

You choked out his name as you came, San's grip on your thighs becoming tighter to make sure you didn't fall as he licked you through your orgasm. You felt like you were on cloud nine, not fully realizing that San was moving from the wall to the desk, gently moving you from his shoulders to place you on top of it. You laid back against it as San kissed your stomach, rubbing your sides as he waited. When you did come to, you placed your hand into his hair, running your hands through it. He hummed against your chest before looking up at you, sticking his tongue out at you jokingly, making you laugh. He kissed up to your lips, pressing his body against yours as he kissed you gently, cupping your face as he did. "Are you ready for me now, baby?" he hovered over your lips as he met your eyes, his free hand moving to stroke himself a few times. You nodded, letting out a small "please", making San moan. "If you keep talking to me like this I'm gonna cum fast." he pressed another kiss to your lips before pulling back, pressing himself to your entrance.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing into you slowly as you tossed your head back, moaning at the stretch. You brought your head back up as he filled you up, biting your lip as you watched San's reaction; sweat on his forehead, hair sticking to his face, his tongue sticking out as he moaned. San couldn't think straight, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. He licked his lips before he began to move his hips, moaning at the wetness that was now coating his cock and the front of his thighs. "Fuck, Y/N, goddam baby. Such a tight pussy." He hooked his arms under your legs, moving his hips faster as he pounded into you.

"San, oh my god, fuck!" your hands searched around for something to grab onto, choosing to hold onto your breasts, making him moan loudly. "Fuck, you're so hot, Y/N. Such a good girl, letting me pound into this perfect pussy. Sucking me in like your life depends on it, fuck." San felt like he was drunk, not being able to focus on anything else than how you were tightening around him. He moved one hand to play with your clit, moving your other leg to his shoulder so he could move deeper, making you moan even louder. "Fuck, gonna fill you up, Y/N, come on. Cum for me so I can fill up this pussy." You let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you came, your mouth drooling as San filled you up afterward.

You tilted your head to see San, moaning softly as San pressed a kiss to your knee, breathing heavily. "Look how fucking satisfied my baby looks. So hot," he chuckled, placing your leg carefully back down before picking you up, flipping you over so your chest was against the desk, your ass now pressed against his still-hard cock. You whimpered his name as he pushed back into you, his lips moving up your spine as his hand went into your hair, tugging your head back so you could see him in the reflection of the window. San looked so hot to you, making you clench around him before confidently saying "One more time."

San raised an eyebrow as you spoke, leaning forward carefully to press his chest to your back. "Say it again, Y/N." You confidently said it again, your desire for him giving you a boost of confidence. San smirked before kissing your shoulder, pulling out before slamming back into you, setting a rough pace. "So my good girl is out here making demands now, isn't she? Is my good girl going to become a bad girl over my cock?" You nodded as his hips began to meet your ass, his hands both slapping it before he spread your cheeks, watching as his cock continued to disappear and reappear while he fucked you.

You gripped the desk as San fucked you, mumbling things out in a daze as he did. You were drooling onto the desk, begging for more of his cock as he fucked you, which made him groan. "Am I fucking you so good that you've become so cock hungry, baby? Can't even fucking talk straight and drooling onto the desk."

"Yes, you're fucking me so good, I'm fucking coming." You tried to keep your eyes open as he began to snap his hips, slamming into your G-spot as you came. You let out a broken scream of his name, San coming right afterward as he leaned forward to shove his tongue into your mouth, kissing you messily as he breathed heavily. "Fuck, I love you, Y/N goddam," he spat into your mouth, holding your body close as he filled you up. You leaned more into his warmth, closing your eyes as he left wet kisses along your jaw, praising you gently. After a few moments, he pulled out, watching as both of your cum leaked from your pussy, making San moan, forcefully tearing his eyes away so he wouldn't get hard again. He cleaned you up with a napkin before putting back on his jumpsuit, helping you get dressed afterward.

"San, my shirt and bra are ripped. What am I going to wear?" you asked him, showing him the ripped fabrics. San bit his lip before he told you to wait a moment before leaving the room, returning later with a red jumpsuit like the one he was wearing. He helped you into it, smiling softly. "You look good in red, Y/N." You gently shoved his shoulder, making him laugh before he picked back up his gun, tilting his head to the door. When he noticed your hesitation, he asked what was wrong. "Well, what am I going to do when the others ask why I'm wearing this?" San hummed in thought before shrugging, saying "If anyone gives you a hard time about it, tell me." He offered you a smile as he opened the door, leading you back to the others for your work shift.

The others did ask why you were wearing a jumpsuit "those criminals," along with why you weren't with everyone else sleeping. You tried to make up excuses, trying to get through the shift. However, while you were exiting the bathroom, Myung grabbed your arm, tugging you to an empty hallway. "I know you're fucking that pretty boy, Y/N!" You tried to deny it, Myung punching the wall next to your head in response. "I was going to head into the office to try and call for help when I heard you moaning that asshole's name."

You felt a cold wave rush over your body at his words, trying to come up with an excuse to calm him down, not wanting the others to hear. "I can't believe you, Y/N. After knowing me for so long, you reject my advances but you bend over for some dick from a criminal?" You tried to apologize when you paused at his words. He was more upset that you had sex with someone who wasn't him than the fact that you had fucked your kidnappers. You shoved him back, telling him to screw off before you began to make your way back to the others. Before you could turn the corner, Myung roughly grabbed your hair, pulling you back against a wall. He pressed his arm against your throat, screaming at you for disobeying him. You watched as he raised his hand, almost as if he was going to slap you. But, before he could, his hand was grabbed by San, who pulled your boss back roughly, pushing him to the ground. San had an almost dead look on his face, pointing his gun at your boss who was now begging for his life on the floor. "If I ever catch you about to hit her again, I'll kill you on the spot."

San kept his eye on you more closely after that situation. The others began to spread rumors that you were in a relationship with him, which you always denied. However, you found yourself thinking about it at night. Did you want to date San? He treated you well and cared for you. Besides the fact that he was holding everyone hostage, you loved him.

You loved him.

You wanted to go on dates with him, wake up in your bed the next morning with him- you wanted to be with him.

->

When San came to you a week later letting you know that he was going to escape with the others later that night, you felt your heartbreak. You had grown so attached to him, so the idea that he was going to disappear sort of broke your heart. "I enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N. I hope we can meet again, someday," San smiled sadly at you, feeling the same way. He cupped your face, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. You gently gripped his wrist, closing your eyes before taking a deep breath, meeting his eyes again. "I want to come with you, San...."

"Y/N...If you do, there is no coming back." San let his thumbs rub your cheeks, scanning your face. While San did want for you to come, he wanted for you to know that if you did, you couldn't come back; you would have to start brand new. However, you didn't care; if you had to move far away, then you would do it. If you had to change your name and go through the 4 years of college again, then you would. And if in the end, you regretted it, then you at least did something you wanted to. "San, I want to come with you. I love you."

San nodded, pressing another kiss to your forehead before sighing. "When the red siren goes off, you have to go to the back, we'll be leaving there." You nodded, going back to the sleeping bag area, laying down but you didn't fall asleep. You were about to change the rest of your life forever.

Around midnight, a red siren went off, waking everyone up. You watched as everyone rushed to the doors as police sirens rang through the place, letting you know that the police were there. You slipped through the crowd before running to the back loading dock, where San and the others were packing up the freshly printed cash you all had been printing for the past few days. When HongJoong saw you, he glanced at San before sighing. "Are you just going to stand there or can you lend a hand?!" You snapped out of your daze before helping them place the bags into the truck. Once all the bags were in the truck, San helped you get inside before closing the door. "You know you're an accomplice now, right Y/N?" you nodded, gently holding San's hand, making him smile.

"But, I get to be with San. So, it's all worth it."

[caramelcleopatraa]

iv. SUIT & TIE

word count : 1,400

x : hey y'all, its the owner of The Bank speaking! Finally got this shit finished, and I'm halfway into part 5 already 💋 Here are the playlists loves! I will actively be adding to these as the story progresses. We got ms. plot in the building as well xo

content : Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, suggestive

Playlists 💋 Spotify Apple Music

“Rommannn! Are you done yet baby?” A high pitched yell on the other side of the door startles you. Roman’s grip on you tightens and you give him a confused look. He plants a tender kiss on your cheek, leaving you a little bit flustered, and he smiles at your flustered expression. His hand pushes your head down on his shoulder and you take a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Just be patient, ok?” Roman says sternly. “But Baaeee! You’ve been in there too lon-” “I’m not finna tell you again. Wait,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. Annoyance was written all over his face. De’arra groans in defeat and the comfortable silence settles back into the atmosphere

‘Pleeaase! Please! Pleeaassee! Don’t let this turn into some drama…’

You let your nails drag across his chest. “Am i gon’ have to worry about her fucking up my shop?” 

“Nah, she all bark no bite,” Roman says, looking down at your hands. “She’s not that petty or jealous.” You look at him with your eyebrow raised. ‘For him to be a ladies man, he should know how petty bitches are. ESPECIALLY when it comes to a man.’ “I hope so. I don’t wanna deal with yo’ loose ends,” You say, getting off of him and standing up to pick your bottoms off of the floor. 

“I got my shit together girl. I already told you i’m not fucking with her. She’s only around me cause her daddy likes my money.” ‘Money? Who’s her dad?’

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

“The couples are finished.” Aahkilah yells at you from the otherside of the door. Both of you get dressed and clean up the dressing room. You were about to walk out of the room until Roman grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You were going to question why he pulled you away before his hands rose above your head. His hands firmly smooth down your hair and fixed some stray hairs. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He handled you with such care and delicacy. You tell him thank you and he responds with a short hum.

 You open the door to greet your clients. Gio and Madison are working as cashiers, ringing both of them up for their suits and dresses. Jey and Jimmy are putting in their payments while Talia and Trinity are talking. “Girl come over here real quick!” You hear Talia yelling at you to come over. From the tone in her voice, you couldn’t tell what this conversation was going to be about. However, you wouldn’t be in the dark for much longer. “Wassup?”

“Girl you ain’t hear?” Trinity says looking at you with a confused face. You shrug your shoulders and replied, “I be busy. Enlighten me.” “There’s a new family trying to replace the Anoa’i family.” Talia crosses her arms and sits into her hip. The blank expression on your face says everything. The Anoa’i family has been managing Florida for decades. To challenge them would be like walking straight into a turf war. Apparently, someone wanted that war. “They’re offering hella bank tryna take their spot too. I wonder if that shit’s fake… or a bluff maybe.” 

“They’ll take that offer back when they realize who they’re messing with,” You mutter to your friends.  Even your family didn’t dare challenge them, because they’re smart enough to know it’ll go every other way but good. Your family, the Semele’s and the Anoa’i family have always been on good terms. The Semele’s don’t own turf however, they are known for having access to a lot of things most mafia’s don't. Your family is known for being suppliers of information, stolen goods, weapons, you name it. So if Reigns is being threatened, that means you could be in trouble too, since everyone knows these two families are tightly tied together. A power duo, if you will. 

“You’re not worried about this?” Trinity’s face is laced with concern for you. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your eyes. “This could just be a scare tactic, and those don’t work on me,” You said confidently as you gave them a reassuring smile. 

“That’s not something for a pretty lady to worry about. I’ll handle it,” Roman says, looking straight into your eyes. Goddamnit, those eyes. Somehow they made you so flustered. His presence was enough on its own, but his stare was so damn powerful. You were ashamed that someone you had only met an hour ago was making you so giddy and out of character. The tension between you two was thick, and everyone was starting to see it. “You gon’ let me handle it?”

“Well you're not gonna let me handle it?”

“It’s not your problem,” Roman says sternly, deading the conversation then and there. You walk closer to the cashier desk to talk to him directly. “Is this your way of caring for me?” Roman smirks at your comment. “When I said I'd take care of you, I wasn't just talking about that pussy.” Gio and Madison’s jaws drop at his comment. You could see them looking at you through the corner of your eye and you knew you would have to explain what he meant by that. You couldn't hide the smile forming on your face. “You like that?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was smiling. You could hear it all in his tone. “Boy, I’m not playing with you,” you say, walking away, still wearing an existing smile. Roman laughs to himself and hands Gio a stack of cash.

“Neither am I.”

You finished another successful busy day. A shit load of fittings and pickups. Roman had someone pick up all of their suits and dresses, which completed all of your custom orders for the day. Finally, a chance to get off of your feet.

“Ummm what the hell was that this morning?” ‘Ahh shit’. You internally roll your eyes. Eventually, they were gonna bring it up to you. Maybe trying to play dumb was not the best decision on your part.

“What was what?” You innocently bat your eyes at the two ladies. “The smile off you had with your private client. Don’t tell me something went down after I dropped off your drink,” Madison says, sitting down in the swivel chair next to you. You almost muttered a snarky comeback when you were hit with flashbacks from this morning. How he spoke to you and how he touched you kept replaying in your mind. A pool between your legs was forming just from the thought of him. 

“Oh he definitely put it down.” You are quick to defend yourself just as Gio says, “You’re over here in lala land! And at your job too!” Gio acts shocked and puts her hand over her heart and lets out an exaggerated gasp. You hit her in the side and shy away from their investigating eyes. The deafening silence was telling the truth for you. 

“Well we didn’t fuck.. But he did eat my pussy,” you shyly said, still looking away from them. You didn’t have to look at them to know that their mouths were wide open again. What you didn’t know was those open mouths turned into wide smiles. “Ok! Ms. CEO gettin some head! Was it good?”

‘WAS IT GOOD? GOOD’S AN INSULT’ “Um…” 

Before you finished your sentence, Madison interjects with, “Musta been, you looked like you were in a good mood today too. Especially after Roman’s fitting” You regrettably looked back in their direction and saw Madison wiggling her eyebrows. You lightly shove her away from you and stand up. “No, the fitting went well with no complications. That's what I was happy about.” You attempt to defend yourself, but you should’ve known that it was falling on deaf ears. Madison and Gio help you close down and lock up the shop. Of course, Madison had to tell you her two cents before going your separate ways. 

“Look at you smilin-”

“Shut up.”

Welcome to your new addiction

Hi guys, back with part 4 and the playlist that you guys wanted. As always comment and tell me what you think <3

🏷️ tags :) @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 6, In Which You Try To Look Away (It's Harder Than You Thought)

AO3

by the way, I saw today an art on twitter which is extremely Raul-coded

I am not a murderer, you thought as you ordered the ATM to give you another two hundred euros.

Even if I am, that guy deserved it, you thought as you re-inserted the card to give you two hundred more (damn those limits per withdrawal).

Even if he didn’t (and he did), nobody is going to miss him, and his fiancee will move on to the next lawyer in Oliver Peoples glasses soon enough, and besides, people die in freak accidents all the time. 

Even if they don’t, well, if every death wish resulted in an actual death, humanity would be long extinct and that wouldn't be your fault, would it now?

With that comforting thought, you pocketed the last of your ten thousand euro goal, tired from having to repeat the same task for almost an entire hour. Anything can happen, Raphael could cut off access to his account on a whim, but cold hard cash was something you could hold onto even if you fell from his grace.

"Ms. Berger," came a voice on your phone with a strong French accent the moment you picked up. It was Raphael’s banker, Francois-something, who gave you the PIN in the first place. “Would it be easier if we delivered cash directly to you? Your withdrawals keep triggering our petty theft alerts."

"Oh no, thank you," you replied, trying your best not to sound like a petty thief. "I have enough for now... I think."

“As you wish,” came his slow reply.

"But uh... could you help me make two bank transfers?" You asked after a pause. "One to my mother, Franziska Berger… (how much how much how much?) ten thousand euro, I’ll send you the details… and one for the stray cats shelter... (how much how much how much?)… five thousand euro?"

Too much? How do you quantify the cost of accidentally-on-purpose getting some useless yuppie run over by a bus in terms of absolving your sins? 

Five thousand felt somewhat stingy.

“The stray cats?” The banker repeated back at you as though questioning whether this was some sort of coded drug deal.

“Yes,” You replied firmly. “They do incredible work. Ah! The kids cancer foundation, too. Five thousand. No, ten".

That seemed about right for the guy’s life.

"Ah, you meant charity. Of course," Francois replied, relief and amusement in his tone. "Lovely, great for the ESG rating. Make sure to get an invoice for the tax refund."

It didn’t quite sit well with you to use stray cats and kids for tax refunds, but you still said yes and stashed the money deep down the rucksack. You got a bit of cash for now (soon you will go for more, because who knows), but it’s still not an income source. 

What could be? Should you ask Raphael to buy an apartment in your name, or two? You could rent it. Or a company? Tenebris, for instance. Just imagine their gobsmacked faces - especially after they gave you the boot without even a severance package.

That was a delicious thought.

You let it simmer as you sat down in an tourist-trappy Italian restaurant in the city centre, just about to order an Aperol Spritz when your phone began to ring again. You are in high demand these days.

"Anya!" Your mum gasped on the other end of the line. “I saw you on TV!"

Sure, the accident was all over the news channels. Some blurred out the dead body better than others did. You would bet your last cent that the unedited version got more views.

"Yeah, gruesome," you grimaced.

"Gruesome? Why? Ah, you mean the guy. Well, that happens all the time; they really give driving licences to anyone these days. I do hope the driver rots in prison for what he did to this poor young man. Anyway, no. I called to say, I saw you and Raul on the news”.

She managed to infuse an uncanny amount of innuendo into the last sentence.

“Raul is such a handsome man, Anya”, she sighed wistfully. “Quite the catch you got there, huh?”

There we go again. 

“What, way out of my league?”, you joked dryly. “I’ve been told that”.

“Oh, no, what nonsense! You are such a pretty girl!” Your mother protested. “More importantly, a good-hearted girl raised right; I am glad there still are decent men who still appreciate that. Did you meet Raul for a lunch?”

“Oh no,” You replied nonchalantly. "We actually… ah, we actually went to a church. He introduced me to his pastor."

Your mother sucked in an audible gasp like she'd won some kind of maternal lottery.

“His pastor, already? I am so happy for you, sweetie.”, she finally managed to say. “This is like a fairy tale come true”.

Yeah, a Grimm one.

“Sort of”, you chuckled. '“By the way, you will receive a bank transfer soon, ten thousand euro, don’t be afraid. It’s… well, take care of your health, okay? Get a decent dentist this time, a private one”.

“Where do you have the money from? Is it his?”, your mum suddenly sobered up. “Anya, what on earth is he paying you money for? I hope you are not doing anything… anything…”

"No," you cut her off and licked your lips, recalling the last thing that passed between them. “Mom, please! It's not his money, it's my company’s – long story.”

One that you haven't come up with yet.

Besides, if Raphael was giving you ten thousand dollars (thirty-five thousand in total with your other expenses for the day) for one blowjob, then you definitely had a successful career, just not in the field you had planned on.

“Okay,” your mum replied. “But still...you don’t need to...why don’t you buy some nice dresses instead? What on earth was that t-shirt you were wearing to a church?"

“I am hanging up”, You threatened half-heartedly.

You didn’t. You listened in the background to the story of how your mum’s school friend called her to say she saw “her Anya” with a very handsome man on the TV, nonplussed by the fact there was a scattered corpse in the background. 

In the meanwhile, you opened Google on your phone. 

You didn’t fancy doing that before - annoyed by that fake persona Raphael had created. But since he obviously put that much effort in it, it’s worth looking up what he had been up to and for how long.

Nothing good, for sure.

"…Raul D'Avergni, managing partner of an international law firm, inherited the private equity conglomerate, Avernus Capital. This transition was precipitated by the unexpected and tragic passing of his father..."

"…By December 2024, D'Avergni's high-profile liaison with Isabelle Arnaud, actress and socialite, had unceremoniously ended..."

No. Who? No. You didn’t need any ex-girlfriends.

"…Ms. Arnaud levied abuse accusations against Mr. D'Avergni…”

Oh, no…

“…she retracted her claims within a mere twenty hours and ensued a public apology for any harm inflicted upon D’Avergni’s reputation..."

Hmm.

"…her psychiatrist intervened on her behalf. Evidently, Arnaud was grappling with severe mental health issues that led her to make unfounded allegations..."

Raul likes them crazy, they said? Or makes them crazy?

"…Ms. Arnaud now resides in a high-end medical institution in Monaco, focusing on her mental health issues..."

What did Isabelle look like, you wondered, as your mum finished her talk and wished you a good day. You typed her name into the search bar, holding your breath in anticipation as you half-expected to see Hope's face staring back at you.

The woman clinging to Raphael's arm at some fancy film premiere bore no resemblance.

Your stomach sank as if it had plunged into the depths of hell.

She was exactly the type of woman Raphael should have on his elbow; a timeless beauty, but something more Renaissance like, the kind of faces humankind seemed to have stopped producing. She was in her mid-twenties, as well, but… hell, you could not hold a candle to that. Few could. 

Not even the Tavs. She resembled her namesake, Isabelle Adjani, in her youth, maybe even better.

The pictures showed her laughing and looking deeply in love while gazing up at Raphael, while he offered only a very formal smile to the camera. So not Hope then. Nothing like their story. She was in love, he wasn’t. 

Good.

Later snaps by paparazzi painted a different picture: a gaunt woman hidden behind oversized sunglasses and swallowed up by her hoodie, clutching to her coffee cup. 

With a swift click, you banished Isabelle from your screen and plunged further into Raphael's (Raul’s) life story.

You found a photo of Raphael in his twenties (yes, just like the Tumblr post you hated, and no, you wouldn't have fucked him at that age), caught up in a minor scandal in Sankt Moritz (apparently his fraternity brother had pissed on the Swiss flag), more gossip, his philanthropic affairs for local theatres and art galleries, numerous articles praising his professional achievements, and interviews with Lawyer and WSJ and the like. There was mention of a brief marriage and divorce in his early thirties, but when you tried to Google the woman's name, nothing came up.

The whole thing left a sour taste in your mouth. This was someone's real life story, not a fictional character. Raphael wasn't just some wealthy corporate jerk; he was a half-devil from Avernus, which was infinitely better and more sympathetic.

You were well aware that Raphael wasn't exactly a good guy. But he had his rules; he had to have his rules. As for the whole thing with Hope though... What exactly was she? An idea? A person? The fandom barely discussed her, and what little they did, you didn't like; all horrible takes, every single one.

The whole plot felt half-baked.

Anyway, what seeing Isabelle did motivate you to do was to take a real stroll down the city's most expensive boutique street.

Now, the first thing you bought was not because you wanted or needed anything, but because Raphael expected you to. You were not much of a materialist anyway; you were ideologically opposed to consumerism. These things were overpriced, generally not worth it and, on a larger scale, represented everything that was wrong with society.

You decided to enter a Valentino store out of curiosity, as you had never been inside one before. The saleswoman's disdainful look at your T-shirt motivates you to buy a black dress with a white collar, not necessarily because you liked it, but because you want to prove that you can afford it, despite the price tag of two thousand euros. 

Well, you liked it a little. The wool and silk blend was great to touch.

The details of the rest of the shopping trip became a bit hazy. You had your reasons; the consort of an Archdevil Supreme had to look really nice. If you couldn't be as pretty as Isabelle, you could at least dress as well as she did. So you started with some nice blouses and trousers, and a (just one) jacket. With that, you needed shoes. With shoes, of course, you needed a bag. Now that you had a bag (you closed your eyes as the price flashed at the till), you needed some jewellery (you needed to see what all the fuss about Tiffany's was about). And, of course, you needed make-up. 

At each shop, the sales assistants smiled wider and wider as you piled more and more bags onto your arms. By the seventh stop, it felt like their smiles were entering uncanny valley territory. 

Eventually, the banker would call you, right? But when exactly would that be? You tried to find out, but failed. It had to be over forty thousand.

The thought made you dizzy. In one day you had spent your entire year's salary. Now all you could do was hope that Raphael wouldn't make you work off the debt somehow. Unless it was the kind of work your mother suspected you were already doing for him.

You came out of the last shop with five bags and the feeling that you were a very shitty socialist. Since you couldn't carry any more, the shopping concierge (apparently it's a real job) offered to store the bags until your driver picked you up, and just as you were about to say which bloody driver, whom do you take me for, you remembered that you actually had one.

"Mrs Berger," the receptionist said cheerfully the moment she saw you in the door. "Nice to see you again! How can I help you? Oh, yes. The driver, of course. Yes, of course, let me put you through to Mr D'Avergni's personal assistant".

Oh, it's Mrs Berger and my pleasure? They were wondering if the rumours about you wanting the guy to be run over by a bus were already out there. The personal assistant's name was Camilla, her voice was the embodiment of professionalism, and she was the one who could take you to the driver, who was there in no time.

His name was Yuri and he was more talkative than you would have liked. Gruff, huge, way too big for the car he was driving (any vehicle known to man would be too small for him), with a deep booming voice and the face of someone who had spent half his life behind bars.

"Have you seen that poor bastard? All over the main road," he remarked as he passed the street cleaners. "Probably too busy fiddling with his phone to keep an eye out."

"Mghgm," you offered. 

"So, are we stopping by your place first, Miss Berger? Boss said you wanted to get some things first. Are you moving in?"

"Am I?" You ask, surprised by the news yourself, and then think to yourself: "Why not?”

Why the hell not.

****

You didn't waste any time. With a tidy suitcase in tow, you were out the door of your apartment before Yuri could get too bored. You packed the essentials - toothbrush, laptop, documents - and a few other things that suddenly felt crucial to your life.

Out the car window you watched the cityscape change from urban jungle to manicured suburbia and finally to a small gated community. The driver talked politics (he had exactly the kind of convictions you'd expect), then about how amazing Raul was (and how extremely open-minded he was to give an ex-con a job), before returning to politics. 

You didn't ask what crime Yuri did his time for. 

You knew it was Raphael's house the moment you saw it through the car window. Who else would live in such a place? Not a house, that's too boring a term; a villa, all intricate stonework, marble and terracotta, such a flamboyant display of wealth that it should have been taxed just to exist. 

Only a devil or a mafia don would call such grandeur home. So much, too much, theatrical to the point of grotesqueness; no real person could possibly live like this. You couldn't help but wonder if Raphael had been influenced by the films he had seen - perhaps he had developed a taste for modern cinema.

He must have liked The Godfather.

This place. The fountains, the statues (classical, Roman, as if sculpted by the ghost of Michelangelo), the gardens. You wondered how many souls it took to keep this whole thing running.

The gates opened and the car drove you into an underground car park that was already very busy and very Italian: Ferraris, Maseratis, Lamborghinis. You counted; eight. Who needed eight cars? Not even one for each day of the week. 

The lift took you up; Yuri left your shopping bags and suitcase in the foyer and said goodbye.

You'd never set foot in such a house before; the closest you'd ever come was drooling over Sotheby's property listings.

Why would anyone need all this space? For just one person? It was at least six hundred square metres; and the guest and service house looked like another two hundred. The kitchen and dining area was three times the size of your apartment.

You could play golf here.

For what it's worth, the villa didn't remind you of the House of Hope. Firstly, it was completely empty; the servants, if they were in there, managed to make themselves invisible. Second, it lacked the baroque, replaced by the dolce vita and flair of a Lake Como residence. Thirdly, there were no self-portraits, not even pictures, nothing to suggest that the man who lived here had a face, a history, let alone a family.

The first floor was devoted to entertaining guests: the kitchen, the dining room, the library, the ballroom (you guessed this kind of rooms used to be called ballrooms, he even had a piano in it). The second floor was half-locked, except for the master bedroom (the bed easily could accommodate two orthons and a cambion sandwiched between them) and the dressing room. 

There was also a basement - the entrance blocked by a number lock. You considered trying the PIN combination, but decided you didn't want to snoop down there... well, you wanted to snoop very badly, but you didn't want to face the possible consequences. Unless they resembled those in his private club.

So you roamed both floors twice before staking claim to your new sleeping quarters in the master bedroom by putting your suitcase down there. You checked everything else in the room: Raphael's bedside glasses, his choice of books (predictably, Machiavelli, but not The Prince, another book you had never heard of called Mandragola), even his dark silk pyjamas, which lay on the chaise awaiting their owner's return. You open his drawer: hand lotion, velvet sleeping mask, lubricant, two opera tickets (Götterdammerung) from about a month ago... 

Then curiosity led you to look under his bed, where he indeed had something stored: a large black storage box.

Oh, you just had to have a look. 

Just to get an idea of what’s on the evening programme.

Handcuffs, the real kind, the police kind, metal ones. The thought of all the women (and men) who might have been bound with them, as jealous as it made you feel, was titillating. A whip and a crop. Yes, that works for you. And what's this? Butt plugs? Only if they were still sealed in their original packaging (you were not into that kind of hand-me-downs) and way smaller. A chastity belt? Well, that's... intriguing, but probably not in your first month together. A hook? That can stay where it is.

At least nothing too extreme like needles or enemas or any of the other disgusting things you sometimes saw on weird porn sites.

Underneath all that, toys and accessories, lay another plain black box. Oh, a box in a box. Something was written on it.. 

GOOD EVENING CURIOUS LITTLE MOUSE

"Good evening," you said as you opened the lid.

Then promptly closed it again.

"No," you said. "No, no, no. It was just a fic I read and liked, I was very horny, but it's not really my thing. No, thank you. Just because I didn't have a father doesn't mean I have daddy issues. I don't care about the guy, he never cared about me, end of story".

You took a deep breath before opening the box again, hoping that the items inside had disappeared. 

But to your dismay, they were still there: a velvet collar adorned with "Daddy's Little Mouse" in shimmering gold thread, a headband with mouse ears, red lace cobweb-thin lingerie and a tail-butt plug (thankfully still in its original packaging and on the smaller side). The tail was furry and tipped with white, so you must have been a dormouse.

All of the toys were top quality, handmade, and incredibly vulgar. Well, no surprise, having seen what Haarlep was wearing in his house.

You closed the box shut again.

"I'd rather cook us something to eat," you suggested, getting up. "Some pasta. I bet you like pasta?"

You definitely liked pasta and hoped that Raul (Raphael, Raphael) would not have you hanged on the hooks and tortured for your very non-Italian interpretation. You hoped in vain, because he chimed in and tried to stop you from committing a crime:

"Working late. Don't bother with dinner. Take some time to relax and enjoy yourself. R".

As you descended the stairs, ignoring his text, you wondered - did he ever cook? Or was his kitchen just for show, with the real work done in the servants' quarters (do they still call them quarters?).

You forgot that question the moment you saw what was lying on the marble kitchen counter.

The same box you had left upstairs, still with 

GOOD EVENING DISOBEDIENT LITTLE MOUSE 

on it. 

You blinked and took two large steps back. 

The box seemed to crawl forward in response.

You shrieked; this was a bit too much. Raphael's presence, the supernaturality of it, had been subtle before; now it was becoming a bit performative.

"I got your hint," you said, your voice a shaky laugh. "Don't scare me, please. Please."

The box stayed where it was, but it radiated an energy of impatience, as if it might jump at you if you neglected it any longer.

“Fine,” you conceded, coming a bit closer. “A little romance would’ve been nice but…”

"Setting romantic atmosphere," a cheerful female voice said.

who the fuck who the fuck who the fuck

Alexa. 

Fucking smart home systems. The lights dimmed to a soft orange glow, the heavy curtains closed with a soft whoosh and a familiar tune echoed off the walls, the ballroom piano playing in the distance:

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

The melody was familiar and so was the voice behind it - smooth, silky and oh so captivating (the adjectives you would use to describe it could fill many romance novels). A deep, rich baritone. You chuckled - had Raphael discovered blues? It suited him. 

You know I cannot stand it

You running around

You loved his interpretation of the song. It felt so intimate, him singing to you, so... very, very special. Your fear vanished in an instant; you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a luxurious sip.

"I'll put these on for you," you laughed, putting all the flirt you ever had in this laugh. "But don't expect me to call you 'Daddy'."

There was no protest; Raphael was too busy singing, pouring his entire soul into it. You made yourself busy too; stripping. You weren't very skilled (any skilled), but the thrill of being watched by him awakened something in you. You caught your reflection in the mirror and damn, you were hot. 

Shrugging off your shirt and sliding down your plain black briefs, you swayed your hips at your reflection as the wine worked its magic on your mind. For once in your life, you felt genuinely attractive; he made you feel genuinely attractive. The sexiest you'd ever been. 

Slipping into the silky red lace lingerie he had chosen for you (splurged on, because it was a La Perla) - you fastened the collar around your neck. A long golden chain dangled from it, wrapped twice around the hook and cascaded down your back. Then you put the mouse ears - not cartoonish, not Minnie Mouse ones, but real fur and incredibly lifelike - on your head like a headband. 

You looked like...well, precisely what your mother suspected you were doing to pay the bills. But at least high-end. Very high-end. The only thing worse than being an escort is being a cheap one.

But there was one more item left in the box.

"Ehh," you said at the sight of the mouse tail, especially the part that was meant to be inserted. "I'm going to need... I'm going to the bedroom."

It had been ages since your last foray into such play; back when you were with that boyfriend who constantly pestered you about anal and found it somehow arousing to "accidentally" (sure, mate) poke you and mumble an insincere "oops, wrong hole". 

You didn't stick around much longer after that.

Stretched out on Raphael's sumptuous bed, you slicked up everything - the plug, your pussy, your arse - with copious amounts of lube. First, some warming. So you began to rub yourself, two fingers finding their familiar way to your clit. You couldn't shake the crawling feeling of being watched, every inch of your body scrutinised by unseen eyes.

"Raphael," you called out into the empty room, desperate for some form of interaction or response. "I would love it if you would join me... or say something pleasant”.

Now would be the perfect time to call me a good girl.

But there was no response, just an eerie silence in the room. Feeling too naked and too slutty, you pulled the blanket over you, a makeshift barrier between you and his eyes. Under the fortification, tucking the tail in seemed less daunting.

Before you could get down to business, there was a jerk at the blanket, which fell to the cold floor, leaving you bare again. Then another tug on the chain attached to your collar, pulling you closer to the bedpost.

"I'm sorry," you gasped breathlessly, both hands instinctively reaching for your collar. "I won't hide."

The chain didn’t let go, making a point out of a slight pressure around your neck. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand, stroking your clit as you guided the plug inside you. 

You told yourself to relax and take it slow; just imagine it's Haarlep. How many times had you dreamed of being squeezed and stretched between the two of them? It was always Haarlep who took you from behind; it just seemed more their style.

The plug slid in deeper. It didn't hurt, and the little discomfort it caused added to the excitement. 

Damn, this is so dirty. 

"It's in," you said as the plug settled inside you. "All the way in. What's next?"

The words were barely out of your mouth when the golden chain, suddenly a snake-like lasso, wrapped tightly around your wrists.

Pulled them towards the bedpost, stretched out and bound tightly to either side. Fear gripped you and you clenched around the plug, pulling your knees tight together.

Tightly. Very tight. A little too tight. You tried to wriggle, the metal biting your skin; you could move your hips a little, but no more. 

You couldn't get out yourself, which was not good news when you were alone (well, almost) in a very big house. Your mind immediately thought of that girl in Gerald's Game.

"Raphael?" you asked. “It’s not that kind of game, is it? It’s a nice game? Can we play a nice game?”

He did not answer, but you heard footsteps. Footsteps coming down the long corridor. Confident, quick and very purposeful.

Stay calm, stay calm, it's him, it's him, who else could it be? Haarlep? The orthon? The driver? 

The door swung open.

It was Raphael, and he was visibly surprised to see you in this state, which was absolute bullshit considering he was responsible for tying you to this very bed. 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, covering the distance to the bed in two strides. "What a welcome home surprise, piccola." 

Raphael gave you a lecherous, wet-lipped smile and knelt on the bed between your legs. There was something boyish about it, an expression you'd never seen in the game, as if he'd just found his first bike under the Christmas tree.

You searched for “piccola” earlier today: “baby” or “little girl” in Italian. 

"I'm not going to call you Daddy," you repeated, and Raphael shook his head and laughed, not seeming at all horrified at the thought (and he should be).

"I have some compelling evidence to the contrary, Daddy's little mouse," he teased, his fingers playing with your collar. 

"Anything but Daddy," you pleaded. "That's just... demeaning."

Weirdly incestual, too. You haven’t even seen the guy, not a photo, not a… (don’t think of him why the fuck would you think of the old bastard now).

“This is the whole appeal of it, is it not?”, he said. “How would you prefer to address me then?"

Raphael? Something told you that telling him that would make him very angry, and you weren't exactly in a position to want an angry man on top of you. Raul? No, that name just felt completely wrong and made you feel like you were in a Spanish soap opera. 

Raphael began to unbutton his shirt one button at a time, revealing a white undershirt, which he then took off. 

His physique was impressive for a man of his age; not those bodybuilder abs from bg3 but a well-toned body shaped by workouts and diets, which seemed to be very much at odds with his indulgent ways. Rough brown hair spread across his chest and lower abdomen against honey-tanned skin. Every inch of him seemed so put together, so perfectly groomed.

"Master," you finally decided (there was this one fanfic…) as you spread your legs wider in an invitation. 

"Master?" Raphael seemed amused, his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the fabric. "Such flattery. So this makes you my slave girl? Tied up and ready for me to use as I please?"

Reading Raphael say such things was one thing, but hearing him actually say them in real life made you feel embarrassed. It was a bit, ugh... 

“You get flustered easily for someone who waited for me dressed like this, little mouse,” Raphael raised an eyebrow at your see-through lace. “Topolina." 

He wrinkled his nose and laughed, as if the word was funnier in Italian, and poked the tips of your mouse ears. You wanted him so badly that your lips caught his as he came closer and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He kissed your back, his hands moving up and down your body. 

"How the hell did you manage..." he mused aloud as he studied your bound wrists.

His fingers ventured between your legs, and the moment he stumbled upon your tail, his whole body twitched with excitement, his breath catching in his throat as he traced the soft fur to reach the base of the plug. 

The playful gleam in his eyes was replaced by an intense, wild desire.

"Merda," he breathed out. "Look at that. Aren't you a dirty little girl?"

You cringed at how pornographic the line sounded (his suddenly much thicker Italian accent didn't help), but Raphael seemed to find it excruciatingly erotic.

In one swift motion, he lunged forward and forced your legs apart, his hands pulling your knees towards your chest, folding you in until your muscles screamed in protest at the stretch. 

Without warning, he thrust deep inside of you. You gasped in surprise; no preliminaries, no foreplay, no taking it slowly, just raging, explosive lust.

Fortunately, your own fingers had done their job earlier, so despite the brutal force of his first thrust, pleasure surged through you, along with a sharp twinge of friction as his cock rubbed against the toy lodged inside you.

He seemed to relish the sensation and so did you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body arched beneath him; stretched and pinned by his weight, trapped, surrendering to the relentless pounding that followed - raw and invasive and yet so fulfilling.

You were so looking forward to coming again from his penetration alone. The mere thought made you pull harder on your restraints, craving the delicious pain of being bound. The furry tail must have tickled his balls because he tucked it under you so that it would tease you instead. 

"Cross your ankles behind my back," Raphael rasped into your shoulder as he grazed it with his stubbled chin. "Yes, just like that... now tilt your hips."

You responded with your most submissive “yes, master”, making his cock twitch inside you, and then sifted your hips to better accommodate his pleasure. Wrapped your legs tightly around him, pulling him in deeper, pain-pleasure soaring through you. You sniffed his hair. 

His cologne (worn leather, cherry liqueur, bitter almonds) smelled so good oh so good.

He slid his arms underneath your arse, lifting you towards him at every thrust. 

Raphael said few words after that, grunting and thrusting and thrusting. Something about him was different this time - something very human - from how his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead to his expressions of sheer lust that bordered on comical at times. 

One thing remained the same - the pleasure his pounding brought you, the familiar hooks of approaching orgasm - not any orgasm, the orgasm of being with him, his sharp talons - sinking inches deep into your flesh again. 

fuck does he feel good

rough or tender it just feels so good

his cock his tongue his breath on your neck

You screamed "fuck me", then once again, louder, not caring how obscene you sounded, and bit his shoulder without a second thought. 

The scream that escaped you was higher pitched than you had intended.

do whatever whatever you want whatever you want with me

Raphael's face creased with annoyance as his strong finger pressed into your cheek. "Easy…easy… piccola... I appreciate…. a good performance… not …overacting," he scolded as he went at you harder, pushing you to the point of pain.

hurt me

fuck me fuck me harder

You would have protested at the implication that you were pretending, but you were too busy coming under him, his hand clamped over your mouth before your temporal insanity could drive you to actually call him ‘daddy’.

If he wanted you to why wouldn’t you he is so sweet to you oh so sweet to you

The scream was swallowed by his palm as an orgasm, brutal in its intensity and lightning-fast, ripped through you, whip-snaked it. You greeted your release with a wail, biting into his hand. Raphael paused mid-thrust, apprehensive of how your pussy convulsed around him and your leg spasmed uncontrollably - if this was a performance, you deserved an award.

"You weren't pretending," he panted, awe-struck. "My apologies. You were not".

The realisation frenzied him; he spilled within a minute after, rutting into you with intensity belying his age. Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of you, his breath, cherries and tobacco, warming your throat as his cock softened within you.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," he said, sounding embarrassed and slightly apologetic as he lay down beside you. "But it seems you're more than content."

You eagerly and quickly nodded.

"Are you that... passionate with every man?" He asked as he helped you free your wrists - jealousy creeping into his voice at the mention of that mysterious 'every man'.

You couldn't help but laugh at the question. "No," you replied. "Far from it. You are not just any man. You are anything but."

Raphael let out a sigh of relief and kissed you, making no effort to hide how much your compliment pleased him. 

When you parted, you hopped awkwardly off the bed - the odd gait one adopts when they have a plug in them (no way were you going to remove it in his presence, no way) and cum was trickling down your thighs. 

Shit, the condom. Now you forgot to ask him to wear it.

Would he have?..

Ah, screw it. Google says Plan B is effective for up to 72 hours after unprotected sex, so you'll take it tomorrow - for tonight and last night. You'd never been this careless before, but hell, you'd never murdered people with a mere thought or slept with an Archdevil of Hell.

Raphael was still lying there, basking in the afterglow, when you returned.

"I have to admit, Anya... I'm seriously thinking of proposing," he murmured with such tenderness as you snuggled against him that you wondered if Raphael really was incapable of love.

"That would be quick," you replied, but made it sound like you wouldn't mind at all.

"Quick?" he scoffed. "A man knows what he wants in a woman the moment he sets eyes on her. Unfortunately, there are very few left in your generation."

You smiled, already dreaming of being the Archduchess of Hell, and half-dreaming in general from sheer exhaustion and satisfaction. 

"They lied about you being bad in bed," you murmured as sleep began to take over. "I knew it was all bullshit."

"They?" He asked, his face contorting into a scowl at your sentence. "Who are they? Anya, for God's sake, stop reading those trashy tabloids."

You closed your eyes for a moment. When you half-opened them, you saw him on the balcony outside, in a black silk robe, AirPods in his ears and a cigarette in his mouth. Behind him you could see the smoke and fire of the Avernus mountain ridge, the fireballs cascading down from the sky. Beautiful. 

Raphael gestured with his free hand, aggressively, and you listened a little closer; fortunately he was more than loud.

"...we will bleed them dry if they dare to break our agreement..."

"...they knowingly and willingly accepted our terms, they will choke on the consequences..."

"...all must pay their dues, sooner or later..."

"...an army? We have our own army..."

A yawn escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the plush pillows of the massive bed. Everything, except the AirPods, fit perfectly into the image of Archdevil Supreme.

You felt so chosen, so alive, so gloriously alive, and your life had just begun.

"Are you coming soon?" you called out as you tried to think of an appropriate nickname for him - something intimate, but not too cheesy. Darling? Baby? Sweetheart? Love? My favourite devil?

But he beat you to it before you could decide.

"Soon, my love. Rest," he blew you a kiss. With a loud click, he shut the glass door and cut you off from hearing the rest of their conversation. You let out a contented sigh and rolled over onto your side, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

"My love," you said in your sleep. "Raphael called me his love”.

****

The urgent need to go to pee woke you. The time was a mystery, but it must have been late enough for Raphael to have gone to bed too.

He was pressed close to you, his hand cupping your breast. You looked over your shoulder; asleep, peaceful, in buttoned pyjamas, and it was the one moment when he did not look threatening at all; vulnerable, if anything. You kissed him on the cheek and he smiled in his sleep and held you close. 

When you came back from your short (not really, a good thirty metres to the toilet) trip to the bathroom, you snuggled closer to him, preparing to doze off again, and then you heard something.

You listened closer, thinking you had dreamed it first.

Soft, gentle whimpers. You recognised the voice. You didn't know how, but you did. Something childishly cheerful and slightly mad about it.

Oh, no. No. You were happy, spooning with Raphael, and you didn't need this shit right now, especially when things were finally going so well.

Hope, please, you begged.

You got all your happy endings, so many of them, wonderful endings where Raphael was killed by the player and you got to live and your revenge and whatnot. Can I have one too, please? Without you whining and making me feel guilty for something I didn't even do?

"My love," you asked Raphael softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his side. "Can you let her go?"

"Mmm," Raphael murmured in his sleep, "Sure, piccola. Whatever you wish for."

You waited for him to act, but he only tightened his grip on the blanket and shifted slightly.

"You have all the hells and the crown and everything (and me). You don't need her anymore," you tried again. 

"Anya, let me sleep," Raphael mumbled into his pillow, away from your voice. You tried to hide from her voice under your pillow as well, but you could still hear the soft, painful moans. 

Ugh. 

They were very, very far away, but still there.

"She's still wailing," you complained, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him a little. "Raphael? Raphael?"

 "Who is wailing?” he groaned in pure frustration, and then made a half-hearted attempt at listening. “Ah, merda, not that bloody bitch again! I swear, I will plug that hole myself!"

You tried to make sense of that sentence and couldn't, but what you did get was that it promised Hope nothing good and sounded vaguely vulgar, which was even worse. 

"Don't hurt Hope," you begged, appalled by his threat. "She doesn't deserve it!"

"I don't deserve it either," Raphael retorted before turning away from you. "Please be quiet."

He should direct this request to his prisoner. 

What had really happened between them? You didn't think his obsession with Hope was sexual because, well, because, for example, he fucked you and you both enjoyed it, so he was definitely into consent, and Hope was more like a metaphor, a concept, a point to be made, and some shitty fucking rushed Act 3 writing.

"You... you didn't hurt her like that, did you? There was some talk... With that boudoir line... It was misinterpreted... right?"

Right. He may be evil, but he is lawful evil. He believed in consent and seduction, not violence. 

"I haven't hurt anyone, what in damnation are you talking about?" he growled through gritted teeth, and you let out a small sigh of relief.  "But if I don't get some rest, I might."

He hadn't hurt Hope. He wouldn't lie. He cannot; devils can deceive, but not outright lie. You read it somewhere.

Okay, he's not going to let her go and he's not going to help you and Hope was certainly not going to shut up. You have to go to her. And say what? Say what? Sorry for your predicament and the centuries of torture, Hope, but could you please be a bit quieter, me and Raphael just had sex and are trying to sleep? 

Let her go? And lose his favour, his credit card and the place next to him in his bed?

Yes, come on. It would be the right thing to do and you would do it. 

Where was she anyway, you wondered as you walked down the stairs. In the cellar? Hanging from the ceiling? You still don't have the key to the cellar. When you reached the ground floor, the kitchen, you realised that the noises were not coming from the cellar - they were coming from outside.

Outside? Did he hang her on a tree on this cold April night? 

You put on his trench coat and slipped into your sneakers. This was so unnecessarily evil, you thought, suddenly feeling much less happy about everything, especially as the pained whimpering got closer. Hardly human, you thought, more like a creature trapped and desperately trying to free itself. 

Yes, definitely more of a creature.

In fact, it reminded you of a dog. You searched the darkness of the night, determined to find it, and there it was: a dachshund wedged between the ground and a large, weathered fence, whimpering into the still night. 

The poor thing must have thought it was quite the burglar, trying to burrow under a hole in the fence to pull through. But it only managed to get itself stuck.

"Oh, poor baby," you said as you approached the dog. "Let's see if we can get you out."

You pulled on the fence to widen the opening and the cub was free.

It licked your hand in gratitude. Dogs love you. All animals do, and it's quite mutual. You had a harder time with people.

There were distant, panicked cries for Steffie somewhere in the distance; the owner was out on a rescue mission. You took the dachshund in your lap and went to meet her.

The woman was in her sixties, dark brown hair, a very aged beauty, and she looked a bit funny in her fur coat and slippers. She had tears in her eyes. Steffie ran to her as soon as she saw her.

"You silly little girl," she scolded the whining, complaining dog in her arms. She had a thick American drawl. "Why do you keep going back to his house? What's so special about him? I told you he was bad news!"

"Is he?" You asked the question when you knew the answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, forcing a smile to her lips. "I didn't mean it like that. You're Raul's new girl, aren't you? Samantha. I live down the road. Sorry about Steffie, she's very... adventurous."

There were exactly three houses on the street, a mile apart each.

"You meant it like that," you said. "If it's about Isabelle, she's apologised and withdrawn her accusations".

There was a pause, and Samantha's perfectly friendly smile cracked a little.

"Well, in that case," she said, before adding with forced cheerfulness, "thank you for looking after Steffie, sweetheart! You take care now."

She tried to walk away, but turned back; she was as curious as her little dog.

"I was walking Steffie when that French girl ran out of his house," she said, unable to resist the urge to gossip. "She was naked and babbling like a lunatic. She had blood on her, too".

"Did she scream something about the devil?" you asked after a pause.

"Devil? No. Not that I speak French," said the woman, making a last attempt to walk away, but failing. "Listen, I have a daughter about your age. And if some guy - ANY guy - tried to put that kind of crap around her neck, I would chop his arms off".

What did she mean? 

The collar. 

She meant the "Daddy's little mouse" collar you still have around your neck. 

Oh, don't kink shame me, you were going to say, but that kind of talk sounds ridiculous in real life. She managed to shame you very badly, so you hid the collar under your trench coat and mumbled, "I put it on myself".

That actually made her look at you again. Steffie looked at you with the same expression. 

Everybody's out to guilt trip you - Hope, the dog (the dog you saved!), the neighbour, the guy who got thrown under the bus, and you've done nothing but enjoy some devil sex.

The woman finally decided it was time to go, muttering "You need Jesus, sweetheart" before she left.

That's your God who kept women in collars and on leashes for centuries, not the Devil, you thought bitterly, and unlike the Devil, he didn't even fuck them. 

Well, only once.

***

You were back in the en-suite bathroom, washing your face in the marble sink.

Who the fuck was this man, really? What the fuck was happening? 

Your hand shot out, yanking open a cabinet door. An array of men's grooming products stared back at you - cologne, razor, facial moisturiser and scrub, deodorant, shaving gel, sleek, expensive bottles. A man took care of his looks.

Another cabinet creaked open under your touch. 

Your eyes darted to the label on the bottle - Risperidon. You had no idea what it was, but you memorised it for a future Google search, repeating it under your breath like a mantra. 

"Are you rummaging through my belongings, nosy little mouse?”

He was dead asleep last time you checked!

You jerked, closing the cupboard and stumbling back to the bathroom sink, gasping for breath. "No," you stammered, turning to find him standing in the doorway. "I mean... yes. I can't sleep. I thought you might have some pills."

His eyes were canny; he didn't swallow your lie and made no pretence of doing so. He bridged the gap and hugged you from behind - frighteningly strong and wanting every ounce of that power to seep into your bones. His strength made you realise just how much of a level 1 human NPC you were.

"You don't have to violate my privacy when I'm not around, Anya," he whispered against your skin as he began to trail soft kisses down your neck. "If there's anything that's bothering you, just ask me directly. I want us to be honest with each other."

What was in the cellar? What kind of work does he do for you? Did he rape Hope? Or was it Haarlep? Where is Haarlep, by the way? Why does Raphael want to play Raul? 

"What happened to Isabelle?" you asked. 

"Ah, I see. Is that why you asked me if I had hurt anyone?" he said. "Is that what the tabloids told you?"

You nodded.

"Isabelle had an addiction," he admitted, the crow’s feet showing themselves. "It spiralled out of control. She had… a bout of psychosis, a mental breakdown. Made false accusations to the press. She's now getting the help she needs, poor girl”.

"Why was she covered in blood?" you pressed, looking at his reflection in the mirror as an infernal light danced in his orange eyes.

For all the fire in them, they seemed icy, impossibly cold for a man who had called you my love less than an hour ago. "How did you come by this information? You seem to know more than one would expect of you, Anya. There are things about you that make me... wonder. I have been giving you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps foolishly."

Your breath caught in your throat. “The neighbour”, you said. “Your neighbour told me”.

The truth you’d spilled slaked him, but only a little. He looked at you, jaw hardened.

"Samantha? I’ll have a word with her. Very well, we were making love when Isabelle had a psychotic episode."

Making love? Really? He did not make love to you.

"She lashed out at me," he continued. "It was my blood, Anya. I would never hurt her or any other woman. Without their consent, that is."

But that couldn't be true, because there was Hope - and many others who owed him, and Raphael might have been many things, but not a liar, and yet here he was, lying right to your face.

He did hurt people. Whether they deserved it, whether they brought onto themselves, that was a different matter, but he did hurt them.

"If you need proof, you can take a look at the psychiatrist's report," he offered coldly. "The authorities got involved... unfortunately."

"I believe you," came your shaky reply. 

You desperately wanted to. 

Raphael’s eyes flickered.

"Trust goes both ways, Anya," he whispered in your ear, running a finger along your collar. "If you do not trust me, then I will be forced to ask some very unpleasant questions myself. Do we understand each other?"

Which questions? He knows everything there is to know about you. He knows your browser history.

“We do”, you said, still looking in the mirror. “Of course we do, my love”.

"Is that so?” he smiled. "I suggest we go to our bed and put that theory to the test."

[sarkos]

While seeking to finance a new stadium for the billionaire owners of the Buffalo Bills, Ms. Hochul, in her words, “started playing hardball” with the Seneca Nation by freezing its bank accounts until it handed over more than $500 million in gambling revenues. The tribe contends it never owed the money, though federal courts have backed the state’s demands. She also nixed legislation that would have granted long-sought recognition to Long Island’s Montaukett tribe, which was declared extinct over a century ago in racist court rulings that remain in force today. But perhaps no official action by Ms. Hochul has angered the state’s Native Americans more than her veto last year of a bill that would have made it more difficult for developers to build atop the remains of Indigenous people’s ancestors. Despite its reputation for being progressive, New York is one of just four states that offer no meaningful protections for unmarked graves discovered on private property. Even deep red states like Alabama and Wyoming offer more safeguards for Native American graves than New York does.

Clash Over Building Atop Native Burial Sites Angers N.Y. Tribes - The New York Times

[simplysedusa]

How do you picture a Sedusa and Femme Fatale interaction play out? Like I’m a girl’s girl and all but I’d love to see Sedusa hair-whip her into oblivion lol

I'm pretty sure I talked about this somewhere, but I envisioned an episode between these two where they robbed a bank together at the same time and realized they work well together initially. With Sedusa distracting the security and handling the girls, while Femme Fatale takes the money and makes a run for it, they're practically unstoppable.

Until the two realize that they can't stand each other. Femme Fatale would definitely look down on Sedusa, viewing her "promiscuous wiles" as degrading. Meanwhile, Sedusa finds Femme Fatale's misandrist view on crime to be annoying and prudish. The two fight it out similarly to Sedusa's fight with Ms. Bellum, but with the Powerpuff Girls and the bank tellers cheering both of them on. The episode wins with the two arguing in the same cop car in cuffs. Sedusa definitely won though.

[devondespresso]

I Can Only Hope Now (STWG Daily Prompt: Claudia)

G | 1269 words | ao3 link | cw: absent father, brief references to Steve’s absent parents

Thank you @saradika-graphics for the dividers! 💛

Claudia Edine Henderson never wanted to get married. Not really.

But she wanted kids, so that meant either getting married or seeing if the daycare was hiring.

Anthony Laurence Goldman wanted a family. She thought that meant the same thing, so they married.

And it was good. They had a beautiful baby boy, Dustin Clarence Goldman, healthy save for a defect with his bones. No collarbones, and the high chance he’d need a little extra medical attention down the line, but he’d still be living long and happy, and she couldn’t ask for more. 

Eventually, their baby's cries stopped waking both of them up in the middle of the night. It was just her, because mothers had a sixth sense for it. 

No sleep, no time, no awareness of what she let it do to her until her mother called, apologizing for the odd hour, and she realized she couldn’t tell the difference between four in the morning or six at night. After that, her mother stayed a while, helped with the baby when Anthony was at work.

Anthony helped when he could, but his real specialty was money. He knew how mortgages and insurance worked, knew how banks and credit card companies stayed in business, knew how to get the lowest bill from the hospital, so having to pay out of pocket for Dusty's somehow only ‘cosmetic surgeries’ wouldn't leave their wallets dry.

He knew how to juggle all that convoluted adult shit that scared the living daylights out of her. It was like it came so easy to him.

Maybe it didn't. She'd never really know.

It was his domain, and he preferred it that way, for years and years until it started looking like family was more like the backdrop for his dreams, instead of the subject of them.

She talked to him, lord knows she talked to him about it, but each new month of trying faded back into three of forgetting.

Dustin grew old enough to ask. Just enough words to get the question across. Where did Daddy go?

They separated a few months, hoping he’d miss his son enough to work with her on this. 

She gave him the ultimatum that turned into a divorce.

He agreed happily, saying that it would prove how much weight he was really pulling. That he didn’t need custody.

Claudia Edine Henderson and Dustin Clarence Henderson moved back in with her mother, and for three more years she figured the rest of it out. She found a job at a bank, learned the ins and outs of the business while balancing her own funds separate from both her ex-husband and her mother.

When Dusty was old enough to bike to and from school on his own, they finally moved out to a quiet small town, far away from Anthony. Dustin found friends so fast, faster than she ever could have hoped, and she was able to tell him everything.

She had no idea if she made the right choice for him. It was the right choice for her, and in a way that probably made her a better mother for him, but she could never be sure if that distance made any of it easier on him. Sometimes she wishes she did more to bring him into their family, offered to help with any of those things that scared her too much to do herself.

Sometimes she wondered if Dustin would ever resent her for it. If he didn’t already.

But then one night, Dustin was out way past curfew, without calling. Karen and Sue couldn’t find their boys either, so the three of them ran up to the station. Ms. Flo, the angel, called the chief himself immediately and gave them a spot in the waiting room.

An hour or so later, the chief showed up with all three boys in tow.

They were all grounded, no question, but before she and Dusty started heading home, he begged her for five minutes to talk with his friend in the chief's car. She relented, and Dustin ran to the passenger seat of the car, where a teen boy was leaning on the door and resting his eyes.

Dusty opened the door and the boy nearly fell out of the car, followed by a very loud “Henderson!” that made her chuckle.

Hopper said it was the Harrington’s son, and his next stop would be taking the kid to Hawkins General Hospital for ‘a concussion and a half’.

They both had to get going, and despite his anger earlier, Harrington Jr. said goodbye with a smile and a ruffle of Dustin’s cap. And when Dusty hopped into the front seat with stars in his eyes and the energy of a successful campaign, he talked about Steve Harrington.

Steve was awesome. Steve was like the tank their party needed. Steve was a badass until he got his ass kicked, which apparently wasn’t even fair anyway, because Steve would have totally won if Bobby? Billy? Was playing fair. Steve was strong, Steve was cool, Steve told him how to do his hair, of all things, which was also apparently a secret. Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.

She had to be wary, just a little, because that was her job. But even more than that, she wanted to be hopeful.

So the next day, when Dustin asked if he could bike to the hospital to check on Steve, even though he was grounded, she decided to make an exception, and they both took the car.

Hopper’s car was still camped out in the parking lot, but before she could look for the right cars around, Dustin dashed again to Steve’s room, almost slamming the door open.

Dustin jumped on the bed before Steve could get a word in, let alone sit up to greet them, but the wide, if a bit confused, smile said it all.

Hopper offered the chair next to him for her to take a seat, and he filled her in properly on everything that happened. Most of the story was a better rehash of Dustin’s accounts with those in-betweens better filled, but the one thing that stayed perfectly consistent was Steve.

A new girl’s step brother got too rough with Sue's boy, Steve stepped in and started a regular fight, then step-brother grabbed a dinner plate and ended it. Step brother apparently fled after Steve wouldn’t get up, and the kids looked after him until Hop could get there. All four of them were worried, but Dustin by far the most.

She looked back to her boy, trying to get his hat back from Steve who held it high above their heads. Dustin stood to grab it, and Steve clearly planned on throwing it before Dustin managed to snatch it and punch him in the arm with a victorious yell.

She couldn’t help but smile. Couldn’t help but let them stay until Steve was discharged with a stack of paper and a call home to make sure he wouldn’t be alone. Couldn’t help but leave an open invite to their home, though ideally after Dustin’s grounding was over.

After a few weeks, he joined them for dinner, and never asked why they had to hunt for a third chair to the table.

And another few weeks after that, Steve stopped by to drive Dusty to the Snowball, coming inside because Dustin can’t get his hair just right.

And a month later, when he joined them for Christmas, Claudia could be comfortable in her hope. She could think that, at least going forward, Dusty would have everything he needed.

[womenwwe]

After thwarting a surprise attack by Ms. Money in the Bank Tiffany Stratton, Bayley turned back Nia Jax’s assault by drilling her with the Money in the Bank briefcase ahead of their WWE Women’s Title Match at WWE Bad Blood.

[reasonsforhope]

Non-paywall version here.

"When Arley Gill, head of Grenada’s National Reparations Committee, envisioned his work seeking repair for centuries of enslavement on the Caribbean island, one thing was certain: It was going to be a long slog.

But just two years since its founding, the task force is fielding calls from individuals around the world looking to make amends for ancestors who benefited from enslavement in Grenada. 

“If you had told us this would be happening, we wouldn’t have believed you,” Mr. Gill says, crediting a burgeoning movement of descendants of enslavers getting wise to their family’s history and taking action. 

In Grenada’s case, the momentum began with a public apology made by former BBC journalist Laura Trevelyan and her family in February at a ceremony on the island. They apologized for their forebears’ enslavement of people in Grenada and their enrichment from it, pledging an initial contribution of £100,000 ($130,000) toward education on the island.

“She opened the doors for people to feel comfortable” coming forward, says Mr. Gill.

In April [2023], Ms. Trevelyan and journalist Alex Renton co-founded an organization called Heirs of Slavery. Its eight British members have ancestors who benefited financially from slavery in various ways...

Heirs of Slavery says wealth and privilege trickle down through generations, and that there are possibly millions of Britons whose lives were touched by money generated from enslavement. 

The group aims to amplify the voices of those already calling for reparations, like Caribbean governments. And it supports organizations working to tackle the modern-day consequences of slavery, both in the United Kingdom and abroad, from racism to health care inequities. But it’s also setting an example for others, drafting a road map of reparative justice for enslavement – at the individual level...

“Shining a light is always a good idea,” says Mr. Renton, who published a book in 2021 about his family’s ties to slavery, donating the proceeds to a handful of nongovernmental organizations in the Caribbean and England. “You don’t have to feel guilt about it; you can’t change the past,” he says, paraphrasing Sir Geoff Palmer, a Scottish Jamaican scholar. “But we should feel ashamed that up to this point we’ve done nothing about the consequences” of slavery.

Start anywhere

Most Africans trafficked to the Americas and Caribbean during the trans-Atlantic slave trade ended up in the West Indies. The wealth generated there through unpaid, brutal, forced labor funded much of Europe’s Industrial Revolution and bolstered churches, banks, and educational institutions. When slavery was abolished in British territories in 1833, the government took out a loan to compensate enslavers for their lost “property.” The government only finished paying off that debt in 2015. 

The family of David Lascelles, the 8th Earl of Harewood, for example, received more than £26,000 from the British government after abolition in compensation for nearly 1,300 lives, while “the enslaved people were given nothing,” Mr. Lascelles says. He joined Heirs of Slavery upon its founding, eager to collaborate with peers doing work he’s been focused on for decades.

“People like us have, historically, kept quiet about what our ancestors did. We believe the time has come to face up to what happened, to acknowledge the ongoing repercussions of this human tragedy, and support the existing movements to discuss repair and reconciliation,” reads the group’s webpage.

For Ms. Trevelyan, that meant a very public apology – and resigning from journalism to dedicate herself to activism...

For Mr. Lascelles, a second cousin of King Charles, making repairs included in 2014 handing over digitized copies of slavery-related documents discovered in the basement of the Downton Abbey-esque Harewood House to the National Archives in Barbados, where much of his family’s wealth originated during enslavement. 

“What can we do that is actually useful and wanted – not to solve our own conscience?” he says he asks himself...

“Listen and learn”

...The group is planning a conference this fall that will bring together families that benefited from the trans-Atlantic slave trade along with representatives from Caribbean governments and Black Europeans advocating for reparations. In the meantime, members are meeting with local advocacy groups to better understand what they want – and how Heirs of Slavery might assist.

At a recent meeting, “there was one man who said he wanted to hear what we had to say, but said he saw us as a distraction. And I understand that,” says Mr. Renton. “Maximum humility is necessary on our part. We are here to listen and learn, not try to take the lead and be the boss.”

Mr. Renton’s family has made donations to youth development and educational organizations, but he doesn’t see it as compensation. “I see this as work of repair. If I sold everything I own, I couldn’t begin to compensate for the lives my ancestors destroyed,” he says."

-via The Christian Science Monitor, August 1, 2023

Note: I know the source name probably inspires skepticism for a lot of people (fairly), but they're actually considered a very reliable and credible publication in both accuracy and lack of bias.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Talks with Brothers

Author's note: More of Petras in Husbandry, Divergence AU. Thank you to @kit-williams, for letting me borrow Arnault. :)

Summary: Arnault finds out about the suspiciously accurate Serf’s outfit and gets the details out of Petras on who/how/where he got it. Petras takes his first tailoring commission, among other things.

Warning: Let me know if I need to add anything

Past =-= Next

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Petras scowls at Arnault, who’s leaning in the entryway of the home he shares with his Bonded, and Arnault drawls out leadingly, “So…”

“Was?” He growls out scowling at Arnault. 

Petras had been forced to stop making another lovely gift for his Bonded because Arnault had randomly sent him a message saying that he was going to be stopping by. He’d sworn at his vox device before responding and not-stomping his way out to the living room begrudgingly let Arnault in.

“My Angela and Roland’s Backerin  were speaking with your Bonded recently,” Arnault says lightly, “She was wearing a Concubina Serf’s outfit.”

“... And what if it?” Petras asks.

“Where’d you get such an accurate re-creation of it?” Arnault asks, almost vibrating with how intense his curiosity and need to know.

“Why do you want to know?” Petras grumbles squinting suspiciously at Arnault. 

“Because, I want to commission and buy und outfit like that for my darling Angela.” Arnault replies, “I’m willing to pay a lot for the work. The materials are good quality und the outfit is durable, comfortable and could be used more than once.”

“I see,” Petras says, feeling a bit flattered and still suspicious.

“Please give me the address of the tailor- likey a brother or cousin from either mine or your Era, or somewhere inbetween to get it so period accurate,” Arnault continues speaking.

“... If I tell you who was the tailor,” Petras says, “You will keep your mouth shut about it, Ja?”

“Of course,” Arnault replies.

Petras squints at Arnault for a few moments before taking in a deep breath through his nose, “I was the one to make that outfit for my beloved.”

He crosses his arms and almost glares at Arnault, daring him to say something about it. Arnault pauses, and seems to be calculating something and The Emperor’s Champion asks, “Can I commission you for a Concubina Serf’s outfit?”

“I will need her exact measurements,” Petras says, “Und- if it doesn’t quite fit, I will have to have her come here to adjust the fitting of it. I am not going to bandy about this- this type of commission lightly to others.”

“Ja, ja,” Arnault says as he grabs a blank piece of paper and a pencil and writes his beloved Angela’s exact measurements from memory.

“Also a couple of follow up questions, before I go and make this outfit,” Petras says, “Are there kinds of clothes that she doesn’t like the feel of? What about you?”

“Nien, she can wear any kind of cloth and be content with it,” Arnault says with a shake of his head after thinking for a few moments to recall if she did or not. “I will pay you $6,000 for the outfit, half now, and half later.”

“Und you carry that amount of cash with you?” Petras says incredulously.

“Of course not!” Arnault says, “There is an… it’s called und ‘App’ for banking, I can wire you the money if we follow the process for it.”

“Fine,” Petras says with a grunt, he was also running low on money. While he worked semi-frequently at the Loyalist base as a Chaplain, his hours were odd, as he was not allowed to work certain shifts, likely due to those damned Primaris Marines. He got a small commission from the base. 

Another issue he had at that base is he is only earning a pittance of what he should earn as an Honorable Chaplain Captain, because of that damned near snake-like Ultramarine Apothecary Zariel.

Who had trapped him in his office and revealed the fact that the Apothecary had noticed and had video proof of Petras stealing from the medical store rooms, among other easily carriable valuables when ever he passed through the area (and needed some extra stuff to pay for The Excessive Delights). 

Not that the Damned Zariel knew about his deal with Zaarius. He was having half of his pay go to the ‘back taxes’ he owes for the theft of supplies. Also- in exchange for agreeing to certain terms and conditions, Zariel is willing to not Report this to higher command.

If Petras didn’t know better, he’d think that the damned Ultramarine Apothecary was actually a fuckign Hydra hiding as a damned Ultramarine. But- he hadn’t

But if he can do this tailoring commission well, perhaps he can get Arnault to buy more perverted clothing gifts for his Bonded. But that would be a later thing. Also- with that kind of cash he can pay for the Excessive Delights.

He hasn’t stolen from the Loyalist Bases nearby since he had more or less been forced to stay near Gannet Point because his beloved Bonded Whore did not want to travel around Ancient Terra.

Arnault flounces off and he heads back to the room and looks over the cloth that he’s got and how much he’ll need for the Commission and sighs to himself. He gets a chime on his phone- the money has gone through and he’s three thousand dollars richer.

Petras heads to the local shops for cloth and ribbon and what not, and notices Zaarius nearby. The Chaos Whore notices him and frowns at him, and heads over to where he is, “Hello Slaneshi Whore.”

“Petras- charming as ever,” Zaarius says mildly sarcastically, “I have noticed that you’ve remained near Gannet Point a lot longer than normal, any reasons why?”

“... I have an Intense Bond,” Petras grunts, “Just snap bonded, tried to leave, and nearly died, my Crusade dragged me back here and I… have been getting to know my Bonded.”

“Oh- congrats on getting Bonded!” Zaarius says blinking rapidly, but giving him a genuine smile at the news, also looking slightly relieved, for some reason.

Petras grunts a little as the Slanneshi whore flounces off to do, whatever the fuck it is he was doing before. He has grown to care for his Bonded Very Much- but if he had a way where he could have his Bonded and Zaarius service his cock.

Hrm. He thinks of cold showers and other displeasing things as he notices that his little sword was perking up at the thoughts that he’d had. Fucking Slanneshi Whore- how dare that Zaarius make him think of such lurid things in public.

Petras buys what he needs and heads back to his home with Beloved Bonded Whore and starts the commission. Carefully measuring, cutting and sewing Since he didn’t have work on The Base, he’s able to get the commission done surprisingly quickly.

He double checks that it’s fully completed and that it’s ready. He wraps it up in some of the left over tissue paper and a brown paper bag that he’d used to drag the cloth from the store into the home.

Petras sends a vox message to Arnault, [The commission is done. Pick it up before my Beloved comes off work. She finishes work and comes home in two hours.]

[I will be over at your place in half an hour.] Is Arnault’s prompt response.

[Excellent.] Petras retorts.

Almost half an hour later he hears a knock on the front door and he opens it and nods to Arnault and hands over the brown paper bag. “It’s done. Have her test fit it- and let me know if adjustments need to be made.”

“Danke bruder,” Arnault says, and taps on his Astarte’s sized device and Petras gets a ping on it-  the other half of the payment has gone through. “I’ll let you know if any adjustments are needed after I have her take it for a test run.”

“You’re welcome, bruder.” Petras says. “You came earlier than I thought you would.”

“Why does that bother you?” Arnault asks.

“I have a meeting with someone else soon.” Petras says casually as he waves a hand off, “no one that you know, at least I don’t think that you do.”

“Oh?” Arnault asks, suddenly curious, despite not wanting to be near Petras all that much.

“Ja- some of my Crusade are visiting,” Petras says as he locks the door behind him as he heads off- not quite realizing that Arnault is following after him.

“You hypocrite,” Arnault says.

“Was?” Petras says with a scowl, “do you mean by that?”

“You excommunicated me und Roland for accepting our Bonds!” Arnault flares, “And yet- you are not from your Crusade.”

“There are more reasons as to why you were Excommunicated,” Petras reminds the other, “Those books are another part of it.”

“Roland refused to abandon me or his Bond,” Arnault says hotly, “And -”

He cuts himself off as he sees a pair of Black Templars wander over towards them, one a Scout, another one an Apothecary, but they aren’t Black Templar’s he recognizes.

“Kestorn, Alexried,” Petras says warmly, “How have the two of you been doing?”

“We have been doing well,” Kestorn says, “Who’s this, brother?”

“This is Arnault- yes that one.” Petras says, cutting off Alexried from asking a question.

“Oh,” The younger Space Marine says quietly.

“Alexi has been doing better since he has started talking to his Bonded,” Kestorn says, watching Petras, “Even though his bond isn’t Intense, he’s doing a lot better.”

“... That is good to know.” Petras replies, ignoring the whole that Arnault is staring into the side of his head.  “I think you should be careful with the witch-bond Alexried.”

“I have been, sir, “Alexried says with a dutiful bow of his head, “They… don’t seem to be a Chaos Abomination.”

“That is good to know,” Petras says, “Perhaps one day, I could meet them.”

“... Perhaps once they are more settled,” Kestorn interjects.

“Very well,” Petras says with a shrug as he continues to walk with Kestorn and Alexried, Arnault has headed off to go find his beloved Angela and shower her with affection, attention and this wonderfully hand made gift.

Arnault really doesn’t like Petras, he’s a right shitty asshole, but it is nice getting to meet someone else who understands in ways that most do not. 

She feels the cum ooze down her front and all she does is button the blouse back up before getting pulled into his lap as he kisses the back of her head.

As he coos his tender affections to her in high gothic as her tongue feels so imperfect for him to tell her how he feels... he will have to rectify her not being able to understand his devotionals but until then he just holds her close.

You smile up at him, you can tell by the tone of his voice, which is subtly warmer and softer, that he's saying nice things about you, or something. You have been trying to learn Gothic- but languages have never been something you were good at learning.

[beardedmrbean]

A mother of eight has told of her lavish spending on a horse and breast enhancement surgery despite being on benefits.

Marie Buchan has been relying on taxpayer-funded handouts for 23 years, amounting to about £500,000.

But despite being jobless and living off of the state, the 42-year-old has been able to spend the money frivolously.

Ms Buchan, 42, who has been dubbed “The Welfare Queen”, told The Sun: “Being on benefits has never held me back from doing anything. I have had a lot of luxuries.”

The single mother, who lives in a four-bedroom house in Selly Oak, Birmingham, is among about 9.4 million people who are currently jobless, according to the Office for National Statistics. At the Labour Party conference on Tuesday, Sir Keir Starmer, the Prime Minister, vowed to “do everything we can to tackle worklessness”.

In her 23 years of claiming benefits, Ms Buchan’s annual income has fluctuated between £26,000 and £37,000.

While she admits she feels guilty for taking taxpayers’ money, she argued there was no incentive to work.

“I believe we are better off on benefits, because we get help in every area of our lives, whether that’s the rent, bringing up the kids, or bills,” she said. “You can access food banks or fuel vouchers. There’s a lot of help out there. I’ve completed six college courses on mechanics and social work, but I’m still sitting here claiming my benefits. I’ve done nothing with them. “It’s very easy to sit in the system for the rest of your life.”

In 2018, Ms Buchan caused outrage after travelling to Turkey to spend £1,500 on breast surgery.

After being met with widespread backlash, Ms Buchan insisted she had raised the money to pay for the procedure through car boot sales.

The following year it emerged that she had travelled abroad for surgery on her vagina. She again insisted she financed this from car boot sales.

“I did fly abroad to get the surgery, but it’s something I’ve come to regret,” she said. “It was all a very big mistake and it’s embarrassing for my kids.”

She faced further backlash after deciding to buy a horse with her benefits.

Aged 19, Ms Buchan gave birth to her first child Tia and entered the benefits system, giving up her career as a part-time carer.

In 2015, she appeared on This Morning and said the proposed £23,000 a year benefit cap would leave her short.

“I was on £26,000 at the time, meaning I only had £500 a week to survive on,” she said. “We are a big family, so half of it would go on our food shop alone.

“We also had the rent, the council tax and bills to worry about. The council only paid £45 per week towards rent and £16 per week towards council tax.”