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covetyou · 1 year

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the best of the world in the palm of our hands

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), pussy spanking, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (f receiving), cumplay, anal play (blink and you'll miss it), derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, joel miller is a massive slut word count: 4.9k chapter summary: You find a way to pay your fathers debts

A/N: pussy spanking! lets go! you know the old saying, open mind open legs.

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song: damage gets done by Hozier

Your dad had been rationing his pain meds for months, barely taking one every two days now that the world had gone to shit and they were so much harder to come by - and so much more expensive as a result. Lean times were made leaner still by missed shifts and slow work, which meant for even fewer pills to ration out.

Eventually, you would listen, night after night, as he groaned and writhed in pain, meds long gone. Nights like that meant another missed shift, fewer ration cards, and the ever looming threat of debtors coming to collect on what was theirs.

That was the situation that had brought you here, to his door. Desperation, and a debt needing to be paid.

Your knock on the door sounds sharp in the silence of the hallway. You're in a "nicer" part of the QZ - the apartment block cleaner and less crammed full of bodies than others. Here there are fewer people to care, fewer people to see. Fewer people to hear you scream.

The door in front of you suddenly flies open and you wretch you head around, straightening your back. You'd told yourself you'd play it cool, but already you were failing.

Joel Miller, self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer, stands before you. He's tall and broad, taking up almost the entire doorway as he rests one hand on top of the frame. He ticks one hip to the side and tucks his fingers through his belt loops.

You'd seen him from a distance, people pointing with whispers of "that's him", but never up close. Flecks of gray dance around the scruff on his jaw, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he assesses you. The firm expanse of him so much more intimidating from this distance, you square yourself before you speak.

"I -" you begin, but he immediately cuts you off.

"I don't do business in the hallway," he drawls. "This is business, right?" he quirks a dark eyebrow at you.

You nod, all words snatched from your brain. You'd never heard him before - his southern drawl sounding cocky as he sizes you up, standing meek and mild in the corridor.

"S'always business. Come in then, sweetheart," he says, barely moving his body from blocking the doorway for you to squeeze past him. You push yourself against the door frame as much as possible so you don't drag your body along his.

The living room of his apartment is bigger than the entire place you share with your father. As far as you can tell, Joel lives here alone.

The door slams shut behind you, and heavy footsteps walk past you. Joel picks up a bottle and a single glass, pouring himself two fingers of whisky before setting the bottle back down and taking a sip. You knew you would be vulnerable, coming here alone, but you hadn't taken into account feeling trapped.

"So, what y'here for?"

"M-my dad, he's -"

"I know who your dad is, sweetheart. Seen you together. He owes me. Ain't heard from him in a few weeks. I asked what you're here for, not about your dad."

"Yeah," you nod, trying to feign confidence, "Yeah well, that's why I'm here. He needs more medicine."

"What I gave him weren't medicine, it ain't fixin' shit. I gave him pain relief. That's it."

"Well, he needs more. He's out, and he's hurting, and he can't work - " you ramble, but he cuts you off again.

"Now, sweetheart," he raises a finger to stop you. "I don't see why I should be giving you, or him, anythin'. I owe you nothin', and from where I'm standing, you're the one who owes me. Two weeks worth, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You were hoping he'd make it easier than this - go easy on you because you were a girl and you were here alone. You were hoping to play on his heartstrings, but you were starting to realise that maybe he didn't have one.

His glass thunks down on the table.

He circles you like a predator circles its prey, looking you up and down, assessing for weakness. You stare straight ahead, unwavering as possible.

He stops in front of you, tall and foreboding, before tilting your chin up with a single finger.

"You got the cards for that?"

You shake your head no.

He clicks his tongue, smiles, and says, "That's a damn shame". You have a feeling he doesn't think that at all.

"Dad's been hurting too much, he can't work, we haven't been able to get the cards, I've been trying I - "

"Looks like you'll have to do then," he shrugs, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leans back against his dining table. "Show me what you can pay me with."

You'd never done this before - well, that was a bit of a lie. You'd done something like this, once, before, with someone else, someone different, someone who probably couldn't hurt you in the ways the massive figure of Joel Miller could hurt you.

You take two small steps toward him, and move to lower to your knees - you'd heard men like him accepted this mode of "payment" all the time - but he grabs your arm in one giant hand before you can make your descent.

You balk at him, "Wha - "

"I don't want a half-hearted blow job, sweetheart," he licks his lips and his thick fingers tug at the hem of your too big t-shirt. "Why don't you take this off. Show me what you can pay me with."

The implication was clear - he didn't want anything you could give him, but you had plenty he could take. Your breath hitches, but you don't let yourself hesitate for long.

Swallowing thickly, you yank your t-shirt over your head and dump it on the floor beside you in one swift action. You're painfully aware that your bra is the least flattering thing you could possibly be wearing - it's soft and old and entirely shapeless, but you weren't expecting to be stripping off for him. You shouldn't even care what he thinks of you but it'd been so long since anyone had seen your bare skin that even this twisted exchange felt like you should've made more of an effort.

You stare directly ahead, not daring to meet his eyes as heat flares in your cheeks. He stalks back to the table and picks up his whisky. You watch him raise it to his lips before he notices you looking. You haven't moved.

He's on you in an instant, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks with force as he directs your eyes to his. The heat still burns through your face, but you feel it start to snake traitorously down your spine.

"I said, show me or do you want me to fuckin' rip the rest off you."

Nodding, you scramble to remove the rest of your clothing. It's not sexy, why fucking would it be, and you fumble with the buttons on your pants longer than you'd like, but eventually you're stood entirely nude for him in his apartment.

A puff of air huffs out if his nose and his face twitches as he appraises you like some kind of show cattle. You don't know if he likes what he sees, but that traitorous drip of warmth down your spine hopes that he does. You can trick yourself into thinking it's because he might go easier on you if he likes you, but the longer you stand there under his gaze the more you don't want him to go easy on you.

"You are a pretty thing," he says, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "I think you got just the thing I need to let your dad off the hook, don't you? Might even throw something else in to sweeten the deal if you're extra good." He strokes your hair, and you try to hold back a shudder of arousal. Maybe he'll think it's fear, and maybe it is. Maybe it's both.

"How's that sound?" he prompts as he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs.

You look at his face, his eyes are dark, darker than before, the way he's looking at you makes that traitorous drip into a flood. "Okay."

He wordlessly grunts as he tugs your hair some more and pushes you toward a door on the otherside of the room, making you walk ahead of him.

Even with his hand in your hair, guiding you, your feet move of their own accord. You want to object, refuse, but you can't. You want this. You want a man like Joel - big, protective, in control - to pay you any attention. Whatever the cost.

One final nudge of your head and you stumble into the room as he releases you.

His bedroom is sparse, as expected. Interior decor went to shit with the end of the world, and Joel didn't seem like the kind of man who would've cared about that before anyway.

You stand at the foot of his bed looking down at your toes as they bunch and un-bunch in the carpet. You hear him come in and close the door. If you weren't trapped before you definitely are now. You don't look up at him, you can't, so your eyes remain fixed at your feet when his step into view.

"You ready to get on the bed for me, sweetheart?" His hand strokes gently across the swell of your breast as he talks to you. It's the first time he's really touched you and the flood down your spine has now gathered into a slick pool between your legs.

You do as you're asked sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling even smaller now as he towers over you. You could have been 8 feet tall and still felt small and vulnerable in this moment, Joel Miller cascading above you fully clothed.

A large hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle pressure pushing you to fall back to the mattress below.

"You lay back now. Relax."

You try not to scoff but you can't help it.

"Ain't goin' to hurt you. What good would that do me. I like my customers alive."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself with your back flush to the mattress, looking at him as he still hulks above you. You can do this. He'll just... take what he wants. And you'll let him. Then you'll be on your way.

He's still standing above you as he directs you. "Good girl. Now open your legs for me. Lemme see."

You take another deep breathe, hold, and exhale, opening your legs for him just a fraction.

"I'm a patient man, sweetheart, but when I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it," he growls as he kicks your legs open further. You spread them even wider, wanting to keep on his good side. You're completely exposed and bare for him now. Everything is on display and he still towers over you, looking down at your naked form on his bed.

"Fuckin' beautiful," you think you hear him mutter as he moves to a crouch between your spread thighs. You hold your breath, tensing and try not to clamp your legs shut at his inspection.

"I'm just lookin', sweetheart," Fingers rub calming circles over the softness of your thighs and your legs twitch.

"Keep your fuckin' legs spread," he says with a sharp slap to your thigh. Gasping at the shock, you push your legs to spread as wide as they can. You feel obscene, so open for him and his hand strokes the spot he'd just struck, soothing it.

You were beginning to see how this would go - do exactly as he said and he'd be gentle. Disobey, or be slow on the uptake (patient man my ass) and you'd soon feel the sting of punishment. The thought of that makes you clench around nothing, and you curse under your breath as it's surely now drawn attention to just how wet you are.

You stare up at his yellowed ceiling and hear a chuckle from between your legs - he definitely fucking knows. You don't dare to look down, you just want him to get on with it, until suddenly fingers come dangerously close to your sex and pull you apart, spreading your bare cunt even more for him.

"Well, you're a pretty little thing," he says to your pussy.

The fingers, his thumbs you realise, massage up and down the sides of you, avoiding any direct touch to your folds, but massaging the flesh in such a delicious way that you can't help but feel it right where you need it most.

Joel hums as he moves to his knees, getting closer to your spread cunt, still rubbing his thumbs up and down the sides of you, gradually moving closer and closer to the center of your sex until he's dragging the tips of both thumbs through your wetness and up to the sides of your clit.

You take another deep breath and try to muffle your whimpers with pursed lips, trying to hold back a moan.

"She's likin' that," you hear the amusement in his voice, "I wonder if she'll like this." He moves one of his slicked thumbs directly above your clit and begins to gently stroke. Your hips jerk, unsure if it's toward or away from the pressure of his thumb.

"Oh, she does," and he applies more pressure, circling torturously around your nub as his other hand continues to explore your folds in gentle strokes, parting your opening with two fingers occasionally to see the wetness gathering there, to see how ready for him you are.

"You ever touch yourself like this?" he's talking to you again now, not your cunt.

"N-no," you stutter, as his thumb keeps its languid pace on your clit.

"You don't touch yourself? Y'look well old enough to have done this before."

"No, I-I do, just... not. Not like this."

Joel hesitates for just a moment, fingers stilling, before continuing on. "You like it though." It's not a question. "Tell me how you touch yourself." That wasn't either.

"I don't - I. Fuck," you hiss. You try to relax your grip on the sheets, but his rough thumb on your clit is distractingly good. "I - rub," you pant out.

"With fingers?"

"No," you squeeze your eyes shut. You can't say you expected much from this visit, but telling a stranger how you get yourself off in the dark of the night definitely was not on your list.

"Againstapillow," you mumble, a soft moan being pulled from shortly after as he increases the frequency of his circles on your clit.

"So you're a sweet girl whose sweet pussy only knows soft things?" he hums in thought. "Anything ever been in here?" his index finger circles around your opening, slick now dribbling out of you and being spread around by his thick finger. You must glisten.

You gulp down a sigh. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"That's good," he chuckles. "Can't imagine you'd want your first to be like this. Of course a pretty little slut like you has had somethin' in here before." His finger circles more around your hole, barley dipping inside as his well practiced thumb swipes firmly over your swollen clit.

Two thick fingers suddenly plunge into your dripping cunt with ease, stretching you. You pull back with the shock, trying to shuffle up the bed and away at the sudden intrusion, pulling his fingers from you. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you down and pulling you back toward him.

"Did I say you could fuckin' move?" You shake your head. You didn't even mean to move. It felt good, it shouldn't feel fucking good, you were just surprised.

slap

You hear it before you feel it - a wide hand colliding bluntly with your exposed cunt, sending a sharp stinging, buzzing sensation straight back up your spine. You think your brain shuts off entirely for a second before you gasp for air.

"I know you wanna be good for me. You wanna do right by your sick old dad, right? Help him out of a tough spot?"

His entire palm engulfs your mound with ease, covering you completely as he massages his fingers side to side, easing the sting and jerking your clit in a way that has you rolling your hips and biting back a moan.

"Try getting away again and I'll give your worse than that," you push your pelvis toward him at his words. You really try not to be obvious in your disappointment, you want to be good, but you want it. You want worse. And you know he knows. "But be a good girl and I'll give you exactly what you want. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

Before you can answer he delivers several quick light smacks to your bare pussy. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough send the vibrations through you and straight to your struck clit. He removes his hand to look at your quickly reddening pussy before returning to smack you some more. You gasp, trying desperately to keep still and not moan at the building sensation he's pulling from you - you shouldn't be enjoying any of it at all, let alone this, but fuck you are. There's nothing violent about the way his hand is striking your naked cunt, the light slaps against you turning you on, zinging through you like a tuning fork being tapped on a hard edge.

You hear another laugh from between your legs.

"You've only been givin' it to her soft, sweetheart, when she's just crying out to have it rough."

He spanks your pussy again, this time you can't help the moan that escapes you, your back arching into his quick slap slap slap against your cunt. The speed of his palm slows, but the force increases, drawing obscene noises from you with each blow.

"Uh," the breath huffs out of you with each firm smack to your swollen cunt.

His hand pulls off of you and he spreads you wide again before a warm wet sensation draws up from your fluttering hole to your tender clit in a broad stroke. He's soothing your pussy with soft licks when he latches onto your clit and suckles gently before pulling back to look up at you.

"I like 'em pink like this," he mumbles around your clit, "You're bein' so good takin' it for me."

He's holding your thighs obscenely wide as his tongue lathes your clit, wrenching you open as you wiggle beneath him. You are so close, on the absolute precipice and moments from tipping over the edge, when he pulls from you completely, spreading your cunt open with an his thumbs for inspection once more. The man fucking loves looking at you.

"Look at her twitchin'. I think she likes being spread wide for me, look how wet she is." He dives in for another broad lick, slurping as he goes.

"It's just dripping outa you," he breathes. You feel the warm trickle of wetness drip its well worn path from your pussy and down between the cleft of your cheeks. His finger trails it, and you take in a sharp pull of air when the pad of his finger strokes your tight asshole, spreading your slick across it and causing your legs to twitch closed a fraction once again.

slap. You feel the sting and its aftershocks buzz through you before you hear it. "Keep 'em," slap, "fuckin'," slap, "open!" He soothes your pussy with his full hand again and you moan into him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Won't go there today. But don't think I'll be feelin' so generous next time." Next time. He rubs and squeezes your pussy, and you rock your hips into his palm, desperate for more anything.

"You likin' this?" he murmurs, his words almost sounds tender -

- Until another slap rings against your bare sodden skin.

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes!" you gasp out with the next spank to your oversensitive cunt. "Yes, please - I - fuck - please I need to -" slap slap slap slap

Your mind goes blank as a series of slaps are delivered straight to your pussy. A groan is pulled deep from your chest and you spread your legs more for him, pushing into his palm as it rains its gentle smacks down onto you.

"You're goin' to come, ain't you?" he growls out, his smacks getting quicker.

You nod frantically, so fucking close, you shouldn't be so close from this but you are. You're just about to beg for something more, anything more, when the smacks against your pussy get even quicker, and quicker, until he's rubbing frantically at your clit, so swollen from his attention that you practically scream at the sensitivity.

Your orgasm tears through you, drawing a deep guttural sound right from your belly. Your back arches, your dripping hole so neglected as it grips around nothing.

"Fuck," he grinds out from below you, stuffing two fingers quickly into your pussy to feel you grip around them as you rock through your orgasm. You can't see him do it, white blaring across your vision, but you hear the hiss of his breath as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

You whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, stroking himself with the slickness of you. He stands and presses himself between your legs, hot and heavy.

"You want it here?" he says, grinding the heft of his cock against your spent cunt. "'Cause you're making a mess, drippin' all over my sheets without me to plug you up." You're in a daze as you nod, still floating from the intensity of your orgasm as you stare dumbstruck at his rock hard length for the first time. It's so big.

It's too big.

"W-wait, it's too bi- "

"Fuckin' look. Watch as I fuck this into you sweetheart," he growls as he feeds the tip of his cock into you anyway, the solid width of him stretching more than you have ever been before, but your wetness letting him slide right in. He fucks the tip in and out, and you watch him do it.

In previous years you'd had nothing more than clumsy fumbles with men, some drunken, but most just uncaring one night stands with promises of more. There was never more. One way or another you were being used, but this time, and for the first time, you could call it what it was. There was no illusion of care here as Joel took what he wanted and made you watch.

And you liked that. You liked being used by him. You liked letting him do anything he wanted to you.

"I want you to watch her swallow me darlin'. Keep your eyes right there," he pushes his hips forward, the pressure of him filling you immense, and he groans as your cunt gives way to him and swallows him whole. "There she goes. Such a good little pussy for me."

"Keep lookin'," he groans again as he retreats from you only to fuck his full length back inside of you in one swift movement, "You look or I send you out of here jus' like this. See how the locals treat a naked slut in broad daylight."

Your cunt pulses with the threat, and Joel notices. He cocks his brows at you, still relentlessly fucking into you. "Oh, she likes that. You like bein' a slut, huh?"

Fuck yes, you want to scream, but instead you nod meekly, still watching him fuck you, obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again.

"Good fuckin' girl."

Never once does he lean down to steal a kiss, or swipe his tongue across your bare nipple. You're naked for him but he does nothing with it except pound into your flesh, using your cunt to get himself off. His eyes flit between where he's disappearing into you and your eyes, watching with a sneer as they roll back into your head with each knock to your cervix.

"Fuu-uuck." He's hammering into you now, hips smoothly pounding your pelvis, when he grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your side, pushing your knee up so high it's practically by your ear. He slams back into the hilt again, rocking you back as you moan out wantonly around his cock.

From this angle his cock drags across you in ways you've never felt. You'd seen trees being felled as a kid, a wedge being hammered into a cut far too small to fit. You felt like you were being split, just like those trees.

"Ah - uh, I, Joel, please, I -" tears are in your eyes from how good it feels, the dull throb of the impact into your cervix melting your insides.

Joel brings one of his legs up beside you on the bed, the other planted firmly on the floor, giving himself leverage to fuck so deep and hard into you that the air is knocked out of you for a moment. When you can finally take another breath, you're screaming for him, your pussy creaming around him from the endless pounding.

The sloppy wet sounds of your cunt accepting his battering over and over are eventually taken overby moans being ripped from your throat. His belt rattles about his waist with each smack of his hips into yours, you can feel the metal of his buckle, bitingly cold against your skin.

"That's it - fuck - you just fuckin' take - it. You take this cock." You can feel his balls draw up and his cock twitch inside you as he gets close to bursting. He fucks you relentlessly anyway, desperately holding back as long as he can, until he can hold no more.

He drags his cock sharply from your used cunt, throwing you back onto your back on his mattress. His large hand grips his cock and he jerks it over you.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah," he's practically chanting as he jerks himself, letting out a deep stuttery groan when he finally comes, spurting hot cum all over your soft thighs, belly, chest.

He doesn't aim, he doesn't care where he gets it, the action more akin to a dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory than anything else.

The only noise in the room when Joel's shoulders finally relax are your twin heavy breaths, punctuated by light whines that you just can't help. You're so overstimulated that when his hand comes down to your thigh, you don't realize that he's smearing his cum into you until he's rubbing it into your belly, spreading it across the peaks of your tits, up your neck and across your cheek.

He gives you a light tap on the face. "Look at me," he says, swiping a come coated finger across your lips. You're entirely fucked out, all you can do is look dumbly at him, totally cockdrunk.

"What do you say?"

"I... wha-..." you know what he means when he raises his eyebrows threateningly once again. "Th-thank you."

"That's right."

Suddenly he's yanking you up into a seated position and the blood rushes to your head. Another tug, the world spins, and you're on your feet, but you can barely trust your legs. He drags you from the room and before you know it your own clothes are in your arms, the remains of his come dribbling down your body.

"Get dressed," he stands with his arms crossed, looking at you, expectant.

You stare for a moment, totally lost in his dark eyes, before moving to get your clothes back on. You are still covered in his come, your pussy still buzzing from his spanking. At some point, he tucked his cock back into his pants. You didn't even notice, and you try to push down the disappointment of not getting to see it one last time.

Pulling your clothes back on with skin sticky from sweat and come isn't easy, but you eventually manage. When you stuff your feet into your shoes, he grabs you by the arm and drags you toward the door, unlatching it and pushing you toward the exit.

"I'll consider your debt paid," he murmurs into your hair from behind, pushing you out of his apartment a second later.

"Oh and, catch," he throws something to you but you miss, barely even turning in time at his words. It rattles as it hits the ground. Pills.

"Told you I'd give you something if you were good." Confirmation that you were good for him is all you need to feel another gush of wetness between your thighs. You feel like you could come again from his words and the rough feeling of your panties against your abused cunt.

"What do you say?" he asks again.

"Thank you."

He smirks before closing the door in your face.

You lick your lips as you walk away down the empty corridor tasting Joel Miller for the first time, pills in hand and debt paid.

He never even kissed you.

next part

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller/reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 1 year

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When they realised MC loved them

This popped into my head today and I just had to write it. This first part includes:

Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Barbatos and Belphie.

As always I'll add more parts if anyone wants to see them, happy reading!

Lucifer

When you tried for him. Really, truly tried your absolute best, because he needed you to.

No other reason needed, no explanation, you threw yourself at a task or problem because he needs you. Be it schoolwork or some other activity, he knows you'll give it everything you've got.

You go out of your way to make his life easier, even in the smallest of ways.

It took him forever to realise why you did it, you might even need to tell him yourself, but when he does realise that you do it for him, even when he's not around to watch, he knows he's a lost demon. Lost to his own heart, held in the hands of a human.

Mammon

When you protect him, no matter what.

You're human, in the Devildom, a place you are not equipped to survive in on your own, but for him, for your Mammon, you'll stand in front of Lucifer himself.

Even when Mammon actually brought the punishment down on himself, even if debtors come to collect, you put yourself between him and anything that threatens to touch a snowy hair on his head.

When he realises this, it actually makes him reign himself in, he doesn't want you to have to protect him, and he knows he can't stop you. He's supposed to be the one protecting you damnit!

Still...he'll cry if you put yourself in Lucifer's way again, defending his heart to your dying breath, from the Demon King if you had to.

His human...his human really thought he was worth protecting.

Leviathan

When you made time for him.

Leviathan loves spending quality time with you, be it going shopping for merch together or just sitting in his room, on separate devices, playing separate games, just...being alone together.

He finds such comfort in you being around, but he doesn't always have the courage to invite you to things.

Still, there is the weekly anime marathon you two have kept up for as long as you've had a pact with him.

One week, you were rammed with exams, special ones tailored to exchange students, and he knew you were going to be too busy, too tired, to come binge anime with him. He knew, and he understood, despite the envy and sadness curling and pooling in the pit of his stomach, he braced for you to not show up.

But you came, bags under your eyes and pumped full of caffeine, but you came.

You promised never to miss a marathon, even when you were in the human world, you watched online together.

No matter what went on in your life, no matter where you were, you made space for Levi in your life, without question, without him needing to ask.

Levi still wonders if that'll ever change, but one look in your eyes when you smile at him like he is your entire world, tells him that place in your life is his, forever.

Barbatos

When you don't shy away from his mysteries, his power.

Lucifer himself is weary of Barbatos and his room of doors to a thousand pasts and futures, but you? You see him, not the terrifying power he holds.

You seek out those nuggets of his personality hidden behind duty and time, always promising a safe haven in your company. His smile is real when you put it there, and when you do things for him, just because you can, it baffles him.

Of course he recognises the love in your eyes when you look at him, but he's got no clue what to do with it. He's done nothing to deserve that sweet affection from you, but if you insist on giving your heart to him, he'll guard it with his life.

Belphegor

When you forgave him, when you truly forgave him, not just for what he did to you, but for his prejudices, for his hatred, the ones he's carried in his heart for centuries.

He's sure that you first forgave him for his brothers' sakes, not because you actually forgave him. You loved his family by then, he could see it. You loved the Devildom, you...belonged in it.

He felt like an alien in your presence, until you hammered it home, again and again, that you did forgive him, because you found reason to love him, you found reason to curl up and nap with him, to laze around and talk about nothing for hours.

You found something in him worth loving, and he never wants to give you something to forgive him for again.

#obey me x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me leviathan #leviathan x mc #obey me leviathan x mc #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #belphegor x mc

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dark-frosted-heart · 5 months

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When the Holy Beast Falls - Azel

An “If you were lovers” story. As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

If Prince Azel and I were lovers…

Sometimes the Living God of Tanzanite would visit the befriended nation Benitoite.

On those occasions, he’d always have me go with him.

I’d never hear something cute like “I’ll miss you” from the two-faced god who apparently brought me along just to push me around.

But I know his true intentions.

Emma: Prince Azel, I’m back.

Azel: You’re late.

Emma: I brought everything you asked me to buy since you can’t go into town, so please forgive me.

Azel: That’s not the issue.

Prince Azel, who waited by the entrance, took the packages from me.

However, it didn’t seem like he was considering the packages and studied me.

Emma: …Are you hurt?

Azel: You can see I’m not.

Emma: Then what is it?

Azel: You’ve kept me waiting because you’ve been having fun in town.

Emma: H-how did you know? Is this God’s power—

Azel: It’s all over your face.

(I guess I was grinning)

At my honest confession, Prince Azel pinched my cheek.

Azel: You got some nerve. I’ve been waiting for you to come back—

Emma: You’ve been waiting? For me?

Azel: …Don’t get the wrong idea. I asked you to get something for me.

Emma: That’s too bad. I thought if you were waiting for me, I’d rush back the next time.

Azel: Hurry back even if I’m not waiting. That’s a debtor’s responsibility. I’ll add this late fee to your debt.

Emma: Is that okay? The more debt you add, the more you won’t be able to let me go.

Azel: …You’re getting defiant.

(You’re so awkward, truly)

With a grim look on his face, Prince Azel turned his back on me and placed items he had me get on the table.

He went to check its contents, but his hand immediately stopped.

Azel: Emma…What is this?

Emma: It’s cute, isn’t it? I made a stop along the way to buy it.

Prince Azel held Benitoite’s popular “Living God doll” in his trembling hands.

It was a small doll in Prince Azel’s likeness that was said to bring many blessings, including luck with money, love, health, etc.

(It took me a while to buy it since there as a line)

Before he could throw it against the wall, I snatched the doll from Prince Azel’s hands and held it dearly.

Emma: I bought this separately from the money you gave me. I’m not giving it to you.

Azel: Get rid of things that aren’t wanted or needed.

Emma: I refuse. He’s cute, isn’t he?

Azel: Cute?! I think you mean repulsive.

I moved the doll out of Prince Azel’s reach as he tried to steal it back and stepped away from him.

Emma: Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.

Azel: No one’s telling you to take care of it. I'm telling you to throw it away.

Emma: Throw away my beloved Prince Azel? I could never.

Azel [polite]: …I see, I see. Even with the real God present, you chose the doll and casted me aside. How cruel…This is a slight toward God. This blasphemy deserves divine punishment.

(Ah—)

Prince Azel deliberately covered his face with his hands and began sobbing.

I knew it was a trap, but it hurt my conscience to ignore him.

Emma: That’s not it. However, with this doll, I can be with Prince Azel even when I’m out running errands. It’s my way of showing how much I love you.

The instant I approached the god to butter him up, Prince Azel stopped his crocodile tears, took the doll from me, and tossed it into some corner of the room.

Emma: Ah! That’s cruel—Mn?!

My eyes widened when he stopped my protest with a kiss.

Azel: Who’s the cruel one here? Cheater.

Emma: …Even though it’s a puppet of you.

Azel: If you want my blessings so much, I’ll give it to you. You’ll have to deal with it.

A large hand grabbed my chin and our lips met again.

The kisses of a holy, unrelated god were always so greedy, greedily exploring deep inside that it made you feel like you were going to fall.

(Why is every kiss so lewd…)

Even when I nipped his lip to tell him he was going too far, the two-faced god didn’t stop and instead started tickling my ear.

Emma: Mm…Mmm!

Azel: Don’t need the doll anymore? That’s wonderful.

Emma: Wro…ah

The fingers that were tickling my ear slid down my neck and under the collar of my blouse.

I hastily grabbed the hand that was going to defile me and looked into his mysterious, starry eyes.

Emma: I can’t return to my room anymore, can I?

Azel [polite]: A message from God. You should not be alone tonight for there are bad omens.

Emma: …A lot of good things happened in town though?

Azel [polite]: It will happen, and it will surely be a misfortune.

Emma: Specifically…

Azel [polite]: Divination is an ambiguous thing. You won’t know until it happens.

Emma: Then let’s test out if Prince Azel’s divination is really correct.

Azel: Why would you do that? Are you stupid?

He cupped my cheeks and squished them.

Emma: Because lately, you’ve been saying the same thing. That when I’m alone, misfortune, bad luck, or a disaster will happen to me… So I thought I’d try it out just once.

Azel: Being fearless isn’t good. God’s words are absolute, so you must heed His warnings.

Emma: I get it Prince Azel. You just really want us to be together, don’t you?

Azel: ……I didn’t say that.

(You’re so easy to read)

Azel: I don’t care if you’re here or not. I prefer being alone.

Emma: Then—

When I tried to shake his hands off and turn away, he hugged me tight.

Azel: You don’t believe in God’s good will?

Emma: You just need to be honest and say that you want me with you.

Azel: Aren’t you the one that wants to be with me?

Emma: If I’m the only one that wants this, then I’ll only bother you so I’ll head back to my room—

Azel: Try to go back if you can.

(Ugh…He’s so strong that I can’t shake him off!)

Even after saying all this, Prince Azel still won’t admit it.

But when I turned to look at him, we kissed for a short moment.

Azel: Ah…

It seemed like he didn’t mean to and his brows furrowed.

(He never wants to admit it, but…)

Emma: You truly do love me, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don’t be so conceited.

A blush spread across his grim face.

(...God’s blessing was real)

(Because it’s possible to make Prince Azel look like this)

With a dramatic sigh, Prince Azel rested his forehead on my shoulder.

Azel: What am I even doing?

Emma: It's love.

Azel: No. I’m in no way in love with you. Damn it…

(There’s still a long way to go, but I’ll definitely get it out of him one day)

(An “I love you” from Prince Azel)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #azel radwan #ikepri azel

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gepgep2 · 12 days

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Put another way, this means that the profitability of America's banks is based on knowingly creating rules so complicated that they know a significant portion of their customers won't to be able to follow them—and then punishing those customers for failing to do so.

And this pattern can be observed down the line. Even our higher education system now operates largely as an engine for trapping students in permanent debt, and much of the profits to be extracted from student debtors comes from penalizing them for missed payments, postponements and defaults.

Almost every institution in America—from our corporations to our schools, hospitals, and civic authorities—now seems to operate largely as an engine for extracting revenue, by imposing ever more complex sets of rules that are designed to be broken. And these rules are almost invariably enforced on a sliding scale: ever-so-gently on the rich and powerful (think of what happens to those banks when they themselves break the law), but with absolute Draconian harshness on the poorest and most vulnerable. As a result, the wealthiest Americans gain their wealth, increasingly, not from making or selling anything, but from coming up with ever-more creative ways to make us feel like criminals.

https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/david-graeber-ferguson-and-the-criminalization-of-american-life

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dottiro · 22 days

Text

Power Struggle

Unreliable summary: Pantalone is a Svengali figure. He dominates reader's life in the most backhanded and subtle ways without trying to be subtle. // Pantalone consumes everything he touches; he is a black hole with no affection but only the need for possession. Warnings: Yandere, unhealthy relationships, power abuse, toxicity, manipulation Note: We're breaking free from the rewrites with this one >:3

Business is profitable for any banker in the current season. Every year, a few days after New Year's celebrations, people can’t resist the urge to take loans and make uncalculated decisions to achieve the goals they have set for the year.

For as long as you have known Pantalone, he’s been unavailable until the season of new debtors passes,

—every year, except this one.

Despite being overworked and underslept, tonight, he has decided to make time for you.

Pantalone’s voice is less sharp than usual. It’s the only way you can pick up on his exhaustion. Otherwise, his outfit is as clean as his calm expression is; a neverending masquerade where he hides his real thoughts and self.

Yet, despite his exhaustion, he talks as if he hadn’t been able to in weeks. And because Pantalone tends to monologue, you naturally take on the role of dutiful listener.

“I’ve mentioned this in our last meeting, but there is an upcoming party. One that promises to be quite bothersome. I wish I could take you for it’d bring me a sliver of joy, alas, bringing a commoner would be an insult. Not that I’d think that. You do know I adore you, right? Either way, you wouldn’t be interested in coming. Politics don’t suit you. You’re too meek.”

The words fly past his teeth without any guard. Part of you takes offence, yet another part can’t be bothered to care.

Today, it’s much easier to let everything drift by. The promise of the clouds in the air and the lingering freedom they bring guide you towards a new future. Your eyes drift lower out of the window. Many tall and imposing buildings flash by as the car drives forward. Those, too, are but a nuisance.

You wonder…

Will Pantalone accept your choices when you share them tonight?

He has always been peculiar and too specific with how he prefers things.

Would he judge your future?

In the background, you hear more words escape his lips. You enjoy the sound of it.

Pantalone’s voice has always been soft. He despises it, but you like how it lingers over your thoughts and blocks out your worries.

It’s a reminder of his presence and how he keeps you close to him—grounded.

“—one of the maids working in my mansion seemed to take offence when I arrived at my own home unannounced. People truly are despicable. No matter how many chances you give them, they can’t help but disappoint.”

More words, yet the meaning behind them gets lost the more he talks.

Normally you’d listen closer, forcing yourself to stay close to his thoughts.

Right now, you’re unable to blame your distraction on the long words he uses.

Today, something bigger has consumed your mind.

“Y/n?”

Pantalone calls out to you.

Only after he calls out your name you notice that the car has stopped at his chosen destination. Quickly, you glance through the dark-tinted window separating the car from the outside world. You catch grand doors under a lit-up sign; ‘Northland’s Delight’.

How did you miss your arrival?

‘Northland’s Delight’...

—why does the name spark familiarity?

Despite you being the one who had not-so-subtly dropped hints about wanting to meet up with him, Pantalone took the initiative to pick a date, time, and place to meet, and perhaps that’s where recognition falls. Surely he’s mentioned the name somewhere in your prior conversations. You likely forgot about it.

As sudden as your arrival had been, Pantalone appears in your vision, blocking the sight of the restaurant from your eyes. Instinctively your hand reaches for the seat next to you, only to find it empty.

You frown. He’s not there.

Are you really that out of it?

Dazed, you stare as Pantalone opens the door for you, something he insists on doing whenever you ride with him. A smile is on his face when he looks down at your sitting form. You notice how his figure casts a shadow over you and consumes your entire line of sight.

“You are preoccupied today.” Pantalone doesn’t sound angry, but his words make you feel nervous. You crane your neck upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of his expression and thoughts. “Am I supposed to be offended?”

His hand outstretches in front of you. Without a second of delay, you reach for the grasp of his cold leather gloves.

You’ll have to mind your daydreaming from this point forward. It’d be rude of you to be distracted when he had cleared his busy schedule in favour of you.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my intention to be distracted. Honestly, I am more excited for tonight than you could be.”

There is a small interruption between your sentences as he brings you up on your feet and out of the car.

“I didn’t expect that you’d take time off for me. I knew you would be busy and I didn’t want to cause you trouble,” you admit, though, your nerves are only partially to blame on him clearing his schedule for something less important—like yourself.

His eyes linger on your figure as he smiles wider. “An evening spent with you is an investment worth making. Though, I hope you’ll make it worth my time.”

His voice is laced with enough joy to make it sound like a tease. In the end, you can’t fight the smile forming on your face as his thumb caresses the top of your palm.

Feeling more at ease, you move to link your arm with his non-dominant one, knowing he’d shake you off if you tried to go for the other side.

Pantalone has always been a touchy man, even when you first met him. If your arm wasn’t around his, he’d put his hand on the small of your back or your shoulder. It seemed like he preferred to be as close as possible, never letting you escape his presence.

And while you hadn’t seen him around other people, you assumed it had to be a habit of his.

Over time, you shrugged the action off as noble formalities and offered your arm without him needing to ask.

Pantalone tugs you closer with his arm. By his side, you smell the rich perfume he’d put on. His other hand moves to your arm, gently patting it as he leads you forward.

When you walk up the stairs leading to Northland’s Delight, you notice two bulky men standing on either side of the grand doors. By the time you’ve reached the small staircase leading up to the entrance, they’ve moved to open them, inviting you into the warm interior of the luxurious place.

You can’t help your visible awe as you take in the entrance hall of Northland’s Delight.

The first thing your mind catches is the almost overwhelming grandeur of the interior. The entrance hall is expansive. Broad, high ceilings adorned with exquisite chandeliers cast a warm and inviting glow throughout the room and decorate the reflective floor with shimmers from their crystals.

Your eyes dart over to the walls, which are decorated with wallpapers complimenting the royal theme of the restaurant. As you look closer, you notice their intricate designs drawn with subtle colours. Small curls and elegant shapes move from the ground to the nooks and crannies, filling the entire space with luxury.

As your feet step on top of the red carpet that drags into another room, you see yet another space—one more grand than the current.

With only a glance, you can captivate its carefully arranged seating; noticing that it must be the main dining room. Further, thick velvet curtains create a sense of privacy for the patrons within the room. Another chandelier hangs above the people, and each table is decorated with plates that resemble art rather than food.

You feel out of place amidst everything, but this certainly is a place Pantalone would dine at.

Distracted by the luxury, you only notice the woman who has approached you when she pulls out a standard greeting. Dressed in deep reds, golds, and browns—similar to the interior—the hostess of tonight introduces herself to Pantalone.

While the ‘good evening’ and ‘I hope your travels were safe and without trouble’ passes, your thick winter coats are taken by other personnel.

Through it all, you continue to hold Pantalone’s arm.

Between all the things overwhelming you, you realise that the hostess had addressed your company as if she recognised him. You silently note that Pantalone must come here often on business dinners, too.

“We reserved your usual seat, my Lord.” The woman informs him.

Pantalone doesn’t do more beyond nodding his head subtly.

“Please follow me, my Lord.” The hostess takes a short bow before she leads the two of you out of the entrance hall and into the main scene.

Being led deeper into the building, previous distant conversations become clear. As you move in closer, your eyes instinctively move closer to the rich joy of the others.

From what you can see, tables are spread wide and far enough to grant each patron a feeling of seclusion yet a sense of fullness and intimacy from the decor that fills the empty spaces. From every side, laughter chimes like a song and an irresistible warmth hangs over the room.

You are certain; this is a place for get-togethers, somewhere no business is dealt—safe for the exchange of smiles.

Here, lovers from rich families are able to retreat. They can enjoy themselves from the prying eyes of the public or their families.

Not a single person looks out of place.

As you come close, the hostess suddenly changes enroute, instead heading to the stairs.

You are led to the first floor, and almost instantly as you step up, the atmosphere changes.

A part of you should’ve known today wouldn’t be the day where Pantalone would mingle with others. He is paranoid to the point where he believes any person is out for his demise.

With this, you guess that he must’ve hired a private room for tonight.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, the laughter has become a background noise again. Then, it takes a few more steps before you arrive at tonight’s dining room, which is basically a large closed-off room with a single table in the middle.

You watch the candle that’s been lit and placed on top of the round table. It is the only source of warmth, much unlike the space below you.

Pantalone pulls one of the chairs back and helps you get settled into the lush, upholstered seating before he pulls out the other chair for himself.

When you’re both ready, the hostess has been replaced by a common waiter and Pantalone awakens the evening by ordering a bottle of his favourite wine—something that’s become a routine. Always insisting on pouring your glass without consent or questions.

In repressed silence, you let him.

“How was your day, darling?” Pantalone’s voice is relaxed. Unlike before in the car, he is now fully alone with you. Thus, he feels some sense of safety in exposing the barest of his vulnerability.

Crossing one leg over another while straightening your back, you ineptly mirror his relaxed but undoubtedly composed (if not perfect) posture.

You lower your head.

Truth be told, you’ll always feel out of place in these affluent settings.

Growing up in the middle-to-low class has made you feel guilty whenever Pantalone brings you luxurious places. You know that you can never repay him, but you also know that if you were to share your discomfort he wouldn’t bend.

Pantalone would never lower himself to anything but opulence, so he forces you to become one with him instead. He lifts you up in status, merging you into his ideals as he takes you wherever he wishes to go.

Your lips find the rim of the wine glass and you take a sip as you try to relax your nerves.

When you set it down on the table again, you look up at Pantalone, who is already looking at you, waiting for an answer.

A slight flush forms on your cheekbones under the weight of his golden gaze.

“It’s been nearly two months since I’ve last seen you. I know you’ve been busy, and you still are, but I have something important I’ve been working on too. Ever since the moment you told me about tonight’s plans, I’ve been excited to share them. But, perhaps, a bit nervous too.”

While a smile forms on your face, Pantalone’s dips. It is for only a second, but you swear you saw his lips part and the uncertain furrowing of his eyebrows.

He sits up straighter, uncertain in only the seconds before he speaks.

“Hmm. It is nearly impossible for someone to bring me something I don't already possess. You almost make me curious for this ‘exciting news’.”

Is he mocking you?

You blame it on ignorance.

“I would hope so. Though…” You fiddle with the lace ends of the cloth that spread over the table.

In case your news is unwelcome, you’d like to delay the moment for as long as possible. If it goes well, you can ask him to stay, if not, you can simply leave by the end of the night.

“—is it alright if I tell you at the end of dinner?”

The way your voice came up at the end of your sentence made it sound as if you unconsciously sought approval. It had made it seem like a question when you had already made up your mind.

Lucky for you, Pantalone doesn't seem particularly bothered by what you had to tell.

“Of course, my dear.”

His smile is back on his face and he falls back to his act of casualty, being quick to brush you off as he resumes his monologue.

And as the night continues, the space you occupy becomes smaller.

The previous distance and coldness in the room are filled by his endless chatter, being further accompanied by gentle touches as he compels to invade your space. His actions make any stretch between you null.

Soon, hours have passed, and before you know it, Pantalone has ordered dessert. One for you, none for him. A treat, or so he’d say.

You attempt to ease into the topic you want to talk about.

“Pantalone,” you hesitate.

With a slight delay, he answers your call with a casual tilt of his head as he intertwines his hands in front of his chest.

“Remember when we first met?”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “I recall correctly, you were but a freshly graduated student with more debt than one could pay off in a lifetime. More importantly, you were serving me in a restaurant similar to this. Your uniform was always stained from your hard work.”

You make a bow, as is customary before introducing yourself.

Tonight’s patrons are ‘VIPs amongst VIPs’—as had your boss mentioned before. Initially, you weren’t supposed to serve them. Your task was menial, greeting the people at the entrance hall and taking their cloaks.

It was supposed to be that easy, but…

“Y/n…” The man with hair as dark as ink echoes your name. While you avoid staring as much as possible, you catch his eyes darting over your figure; from your face to your neck, down, and up again.

He is gorgeous…

The man speaks again. His voice is gentle and smooth, yet he talks with authority and control—as if he owns the place and its people. “Are you serving any tables tonight?”

“No sir.”

“Delightful. Then, tonight, I’d like you to serve me.”

It turns out he needs only a single word to change the entire plan for that evening.

One word, and he changes everything.

At first sight, Pantalone had taken a liking to you.

“You graduated from one of the most respected universities in Snezhnaya, yet someone like you ends up in a restaurant. Truly a pity.”

“...”

“If and when the opportunity arises, would you be willing to change your predicament?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“From what I see; you either take fate in your hands and bend it to your favour—taking every opportunity for yourself, or you stay in your current position—surviving, but never more than that.”

“I think anyone would want to take control of their fate.”

“In that case,” he gestures to the other end of his table in the private room. “Convince me to hire you.”

Meeting him had changed your life.

After graduating you fell into an impossible situation. While months passed of you applying anywhere and everywhere, you were unable to secure a job. Before you knew it, you got in trouble with debt collectors trying to collect what debt you had accumulated during your academic years.

To keep your life from crumbling apart, you worked multiple low-wage jobs that you were overqualified for.

Then, during that fateful evening of you acting as his server, Pantalone had invited you to sit with him. He ate, and you promoted yourself and your qualities. Supposedly, he liked your polite attitude or unwavering patience for his endless questions, because by the end of that night, he offered a proposition.

You could either continue to work multiple low-wage income jobs, or you could work for him.

As the night came to a close, and he outstretched his hand to you one final time, he had left with you by his side.

You haven’t looked back since, and with all in consideration, it is a happy memory. Since that moment, things have gone uphill. Your debt has been cleared; you work a job you’re qualified for; life positively challenges you, and you still talk with Pantalone.

Still.

Why does it sound like he’s pulling you down when he recalls it?

Shame settles in when you remember where you come from, then resolve seeps through as you realise he hadn’t forgotten either. Over the years you have proven yourself.

Surly, him remembering where you came from must give you credit.

You suppose… these dinners are one way of showing his affection to you, albeit it being a bit roundabout.

…

Right?

Pantalone taps one of his intertwined fingers against the knuckle of the hand it rests on. His rings and the gemstones on them shine against the candlelight.

Again, you try to get to the point, “When you had asked me about my dreams that evening, I answered: ‘I want to see the world someday’. Back then, that seemed impossible. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it past the shabby part-time jobs and my run-down apartment—”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Pantalone’s nonchalant voice drips with ego and pride when he cuts you short. “I know you are appreciative.”

Your lips purse for a second and you fiddle with your fingers below the table. “That is not what I was trying to say.”

“So, you’re not?” He raises an eyebrow, either in offence or amusement. You’re not willing to guess.

“I—…You know that is not what I meant. I am indebted to you, I know that.”

Frustration bubbles up when you see a soft smile on his face. It makes your anger feel out of place, especially considering your meeting with him was supposed to be a good memory.

The news you’re about to tell is supposed to be good news.

Are you the one in the wrong?

Pantalone relaxes by leaning back into his chair. A gentle turn of his wrist urges you to continue, despite the mixed feelings in your chest.

You sigh,

“I have the opportunity to make my dreams come true and I wanted to tell you first. I’ve finally taken fate into my own hands. I am planning to leave for Snezhnaya.”

The news falls flat. Your previous frustration at Pantalone seeming to disregard you. has made your voice devoid of joy. Only a sense of letdown remains.

Out of everyone, you felt most proud to share the news with the one who made you fight for your future.

Your fingers hover over your pocket. The business card given to you by your friend brings a sense of pride and freedom. You’ve waited all your life for this—worked day and night.

Shouldn’t Pantalone be happy?

You look up from the half-finished dessert plate.

Pantalone's face is twisted in an unusual expression. His mouth is turned in a way that looks strained and awkward. His hands are still intertwined, but the grip has strengthened. Then, as you meet his eyes, you hold your breath.

The man sitting in front of you has always had a difficult time controlling his expressions.

Though, it is obvious you’ve never seen him this apoplectic before.

Then,

—he smiles.

The room grows cold, and a sudden chilly breeze brushes against the nape of your neck, making the hairs stand up straight. That laughter… You don't know what makes your skin crawl more, the disgust on his face or that vile condescending laughter.

Shocked beyond what you know to do, you mimic him with a nervous chuckle. If you didn't know better, you would've felt like you were in danger—prey to the predator.

After a few seconds, you carefully call out to him.

“Do you feel lonely, Y/n? Is that why you’re doing this?” Pantalone’s voice is unwaveringly strong and conclusive. It feels as if your answer won't matter because he already has his truth set in mind. “Do you feel neglected by me?”

Your throat is painfully dry when you swallow. You're both thirsty for water and a way out of the current topic. When you answer him, you sound like one of tonight's waiters bending and nearly snapping to his extreme expectations. “No, sir.”

“You know that I hate when you do that.” He stands up from his chair and instantly, one of the waiters on standby comes to his side.

Pantalone’s voice is cold and distant, “We’ll be taking our leave.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The rehearsed reply falls out of the worker’s lips instantly.

The young man who was unfortunate enough to serve him tonight hurries off to, what you assume to be, the hostess, so she can let the curtains fall after the last formalities have been told.

You’re still in your seat when Pantalone walks up to your side.

From the moment you met him, he has radiated grace, kindness, and a friendly appearance. Now, he hovers over you in an authoritative, if not menacing, manner.

Your hand shakes when you move to grab his. His fingers snake over your skin, holding on to you as if you’d disappear—tightly and oppressive.

Where did tonight go wrong?

Was it the news?

…

Though… why?

…

Have you always walked on eggshells around him?

The walk out of the restaurant feels heavy and solemn. The once lively background chatter goes now unnoticed. The opening hall also appeared less warm. From the moment Pantalone set his foot onto the last step of the stair, all the workers were focused on him, but never on you or the bruise forming on your wrist as he pulled you along.

By the time you reach the car, silence chokes you.

In the absence of his usual overly-present voice, you become more aware of Pantalone’s eyes. Those orbs, usually hidden by his thick dark lashes cling onto you, possessive, owning.

You don’t recall your arrival home, for Pantalone’s grip haunts your body like a burn that’d scar.

Somewhere between your arrival and now, you had walked deeper into the space. A trial follows you. It falls onto the cold tiles leading up to the bathroom, piece by piece getting rid of the fancy clothes Pantalone had brought, forgetting the necklace he had gifted, ridding yourself of the scent he had worn.

Hot water crashes into your neck and falls onto your body as you stand in the shower. You wonder, how can the world be so deafening quiet? Droplets trail down, racing to meet the drainage below, and your only thoughts consist of wanting to do the same.

On your wrist, you see the outlines of his hand by the bruises he gifted.

Your chest hurts. Your body aches. All you can do now is rub tonight’s events off your body until your skin is red and threatens to break.

You feel disgusting.

You feel trapped.

You feel alone.

You trace the mark of Pantalone’s hand on your wrist, finding that the marks remain even as time moves on.

By now, you realise it’s impossible to fall asleep when even in your dreams you feel his presence consume your life.

Soon, sunshine creeps through the windows, failing to wake you, for you hadn’t fallen asleep in the first place.

You sit on the ground with your phone in hand. In the other, you feel the business card that’s been ripped out of yesterday’s pockets.

Around you, littered throughout the luxurious apartment, lie two packed suitcases and a trail of the belongings you hadn’t deemed important enough to bring with you.

If you could, you would've left Snezhnaya yesterday.

In the capital’s streets, you recently had the pleasure to meet a familiar face. A friend from your university had found a job and has been travelling the world, turning their business course into a travelling agency so they can sustain their life.

After catching up with you, they had offered to take you with them, for—“dreams are meant to be chased. If we can’t, what else do we live for?”

The first chime of the clock hits and you click the button on your phone, dialling the number on the business card.

The call goes through.

“Beep… beep… beep… Hi! If I am unavailable, I am most likely busy. Don’t leave a message, just call again later. Thank you!”

Voicemail.

You try again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

And again.

After failing the call a sixth time, a gloomy feeling settles in.

You weren’t keen on going to work today and hoped that solidifying your plan with your friend would give you some positivity to make it through. Recalling the events from yesterday only made it more awkward to work in Pantalone’s bank, even if you never saw him at your workplace.

In theory, you can call in sick, but that’d only lure Pantalone out more.

A sigh escapes your lips and you lift your hand to your forehead.

It’s too early. Your friend must be asleep. By the end of today, you’re certain you'll get a callback. After all, when you met, they seemed just as excited to travel with you.

Now, you only needed to hang on a while longer. Soon, you’d be gone. Gone from this feeling. Gone from the control you’ve lost since you left university. Gone—reclaiming freedom once and for all.

The only one who knew about your plans was Pantalone.

Surely, if you ignored the unsettling feeling in your stomach, today would be like any other day.

“My Lord has requested your audience.”

You recognise the chauffeur in an instant. The car parked in front of your apartment is impossible to not recognise. Pantalone is here? With two suitcases in hand, you watch the chauffeur open the back door.

Fortunately, you find the inside empty.

Your eyes move to Pantalone’s chauffeur. “Why?”

“I apologise. My Lord only ordered for me to accompany you. He did not tell me why. Please, allow me to carry your bags to the car.”

You nod, grasping the phone in your pocket tightly. Ultimately, you had neither gone to work nor called in sick. Once the sun had risen, you had made up your mind and left your home with the idea of no return.

Is Pantalone upset?

Things were left on a tense note yesterday, you wonder if he wants to talk about it. Either way, now there is no chance of avoiding him. He made certain to stress that by sending one of his personnel to fetch you.

Did he decide to let you leave on amicable terms?

The drive from your home to Pantalone’s office is long and silent. You know he only hires the most competent people, and so, you are left with only your thoughts when the chauffeur refuses to keep you company.

The outside world shifts by in a blur. Soon, you find yourself in front of a familiar business.

‘Northland Bank’.

Ah…

When you finally step into his office, you meet Pantalone.

He sits behind a grand desk. And while his office is as luxurious as you had imagined it to be, you can’t appreciate it in the moment. Comfort and status radiate from his occupational area, and even the obscure spaces such as the wooden outside of dark cabinets against the walls were engraved in details and gold.

It feels stuffy, crowded, too much.

Your eyes meet his. Pantalone’s golden irises eerily match the furniture and affluence. Even while you’re standing as he sits in his chair, you feel as if you’re below him in every way—status, power, and control.

“I assume you’ve heard about your promotion?”

Pantalone intertwines his hands in front of him.

You’re surprised to hear his usual calm and soft voice.

He does not acknowledge yesterday’s happenings.

Wait, promotion?

“...what?”

“Sit down, my dear.” He signs to the chair on the other side of his desk, facing him instead of the room. It is much smaller than his, yet it is beyond extravagance when compared to the seats you usually sit in.

For a second, you’re unsure whether to bring up yesterday or to let it go and pretend it had never happened. The latter sounds more alluring at the moment.

Pantalone continues.

“I have been searching for a new assistant since the previous one unexpectedly… quit.”

He takes a second, looking into your face patiently as he tries to fish for a reaction. The grandfather clock that ticks throughout the room feels like the last digits counting down before a bomb goes off.

He continues, “After careful consideration, I felt you were best suited for the job.”

“Thank you, sir, but—”

“Pantalone,” he corrects you.

“Yes… Pantalone,” you hesitate. “I am extremely grateful for your generous offer but I have to refuse.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles, waving you off like a fly. “You’ve worked for me as an administrator for long. I know you have the skills and rigour for the task and I certainly don’t doubt your potential under my guidance.”

His words snake out of his mouth like tiny daggers pinning you down.

“No si—Pantalone, that’s… I am thankful for your praise, but I recall mentioning my plans to travel to other nations. I-it has been a dream of mine since I was younger. Now that my debts have been repaid—I—”

“Debts repaid?”

You watch as Pantalone’s smile broadens. He gently shakes his head.

“If I recall yesterday’s happening correctly, you admitted you are indebted to me. Is that not true? If so, do you believe you are in a position to refuse me? Is this not the perfect chance to pay off your debt after all I’ve given to you?”

Your resolve waivers at his words. He is right about the first part, but you always worked for him and he paid you. As much as you feel indebted to him, it was baseless. Chains made from nothing but air.

This, everything, is a fair exchange.

When you try to interject, Pantalone returns to the paperwork on his desk.

Without a second glance, he shakes his hand into the air and disregards you with little to no more respect than he does the waiters in the restaurant—always below him, ready at his disposal with a single word.

You barely get a single word past your lips when he overtakes the conversation, turning it into a monologue in the absence of your input.

“For now, be a dear and fetch me something to drink. I’m sure the kitchen staff will help you figure out what I usually get. I’ll explain your tasks once I’m finished.”

Your eyes move over to his desk.

Your friend’s business card.

Where did he find that?

The phone in your pocket is heavier than ever. Refusing him at this point would bring you more conflict.

Your plans with your friend were still intact.

You can and will leave this nation.

You only have to remain strong for a while longer.

It takes a second, but you eventually move up from the chair. “Once I’ve brought you your drink, where can I find my desk?”

“Desk?” Through his glasses and long lashes, he looks up at you. “Do you honestly believe I’ve brought you here to do administrative work? No, your new job is to keep me company.”

When your confused expression bemuses him, he dismissively continues.

“Just sit in one of the chairs, or the couch. I don’t particularly care as long as you remain in my office. Feel free to read one of the books on the shelf. As long as you are able to put it down whenever I want you to, I’ll allow it.”

You stand still, letting the words fall over you as you grow numb.

“From now on, your job is to listen to me, understood?”

For the first time since you met him, you realise why you feel so detached from him. You’ve become so accustomed to luxury, it became hard to look past the shimmer and gold.

But now, when you look into Pantalone’s eyes, they’re worth nothing.

Once you stop idolising the gold that surround him, you find a dull and exhausting life filled with nothing but vengeance and spite.

You’re nothing but a pet to him.

You never had the chance to be anything else.

“Beep…beep…beep… you have one voicemail. Press 1 to hear it.”

BEEP.

“Hey, Y/n. Sorry, I missed your call. See— I, uh… well… I needed to leave Snezhnaya. I can’t bring you with me. So please don't try to reach me again… …stay sa—”

“End of voicemail message.”

…

“Beep… beep… beep…

Unfortunately, the number you have tried to call no longer exists. Please check the number and try again later.

Beeep—”

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡

#₊⊹ ⌞finished appointments⌝#pantalone x reader #yandere genshin x reader #pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #tw: yandere #yandere #harbinger x reader #genshin harbingers #fatui harbingers #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere pantalone x reader #fatui x reader #fatui

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angellesword · 2 months

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BAGGAGE | JJK (12)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out, hurt/comfort

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

← Previous Chapter (11) | Next Chapter (13) →

Baggage Chapter List

*****

You weren’t sure if your students prayed for your downfall after assigning them complex business cases to crack. But even if they didn't, you were starting to regret listening to Jungkook's suggestion. You missed the time when your students were your only worry. You weren’t stressed about school anymore. Unfortunately, you were experiencing frequent headaches in your business venture.

"What do you mean they won't pay?" You delegated business work to your people since you wanted experts to deal with issues you weren’t that familiar with. However, it seemed that was a regrettable decision too. Your accounts receivable manager told you the team couldn't collect your customers' debt.

"I'm sorry." The manager explained that the contract with customers was biding, so he didn't expect them to breach the terms. "They said they can't pay us on time since they're having difficulty with their operations."

"Tsk." You heard Jang Min make this sound on the other line. You were so stressed that you had to call your boyfriend and ask for business advice. As far as you know, Jang Min managed multiple lending companies. He would know what to do with delinquent debtors.

Sure enough, Jang Min rubbed his chin thoughtfully before covering his mouth with his hand. He looked as though he was deep in thought when he said, "Cолнышко мо, why don't you let my men handle those rats?"

"Rats?" Your brow knitted together as you gestured for your dejected manager to leave for a while. You were on speaker and didn't want your employees to think badly of you or Jang Min. You might be angry, but you care much about your team.

"Yeah, rats. Your debtors are filthy rats." Jang Min's face was unreadable. "My men would know what to do. Lee Sung-ssi will land in Korea in a few hours. Just say the word, and he'll handle them."

For some reason, Jang Min's way of helping left a bad taste in your mouth. Your heart was pounding, indicating that you wouldn't like whatever your boyfriend would say next. Still, you pushed through, "And how exactly will Lee Sung handle them?"

Jang Min paused—as if contemplating telling you the truth. He shrugged after a few minutes of deadly silence. "Lee Sung can visit them...they will talk. If the debtors insist on not paying, we can arrange some..." Jang Min trailed off, his eyes darkening. "Punishment."

You weren’t sure how you tolerated listening to your boyfriend despite your loud beating heart. Jang Min said the punishments range from mild to severe, depending on the loan amount. Some of his tactics involved intimidation and verbal threats, though he didn't recommend this as words didn't deter people. Harassment was an option, too. Lee Sung and the others could constantly call and show up at the debtors' houses and offices to scare them.

"We've batons and other weapons to—"

"Wait—Hold up." Your lips quivered as you stopped your boyfriend from speaking. You felt like your heart stopped beating, too. Was this true? Did the person you were dating really advise you to employ "Torture?" You gasped, taken by surprise. "You want me to give you the signal to torture my business clients?"

The thing about you was you gave people the benefit of the doubt. You had no reason to think Jang Min was lying when he said: "No, of course not, Cолнышко мо. The weapons are merely a front to scare them."

Your therapist told you to trust your instinct, but how could you do that when, deep down, your whole being was screaming at you to run away from Jang Min? How could you follow your instinct when Jang Min never gave you a reason to distrust him?

Jang Min had been nothing but good to you. He loved you. Most importantly, he trusted you.

"How about we talk later?" You knew it wasn't best to keep running away from the worry at the pit of your stomach. You avoided your boyfriend every time you didn't like what he did or said. Until now, you and Jang Min hadn't discussed your minor fight regarding Soobin from weeks ago. You thought it would go away once he ignored it.

It was a wrong assumption as you realized that your doubt and anger toward Jang Min had accumulated in your heart. But still... you couldn't—not right now. Not when your mind still couldn't wrap around the thought of Jang Min not being the person you thought he was. It's too speculative and distrustful.

Jang Min didn't hold the line longer. You didn't know why, but relief instantly flooded your veins once the line had been cut off. You sat on your chair, absentmindedly turning it, until you felt dizzy. It didn't help that your office door burst open, with Soobin barging in after eating a bar of chocolate.

"Mama! Mama!" The kid was uncharacteristically hyper. Soobin used to be a quiet child who could sense whenever you needed some space. But since Jungkook started babysitting him, Soobin's childish nature became more prominent.

Your head hurt.

"What are you two doing here?" You didn't want to sound accusatory, but your tone and glare directed at Jungkook said otherwise. Jungkook hovered around the door, smiling proudly at his overjoyed son.

"I picked up Soobin from school. The kid said he wants to see you." The pick-up was a stretch when Jungkook never left the school premises in the first place. Soobin was recently enrolled in preschool since he was almost four years old. You used to have a homeschool tutor for Soobin in France, but you figured your son needed to adapt to Korea’s school system. Besides, Jungkook couldn't always look after the kid; he needed to work, too.

Fortunately, Jungkook wasn't fired from the fast food restaurant he worked at after proving that he was hospitalized. His manager reassigned him to a different duty, though. Jungkook was now a food delivery rider in the restaurant's parent company. He ordered himself the cheapest meal and had it delivered at Soobin's school just so he could 'deliver' it there and watch over his son from the start until the end of his class.

Soobin ran to Jungkook when his teacher gave him the signal to go. The kid learned to sing and play a tambourine. He asked his father if they could visit you in the office as he wanted to show off his new skills.

Soobin did precisely that. He tried climbing onto your lap while excitedly shaking his instrument back and forth.

"Soobin sing!!"

Your head immediately pulsated when your son opened his mouth while still 'playing' the tambourine. It was the worst. You gritted your teeth in annoyance, your patience wearing thin.

"Soobin." You lightly grabbed your son's arms to get him to stop. You looked helplessly at Jungkook, too, but he was downright oblivious.

"Twinkle! Twinkle! Star! Soobin wonder! What! You are!" Soobin tried singing the song he had learned. Unfortunately, you didn't appreciate it. You unconsciously snarled at your kid.

"Stop it! Why won't you listen to me? You're so naughty!" You got Soobin off your lap and onto his own feet. You tried to purse your lips to control your temper, but it was too late. Tears filled Soobin's eyes.

Normally, Soobin would softly call out, "Ma?" to you, but the kid's changed. He didn't like your reaction, so he flopped on the ground, whining like a true toddler as he kicked his feet in the air.

You stared blankly at Soobin, unable to wrap your mind in the thought that, for the first time, you didn't know what to do to pacify your son.

"Mama! Mean! Mean! Hate me!" Soobin sobbed mercilessly; tears fell from his eyes. His cheeks were bright crimson because of frustration.

There was ringing in your ears. Distantly, you heard Jungkook call your name. You remained rooted in your seat, though. You physically couldn't tear your gaze from Soobin.

Crying. Soobin was crying because of you.

Jungkook was a wide reader who came across a book on how to calm an agitated child. If he wished, he could rush to Soobin and soothe him. But this wasn't his call to make. Soobin was yours before Soobin was Jungkook's. He couldn't impose but couldn't bear seeing such a heartbreaking scene.

Jungkook walked behind your back, gripping your shoulder. You froze, though you didn't shy away from Jungkook's touch. His warm hand was soothing. It gave you a sense of support, as though you could pacify Soobin on your own.

You could. But first, you had to calm yourself down.

"Breathe." Jungkook crouched down until his hot breath sprayed on your ear. "In and out. I'm going to count, okay? Be with me."

You followed the sound of Jungkook's voice until you felt your heart rate picking up its normal speed. You blinked as Soobin's cries filled your system, and suddenly, you crouched down.

"Oh, Mon bébé." You embraced Soobin, embracing him while continuously kissing his head. "I'm so sorry. Mama didn't mean to shout at you." You regretted not bringing pudding, but you figured it was best not to bribe your son with things he liked just to get him to stop feeling emotions.

Jungkook didn't say anything to you. However, that small gesture supporting your back pushed you to snap back to reality and calm down. You'd probably scream at Soobin more had it not been for Jungkook intervening.

You felt shame stabbing your heart.

"I'm sorry, Soobin. Mama is very sorry." You forced yourself to stop crying as you soothed your kid. Soobin wasn't an unreasonable child. He calmed down after you gave him a few kisses and hugs. You tried to explain the situation to your son as calmly as possible. Every time you ran out of words, Jungkook would rub your back and say you were doing well. It also helped that Jungkook smiled at Soobin to assure the kid everything was alright.

"Wanna sing my song!" Soobin demanded when you asked how you could make him feel better. Your head throbbed again, but you nodded at Soobin.

"Alright, Mon bébé."

Soobin played his tambourine while singing his song. You felt dizzy; thankfully, Jungkook was there to rub your back and lightly distract Soobin from overstimulating you. Soobin played his music at least five times before he got tired and distracted by other things.

"Lego!" He dropped his tambourine on the floor and ran to the other room where you stored his toys. Jungkook was about to go after him, but you advised him against it.

"Let him be." You massaged your temples. "You don't have to monitor him constantly, you know? I didn't know you were clingier than me."

Jungkook's lips protruded. He flopped down the chair beside you. "I'm not the one constantly attached to the baby monitor at home."

"That's cause you're with Soobin all the time!" You snorted. "You don't need a baby monitor to see him."

Jungkook didn't correct you, simply shrugging his shoulders as he busied himself, looking at the scattered papers on the table. Jungkook had thirty minutes to spare before his manager looked for him. He booked five deliveries using different names and canceled them before the orders were completed. This was not honest work, but Jungkook couldn't care less. He missed Soobin. He liked spending time with his son—with or without your push.

"What's this?" Jungkook could not control his mouth or hands. There were documents on your table. Jungkook picked up the paper that caught his attention. "You're having a hard time collecting debts? What happened?"

Jungkook's eyes moved fast. He got the gist of your problem, so he didn't mind it when you snatched the paper from him.

"Don't you have work to do?" You uttered coldly, the paper in your hand crumpling. It was Jungkook's cue to shut the fuck up, but he didn't. He couldn't. His hands and feet were cold as Lee Sung's face flashed in his mind.

He hadn't seen Lee Sung in months now. Jungkook wasn't sure if the case of him getting seriously injured deterred the loan shark from bothering him. Jungkook tried not to think about his problems, but he couldn't shake it off now that he had read something about loans.

"You're not..." Jungkook's mouth went dry. Ugly thoughts circled his brain. However, he tried to fight them off. You were not like Lee Sung. You wouldn't hurt people just because of money.

He changed his question, "How long is their debts overdue? Have you tried talking to them?"

"Jungkook." You crumpled the paper entirely. "I don't see how this is any of your business. Will you drop it? I'm already stressed as it is. Didn't you see how I snapped at my son? I..."

You inhaled sharply. You weren’t over what happened between you and Soobin earlier. It was your first big fight, and you both lost your temper. You didn't know what to do.

Jungkook was still antsy because of his issue with Lee Sung, yet his heart melted at seeing that you were struggling to adjust. Jungkook wasn't a stranger to business problems. He was like you before, afraid to voice his concerns as it was too stressful and it might affect his competency. He didn't want to appear like a sore loser before you.

You were headstrong and wouldn't shut up with your I told you so speech. But Jungkook didn't want you to go through the same problem he did. He wanted his best friend to be worry-free.

"You know Soobin throwing a tantrum is not bad, right?" Jungkook's tone was mellow.

It didn't comfort you at all. You splayed fingers over your eyes, "I don't know. He's a good kid, Jungkook. He never cries like that."

Soobin usually demands crab spring rolls and pudding, but he was well-behaved. Jang Min even claimed that Soobin would just sleep around a lot. It was shocking to see him crying and screaming.

But Jungkook assured him it was fine. "Kids who throw tantrums are not bad, okay? It just shows that they're comfortable around you. Do you think Soobin will act all vulnerable with you if he doesn't trust you?"

Jungkook made sense. You were similar to Soobin when you were a child. You refused to let out your whines and sobs in front of your mother and those people at the club for fear of punishment. But with Jisoo, you slowly learned to be vulnerable.

It should be comforting, yet a scoff left your mouth as you said sarcastically, "Is that why you didn't act 'vulnerable' around me before? Because you don't trust me?"

It was petty—an attempt to throw Jungkook off because what did he know about trusting people? However, you didn't want to be in this position anymore. It was a constant battle between your past and current self. You didn’t want to stay loyal to your suffering anymore.

And Jungkook was trying. He had never done anything wrong since he first got involved with Soobin.

"I'm sorry," you said immediately. Because trust, you realized, was a two-way street. You shamed Jungkook for what he did years ago, but here you were, one step forward and two backward with Jungkook.

"That's not fair of me." You held Jungkook's cold hand in an attempt to show sincerity. The bastard's hands were warm. You wanted to press your face against them. "You're trying to be helpful. I shot you down."

It's okay. Jungkook wanted to say because, like he claimed weeks ago, he was not in any position to snarl at you. But it wasn't working anymore. No one said breaking down walls would be easy.

Jungkook needed an axe to smash those damn cemented walls.

"Then don't shoot me down anymore." Jungkook didn't pull his hands away. He wished he could caress your face. "Let me help you.”

You tongued the inside of your cheek, looking hesitant, but you nodded.

Jungkook let out a long breath.

"Thank you." Then his face turned solemn. "There are many ways to make your debtors pay. I didn't see all your files, but I'm guessing they're merely accounts receivable?"

You did not want to have this conversation with Jungkook. You thought you were still discussing how to raise Soobin. You found yourself answering Jungkook's queries, though.

"Most are accounts receivable, yes." Your forehead creased. "But I have people who loaned money from my business."

"Are you taking legal action?" Suddenly, Jungkook couldn't breathe. His throat hurt—as if he was being choked. "Please listen to me. There's no point in imprisoning or employing violence to them."

"What do you take me for?" You scoffed, hiding your nervousness behind your mask. Shit. Did Jungkook know? Did he somehow figure out Jang Min's suggestion?

"No." Jungkook pulled you out of deep thought. "I'm just asking. It's not a good idea.”

He explained to you why legal action was not worth it.

"It's costly. The court will fix a payment date for them, but your debtors are not guaranteed to pay you. Besides..." Jungkook said imprisonment wasn't viable as it would hinder the debtors from paying you more. How could they make money if they were in prison?

"Sell your accounts receivable to factoring companies. You have products nearing the expiration date, right? They're in debt because they bought similar items from your company. You won't be able to sell most of them. This is Korea. We're strict about the dates, so just hand them as freebies to those who will pay you on a specified date. As for your loans receivable, wave the interest. Do you have an accountant in your firm?"

You couldn't follow how fast things were going. Jungkook solved your worries in seconds, and none involved pressuring your debtors illegally. They all sounded fair.

"I..." You blinked and wetted your lips, "Yes. I've several of them."

"Good. Schedule a meeting with them. You need management accountants to formulate strategies for you, but I have some tricks to speed up collection without hurting anyone. Are you familiar with the lockbox system?"

Your mind was floating. This was such a dreamy solution. Your weeks' worth of stress was rapidly crumbling down.

You smiled at Jungkook—a sincere smile. "Hold on for a minute. I'll call everyone involved, and then we can all discuss. Stay. I need you here."

Jungkook flashed a smile, too. He squeezed your hands. "I'm here, okay?"

You didn't mind that you were holding hands with Jungkook all this time. Good. Everything was good.

**** The first week of you and Jungkook teaming up to solve business problems passed without a hiccup.

You were both sleep-deprived, though.

"Drink." Jungkook placed a glass of hot milk in front of you. "You’re too hotheaded. Hotheaded people need milk to cool down."

"Tsk." You clicked your tongue, but you drank the milk in one go. "You're insufferable."

****

You faced some challenges in the second week. Fortunately, it was not something you and Jungkook couldn't handle.

"I miss Soobin," Jungkook complained while you were in a boring meeting.

"He's literally on the other side of the room."

Jungkook gave you a knowing look. You raised your hand in surrender. "Fine. I miss him, too. Go on, call him. If he doesn't quietly sit on your lap, I'll kick both of you out of this meeting."

"Always so violent, sweetheart."

You just shook your head. Jungkook was wrong. You didn't have it in you to kick him out anymore.

**** The third week was where you gave your all. It was finalized. Your company has partially recovered. It wouldn't take long before everything returned to normal.

"Thank you." You told Jungkook sincerely.

"No problem." Jungkook wiggled his brows playfully. "What are best—frie—"

It was painfully embarrassing (and endearing) to witness Jungkook looking for the right word to describe your relationship.

"Friends." You supplied helpfully. "We're friends now."

Relief washed over Jungkook’s face. It showed in his sparkly brown eyes.

"Thank you." The unsaid words went like this:

I won't fail you anymore.

****

The fourth week was when you proposed an official position for Jungkook.

"Join the company." You said without any hesitation. "Head strategist in finance. The team needs you."

It should be answerable by yes or no. Regrettably, Jungkook only murmured your name.

"What." You tried to remain calm despite feeling your heart falling. Jungkook was rejecting you. "You ventured with Jimin before, didn't you? This isn't any different. I guarantee you the pay is good. It's more than what you make as a delivery rider."

It wasn't said out of spite. You simply stated a fact, but Jungkook's lips were tightly shut.

The words 'come on, bastard' were at the tip of your tongue. You didn't voice it out, opting for a safer approach.

"You've done a good job saving us all. I owe you one." You patted Jungkook's shoulder and squeezed it in a friendly manner. "Let me treat you to a fancy dinner, alright? I already bought you a suit. Wear it. Forget everything first and have fun with me there."

The silence ballooned. You popped it after a few seconds.

"Then, at the end of the night, you can tell me your answer about the offer. See you, Kookie."

Kookie.

Jungkook's breathing hitched; by the time he could react, you were long gone.

****

In spite of his doubts, Jungkook was happy to go on a date with you.

A date.

Jungkook snorted at himself. He was pretty sure you didn't see your meeting as a date, but it didn't stop him from daydreaming. Months ago, his life was so messed up that he wished he could end it all. Now, though...

Jungkook looked at his figure in the mirror. He cleaned up nicely. The white suit you bought for him was akin to royalty. He knew you spent a fortune on this one.

It's going to be okay. Jungkook cheered, a rare thing he did. It was just dinner—he'd casually talk to you, and just like you said, you would have fun.

Your meeting was timed at 7PM. Jungkook went to the washroom to freshen up, expecting you to arrive when he returned to your reserved table.

Sadly, there was no sign of you anywhere.

Jungkook looked at the time: 7:35PM. It was rare for you not to show up on the dot, causing him to check the date.

He didn't get it wrong, though. You were really scheduled to go out tonight. Perhaps you had a difficult time looking for a babysitter?

But if so, why didn't you contact him?

Jungkook shook his head slightly. Never mind. He'd just wait for some time.

****

The clock said 8:15PM, but you hadn't arrived yet.

****

9:24PM and there was still no sign of you anywhere.

****

10:13PM

Jungkook brought out the company phone you lent to him.

Are we still up for tonight? He asked.

There was no response.

***

10:28PM

Jungkook's stomach growled. The server asked if his company would still be coming.

"She is." He said as he drank his sparkling water.

His stomach growled, but he had no money to order food.

Frankly, he wasn't in the mood to eat either.

****

11:08PM

Jungkook asked for the bill. He paid a small amount since he only ordered water.

"I guess my friend isn't coming at all."

The waiter looked at Jungkook apologetically.

It's okay. Jungkook wanted to say. I've been through worse.

The walk out of the restaurant and into your home was layered with lavender haze. It wasn't raining, but a storm was brewing in his heart.

Jungkook looked up at the sky. It wasn't okay.

****

11:42PM

Jungkook arrived at your house. He still lived with you. Truthfully, You gave him a spare key to go in and out of the house whenever he wanted. However, Jungkook wasn’t sure he could enter as he pleased because outside your home was an Aurus Senat car. Jungkook had the worst timing—he saw you hopping out of the vehicle; your expression was soft as you looked at the other person getting out of the car.

It was a man. Jungkook couldn’t see the man’s face as he was carrying a sleeping Soobin in his arms. The mysterious man stood near you, crouching down a little to give you a slow kiss.

Oh.

Pain flashed in Jungkook’s eyes as he witnessed the scene before him.

You were dating another man.

Jungkook knew he wasn’t entitled to feel anger or jealousy. Unfortunately, those were the exact two emotions that engulfed his heart—jealousy being more apparent than the other.

The green monster screamed at Jungkook to storm over there, possessively wrapped his arms around your waist, and carried Soobin in his arms.

That’s my child. Jungkook’s jealousy was taking control.

And you. You were….

Jungkook’s thoughts had been cut off when someone sneaked behind him. The emotions he had yet to process went down the drain in an instant—it was replaced by fear when he felt a cold metallic blade hovering on the side of his stomach. It was followed by an overly saccharine greeting.

“Hello there, Jungkook-ah. Long time no see.” Jungkook froze. The man behind him chuckled. “Stay with me for a while, hmm? We can’t have you ruining a perfect family reunion, right?”

The man harshly angled Jungkook’s face toward your direction to see the perfect image of a family.

Jungkook’s heart clenched, but he didn’t have it in him to feel jealous anymore. His days were numbered.

Lee Sung was back.

*****

A/N: I didn't use too much jargon, did I? What do we think about this chapter.

Reblog, like, comment if you can! It inspires me to write 🎀

it's 3AM i need sleep. i have work later. good night!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #jungkook x you #fic: baggage #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc

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affableramen · 1 month

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“Debtor” | Pantalone x afab! Reader

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort

Word count: 1,1K

Autumn 🍂 🌧️

“Ah, you returned the debt. Congratulations.” His voice seems bitter. For a moment you think he is somewhat upset. He passes you your documents back, his gloved fingers almost unnoticeably trembling.

“You returned everything. Everything, till the last coin. Now, are you happy with the results?”

“Are we at the exam or something?” you finally ask him, indifferently though.

Pantalone chuckles under his breath.

“What I mean is… Are you happy to finally get rid of something as overwhelming as my presence?”

You do not respond to that, looking into his eyes intensely as if trying to read this shady prick’s mind.

“What? Surely you’re not going to miss me. That would simply be a lie.” He snickers. The chuckle that leaves his mouth seems more bitter than mocking.

You snatch the important papers from his hand, with a corner of your eye noticing how his fingers immediately tense into a fist.

“Well then, if that’s a goodbye…” once again he smirks. “Though, I’m not entirely sure I want to let go of you.”

“Do you hear yourself? You said that out loud.”

“Yes, I did.” The tall dark figure of the banker towers over you. “Surely you have not grown fond of me during these twelve months?”

“…fond of you?” You chuckle nervously. “I am… was your debtor.”

Pantalone adjusts his glasses.

“So?”

The both of you are standing in front of each other, just staring at this point. You can feel the electricity right in the air. It’s heavy.

Without any warning Pantalone just starts approaching you, cutting the air in your lungs with his assertive presence.

You instinctively press both hands against his shoulders as he leaves no space between your bodies.

“Stop, you’re pushing me.”

Pantalone looks into your eyes and then at your hands. Seeing you obviously not accept his attention, and your eyes speak confusion, he pulls away and speaks nonchalantly:

“You may leave.”

Dumbfounded, you feel stuck with your back against the wall as if glued.

“What are you waiting for? You’re free”, he waves his hand dismissively. You do not move an inch, however. Your inner self is left debating over his words. It’s so strange, you were not expecting him to change his mind so quickly. For a moment, you feared he’d never let you go, like a typical yandere so often spoken of in fiction.

“I said, leave”, you hear him repeat.

He raised his voice, you realised it was quite the stretch for him. Without thinking twice, you obediently bow your head, taking documents as you hurry leaving.

As you escape the Northland Bank, cold shivers run down your spine. You feel insulted, no, humiliated at the thought of him teasing and seducing you only to just drop the act in the end. For a moment you truly believed that Pantalone, the ninth Harbinger, was going to kiss you. How absurd! Why would he even—

You sense wetness on your hair and the loud sound of droplets hitting the trees.

“It’s raining.”

You pull your phone out and dial a taxi number. You wish to get home as sooner as possible, not wanting to contemplate over a strange encounter with your former boss, who will eventually become a nobody to you.

Unfortunately, as dumb as it can ever be, the taxi-driver mistakes the address and you realise you have to cross the street over. You feel yourself already soaked, but you need that damned car to get you to your home. As you start crossing the road a sleek black car stops right in front of you, cutting your way.

“I have a proposition for you.”

It is obviously Pantalone who gets out of the luxurious car. No one but him would ever show off with such privilege.

“What do you want? I returned the debt, our deal is finished. I’ve got nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing at all?”

His hair slowly gets soaked too.

“I’m well aware of the gossips and the kind of man I give off. However, you must believe me for once.”

You look at the taxi waiting for you and then back at Pantalone.

“Fine. But make it quick.”

Pantalone takes a small step closer to you.

“Would you ever say ‘yes’ to me? Not the forced ‘yes’ as if demanded by the contract, but genuine agreement? What if I ask you to stay?”

“Stay where?”

He takes one single step closer.

“Stay… as if in my life.”

“Stay with you?”

Your jaw practically drops. The taxi driver is still there, waiting.

“I want you. I love you. You got under my skin ever since you entered my damn bank.” For the first time in life you see vulnerability in Pantalone’s eyes. You question if it is real, though.

“Those twelve months were the best in my life. So don’t go now, don’t leave me alone. Stay close.”

“You truly want it?”

He gently takes your hands in his, seeing no discomfort or pushing back.

“I want to have you around. I need your company. Be mine.”

You release from his hands, instead reaching your hand to gently graze his face.

“Is that yes enough for you?” You kiss him. It’s the gentlest kiss Pantalone’s ever known. Pantalone tenses up when you accept his affections but eventually gives into your hug, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. You can feel his gloved fingers gently tangle your hair.

“I don’t want to say goodbye. Not to you, my dear debtor.”

“Ex-debtor.”

“Yes. My dear ex-debtor. Stay with me, I wish nothing more.”

As he keeps you in the tight, possessive embrace that makes you realise you are his, you feel the heavenly feeling of mutual attraction, which you so long suppressed in you, fearing to be rejected or mistreated by such a powerful man.

But right now, he is not intimidating or dominant. He feels soft, goofy even.

“Pantalone… We’ll catch a cold like this.”

“You’re right. As much as I don’t want to stop, you seem to be soaked already.”

“You are too. It’s bad for you asthma.”

Pantalone pulls away, speechless for a moment.

“I certainly did not expect you to remember such an insignificant thing about me”, the banker turns to the taxi driver that has been waiting for you and signals him to go. Not releasing your arm, he gently guides you to his car.

“Let’s keep ourselves warm and dry.”

#pantalone #pantalone x reader #genshin x reader #pantalone x you #reader x character #anime x reader

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privateinvestigatorsuniverse · 1 month

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How Can You Get Assistance From The Missing Person Investigation Experts?

Till yesterday the person was with you. Indeed it is hard to accept when you lose someone. It becomes traumatic. But yes, being the well-wisher till your last breath, you will try your best to find out the real reason behind the persons getting missing. So here let’s check out the few facts which say how missing persons Brisbane can help you.

Legal Support

The legal process is quite complicated, so specialised knowledge is required. They help families to stay informed of their legal whereabouts and move accordingly.

Advocating

Families with missing persons often face mental dilemmas. They don’t know whether to come up with the problem for the other person. In that case, they go to the advocates for a way out. And missing person lawyers do handle it delicately. They work with complete compassion and try their best to win the case. Now such a friendly gesture automatically relieves the near ones and family.

Detailed Investigation

Once you call up the missing person investigators, they conduct a detailed investigation. But before plunging into the case, they try to find the root cause at length. When a person disappears or gets missing, is it by self-choice, or something wrong happened to the person? They start to garner all sorts of manifestations that support the case. Also, they work hand in hand with the experts, like other investigators and lawyers, to reveal the truth.

Assistance

When someone all of a sudden gets missing automatically, that is the case when you start to think about what happened. And honestly, you don’t get the answer so quickly like an investigator company. But yes, it’s the most challenging time when you feel like getting some support. Well, of course, the investigators do help you overcome that. They allow you to cope with the anxiety that you face during such excruciating moments.

Final Say

So you can call any Missing Persons Investigation experts and ensure that you get complete guidance in any case when a near one gets missing.

#Missing Persons Brisbane #Missing Persons Australia #Lost Friends Investigator #Family Missing person #Debtor Missing person #missing person investigators #locating your missing person #Financial responsibility person

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utilitycaster · 5 months

Text

Bonus:

Campaign 2 episode 92/Campaign 3 episode 92 parallels (with some assistance from 3x89)

Transcription of the text in the above images (screenshots from the Critical Role Transcript Search) below the cut:

The following is excerpts from Campaign 2, Episode 92, and Campaign 3 Episode 92 (except one from 89, noted below), interspersed. Travis is playing Fjord, Marisha is playing Beau, Laura is playing Imogen, Liam is playing Orym, and Matt plays Thoreau Lionett in the Campaign 2 excerpt and Liliana Temult in the Campaign 3 excerpt:

First image:

TRAVIS: Your histamine reactions are going again.

MARISHA: Yeah. I've been away from Zadash for a little bit, so the pollen, it's kicking a little, you know?

TRAVIS: I take it you don't fully, fully hate your dad. It's got to be hard to hear this.

Second image:

LAURA: I'm going to heard toward Orym who's at a distance and approach slowly.

LIAM: Hey.

LAURA: Hi. I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder.

LIAM: Sorry, I know how hard all that is for you.

Third image:

MARISHA: Everyone wants to make their dad proud, you know? Just hoping he could, he could show some of that.

TRAVIS: You don't know that he can't. It's been years. You've grown, you've changed. I'm sure you were even more of an unbearable shit before. I'm not saying he deserves a second chance, but he is your father, and you do have a mother, and a brother that you've never met.

MARISHA: (sniffs) I guess it's hard when... the word inevitable has been brought up several times in the past 24 hours amongst us. I feel like I've found my family with The Mighty Nein. I don't like looking at my past, because it doesn't have The Mighty Nein in it, and I think I put off the inevitable, because I'm going to-- I'm afraid it's going to be like my past.

Fourth image:

LAURA: Don't apologize. I can't begin to understand how hard it is for you.

LIAM: You know, every one of us makes our decisions with the lenses or prisms we see life through.

LAURA: Mm-hmm.

LIAM: I can't take mine down. (sobs softly) It's not even about revenge for me. (sniffles) I just try and honor what they sign up to do. (sniffles) I just try and honor what they sign up to do.

LAURA: I didn't know them, but I can't imagine they wouldn't look at you and not be proud.

LIAM: (sighs sadly)

LAURA: I think you've gone farther than anyone could ever expect you to, and you're still going.

Fifth image:

TRAVIS: I don't think one contaminates the other. You've got good, solid footing here. I mean, shit, if we want to run, we run. If we want to kick his ass, we'll kick his ass.

MARISHA: Yeah. (sniffing) I kind of want to kick his ass, and I don't want to run.

TRAVIS: Could I ask you, in your wildest dreams, and feel free to say you don't want to tell me, what would you have happen when we go there?

MARISHA: I think I've worked so hard because I scripted this day, in my inevitable future that I would go back to him, successful woman, respectable member of society, Cobalt Soul, an Expositor, the thing he threw me away to, and I embraced. And then, I would get mad at myself, because I felt like I was doing exactly what he was doing to me my entire life, scripting me to be something else. And I'm still doing it. I haven't seen him in three years, and I'm still trying to be... something. And I think what's scary is that I like this, and what I've found, and I don't think it was until Nott started talking about having to go home and go away that it truly started terrifying me. Because for the first time, I'm happy. And what if that goes away?

Sixth image:

LIAM: (sighs softly) (sniffles) So far. I'm going to miss him.

LAURA: Yeah. Yeah.

LIAM: I'm going to miss Letters.

(sniffles)

LAURA: They were-- They were alive.

LIAM: Out of any of us, he just wanted to help.

Seventh image:

TRAVIS: It could always go away. It could go away tonight. The Gentleman's debtors could come calling.

MARISHA: (chuckling) And I think I know that, and I think I say things to Nott like, "You don't have to put those stipulations on yourself" because I've convinced myself that destiny or the inevitability won't come knocking. If you ignore it, it won't exist, and that's not true.

TRAVIS: (sighs) It'll be interesting either way. Your face is leaking.

MARISHA: I hate it.

TRAVIS: I won't tell anyone.

MARISHA: Don't tell anybody.

TRAVIS: Yep. You're a good friend. You're a good trainer.

Eighth image:

LAURA: I want you to know that that for a while it may have felt that you and I were not seeing eye to eye or maybe you felt that I, I didn't have the same goal in mind that you did. But don't worry about that anymore, all right?

LIAM: I understand family.

LAURA: Yeah. Yeah.

LIAM: I want for all the world for you to have your family.

LAURA: I wanted that, too, and (chuckles) god, that back and forth is a pretty funny thing, but choices were made. If nothing else, then at least we've got a little bit of knowledge on the inside now.

LIAM: Yeah. As much we'd like to, you can't turn back the clock.

LAURA: That's right. But you've got us.

Bonus image 1:

MARISHA: Mom already fucking mentioned that life gets difficult and it's hard. So you're right. Maybe it's easy to justify the easy way out, just get rid of the problem.

MATT: "That's not what this was about. You were on the self-destructive path. We didn't know what to do. I've never been a-- no one teaches you how to be a good father. I regret choices I've made, and you don't think I don't hold myself responsible for-- I thought I was doing what was best for you, truly."

MARISHA: You did. It was probably the best thing you could've done for me. So thank you. Tell me the story again, and then I'll go.

Bonus image 2 (from 3x89):

MATT: "History is filled with evil men. But few have the courage to stand up and try and stop them. Where I'm standing, I don't think we're on the opposing sides like you think we are. We just have a different myth, that's all. That's all. Please see it in yourself to understand why I've done and given up all of this."

LAURA: Maybe it's your turn to run. And I wake up.

#critical role #fjord stone #beauregard lionett #imogen temult #orym

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gegengestalt · 5 months

Text

131 useless or often forgotten facts in The Brothers Karamazov!

This 27 of April is the second anniversary of the day I finished this book for the first time. To do something special, I reread it over the last 20 days and as I did it, I compiled little things that are easy to forget in these 1000 pages filled with food for thought. Let's go!

1. Mitya fought in a duel, though it's most likely that nobody died in it.

2. Ivan's journalist pseudonym is "Eyewitness".

3. Alyosha, in his own words, came back to Skotoprigonyevsk to visit his mother's grave.

4. Fyodor Pavlovich owns several taverns in the district.

5. Grigory was the one who gave Sofia Ivanovna a proper gravestone.

6. Alyosha is one deduction away from becoming a communist.

7. The Brothers Karamazov begins in late August.

8. Kalganov is supposedly Alyosha's friend. This is never mentioned ever again.

9. Kalganov gave one coin to some beggars and told them to divide it among themselves.

10. There is a rumour that the previous elder beat people with sticks. This is false.

11. Alyosha is the only person in the monastery who knows that Rakitin is an atheist, and keeps his secret.

12. Four years ago, Pyotr Miusov divulged a fake story about a saint making out with his own decapitated head. Fyodor never forgot.

13. Madame Khokhlakov is only 33 years old. She has been a widow for 5 years, meaning Lise lost her father at age 9.

14. Zosima's serenity in front of the woman who confesses to a murder may foreshadow his later recollection of having a murder confessed to before.

15. Zosima likes to make jokes.

16. Lise and Alyosha last saw each other two years before.

17. Reminder that Grushenka met Mitya because Fyodor wanted her help to throw Mitya into a debtors' prison.

18. Kuzma Samsonov is the mayor of Skotoprigonyevsk.

19. Ivan rambled to Dmitri and Katerina about how he thinks Rakitin will be a failed journalist turned landlord.

20. Fyodor Pavlovich's house is filled with rats.

21. The Miusov family had their own private theatre.

22. Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya was a bit over 142cm/4'7 tall.

23. In 1842 there was a runaway convict called Karp commiting crimes in Skotoprigonyevsk.

24. Marya Kondratievna's mother is missing a leg.

25. Mitya ghosted a girl in real life.

26. Katerina's mother died when she was young.

27. Mitya had a fever for two weeks once because of a spider bite.

28.Mitya thought Grushenka was "nothing striking" the first time he saw her.

29. Mitya was squatting in his neighbour's rented room.

30. Fyodor Pavlovich has a portrait of the former provincial governor in his house.

31. Fyodor Pavlovich goes to sleep at 3- 4AM, like Dostoyevsky himself.

32. Sofia Ivanovna was being courted by a rich man called Beliavsky while she was married.

33. Who was the woman coming from the alley that Mitya mistook for Grushenka? I still wonder.

34. A cheap glass jar was destroyed during Mitya's frenzied break- in.

35. Katerina sends two detailed reports a week to her surrogate mother figure who lives in Moscow.

36. Katerina has an aquarium.

37. Alyosha sleeps using his monk habit as a blanket.

38. Father Ferapont survives eating nothing more than 1,6kg of bread a week.

39. Ivan had told his father about his feelings for Katerina, for some reason.

40. When Alyosha kissed his father, he had the impression that Alyosha was thinking that it was their last conversation.

41. Madame Khokhlakova owns three houses as property.

42. Madame Khokhlakova and Katerina Ivanovna are supposedly great friends.

43. Ivan reads Schiller when nobody is looking.

44. One of Snegiryov's daughters, Varvara, is invested in feminism.

45. Captain Snegiryov's childhood friend is a lawyer.

46. Mitya spilled cognac over the table of the summerhouse.

47. Smerdyakov sings in falsetto.

48. Marya Kondratievna is the only one who ever calls Smerdyakov 'Pavel Fyodorovich'.

49. Ivan uses Smerdyakov as a messenger.

50. Dmitri and Katerina had been engaged for around six months.

51. Ivan's right shoulder looks lower than the left one when he walks.

52. Smerdyakov often moves the tip of his right foot from side to side when he stands (adorable).

53. Dmitri's favourite death threats are "pounding in a mortar" and "breaking legs".

54. Grigory suffers from paralysis three times a year.

55. The real name of 'Lyagavy' is Gorstkin.

56. Zosima's real name is "Zinovy".

57. There was actually another old German doctor before Herzenstube and he was named Eisenschmidt.

58. Zosima has known Brother Anfim for forty years.

59. The Bible is thrown once.

60. Madame Khokhlakova asked Rakitin to go to the funeral as her eye.

61. Alyosha was hiding behind the grave of starets Iov, who lived 105 years.

62. Zosima was harshly criticized for telling a monk hallucinating to take his meds if praying doesn't work.

63. Both Grushenka and Rakitin are children of deacons.

64. Samsonov is the only person that Grushenka seems to be completely and clearly sincere with.

65. Likewise, Samsonov only trusts her when it comes to counting money.

66. Samsonov has the entire first floor of his house for himself.

67. Mitya tells many of his secrets to his landlords, who are fond of him.

68. Alongside eggs and bread, Mitya grabbed and ate a piece of sausage that he "found".

69. Mitya and Perkhotin first met at the Metropolis tavern.

70. Mitya's dueling pistols are his "most prized possessions".

71. Madame Khokhlakova apparently borrows money from Miusov.

72. The brass pestle was 17 centimetres long.

73. Mitya spent exactly 300 rubles in food and alcohol in Mokroye, and it would have been 400 if Perkhotin didn't help.

74. Mitya gave a glass of champagne to a kid.

75. The owner of Plotnikov's shop is called Varvara Alexeievna.

76. Two thousand villagers live in Mokroye.

77. Trifon Borissovich makes his younger daughters clean up the messes of every guest of the inn.

78. Pan Wroblewski is 190cm / 6'2 tall.

79. Madame Khokhlakova gets a migraine whenever she has to talk to Mitya.

80. The ispravnik's elder granddaughter is called Olga, and the night of the murder was her birthday.

81. The prosecutor's wife seems very interested in sending for Mitya often, for reasons he doesn't know.

82. Mitya does not know that the epidermis is the outer layer of the skin.

83. Nikolay Parfenovich is the only person in the world who trusts Ippolit Kirillovich.

84. Mitya often dreams that a person that he fears is chasing him and searching for him.

85. Nikolay Parfenovich wears a smoky topaz ring on his middle finger.

86. Pan Wroblewski is a dentist without a license.

87. Kalganov had visited Grushenka once before, but she seemed to dislike him for some reason.

88. Kolya's father died when he was a little baby.

89. There was a plot going on in the background about the doctor's maid having a child out of wedlock.

90. Rakitin often talks with Kolya. Seems like the only person who takes his ideas seriously is a literal child.

91. Smerdyakov and Ilyusha met and talked to each other.

92. Alyosha rarely gets colds.

93. Katerina befriended Snegiryov's sick wife.

94. Kolya was taken to a judge for teaching a guy how to efficiently crack the neck of a goose.

95. Kolya is against women's rights.

96. Mitya and Grushenka spent five weeks secluded and away from each other after the arrest.

97. Grushenka went to see Grigory to try to convince him that the door wasn't open.

98. Rakitin made up in an article that Madame Khokhlakova offered Mitya 3k rubles to run away with her.

99. Madame Khokhlakova doesn't remember Rakitin's patronymic, and calls him "Ivanovich" instead of "Osipovich".

100. Madame Khokhlakova didn't know of the judicial system reform until two days before the trial.

101. Lise sent chocolates to Mitya in jail, even though there's no reference to them ever interacting before.

102. Alyosha has had the same dream about the devils that Lise has.

103. Alyosha is friends with the jail inspector, who often discusses the gospels with him.

104. Mitya spent two entire nights awake since he discovered ethics.

105. Ivan cleans his own room.

106. Smerdyakov shared a hospital room with an agonizing dropsy patient.

107. Mitya's letter had the bill on the other side.

108. Smerdyakov uses garters with his stockings.

109. There is an apple tree in Fyodor's garden.

110. One of Ivan's "most stupid" thoughts is being the fat wife of a merchant.

111. Ivan had a friend named Korovkin when he was 17, the one he told the story of the quadrillion kilometres to.

112. Ivan has another poem named Geological Cataclysm.

113. Alyosha was the first person the distraught Marya Kondratievna ran to.

114. Ivan is mistaken for "the eldest son" twice in the trial.

115. Grigory did not remember he was in 1866.

116. Rakitin knows "every detail" of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs.

117. Grushenka's surname, Svetlova, means "light".

118. Mitya once dropped 100 rubles while he was drunk.

119. Ivan saw not just the Devil, but people who had died while he walked in the street.

120. Ippolit Kirillovich died nine months after the trial, the first and last day he received applauses.

121. Marfa is dismissed as a suspect simply because they can't imagine her killing.

122. There is a partition wall in Mitya's lodgings.

123. Mitya mostly stopped staring at the floor during the prosecutor's speech whenever Grushenka was mentioned.

124. Fetyukovich bends forward in an unnerving manner when he speaks.

125. An 18 year old street vendor committed axe murder earlier that year.

126. The verdict was given past 1AM, making the trial last almost 16 hours.

127. Katerina kept the sick Ivan in her house knowing it could possibly be harmful to her reputation.

128. Rakitin tried to sneak in to see Mitya in the hospital twice.

129. Lise sent the flowers that adorn Ilyusha's coffin, and Katerina paid for the grave.

130. Snegiryov cries seeing his late son's little boots the same way one of the women at the monastery in the beginning of the book did.

131. At the end, Alyosha mentions "leaving the city for a long time" soon. Where to? We don't know.

If you read this far down, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing all of these down.

#the brothers karamazov #fyodor dostoyevsky #I had made a thread on twt about this but decided to post it all at once on tumblr

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mslanna · 6 months

Note

Raphael reacting to his little mouse, who refuses to sign a contract that binds their soul to him, bowing or kneeling before him, taking one of his hands (for a moment he thinks - or maybe hopes - that they will place a kiss on the back of his hand), and declaring their allegiance to him, swearing to fight for and defend him with their life if need be. "I am already bound to you. No contract required." That is when he finally, finally recognizes the way they look at him, that it is with love and adoration but tinged with the belief that it will never be reciprocated, because it is how he gazes at them when nobody is looking.

No Deal

Also up on AO3

As a small favour, the Crown of Karsus fell into the Chionthar when Tav defeated the Netherbrain. It gave Raphael time to consider what offer to make when they came to deliver it. His little mouse proved to be quite capable, even more so than he had expected. It was time to bind them to him. Forever.

All he had to do was arrange the offer perfectly. If he said forever, he meant it. Tav would not die in his service. And as a result, their soul would never be forfeit. A prefect setup for his wary paladin. In return, well in return Tav would stay by his side, fight with him, rule with him. And in the long run – be his entirely.

The meeting was planned to the last. Not in the House of Hope where his debtors – or worse incubus – might interfere. Raphael prepared the room he rented in Sharess' Caress. Tav spoke up about the rose petals last they met. There would be rose petals again – plenty and fragrant.

Wine of similar qualities, of a dark red that lay in the goblets like thick velvet. A choice of chocolates, pastries, and savoury snacks. It looked like a seduction but if that was what it took to seal a deal with his mouse, Raphael would. His. The word echoed in his mind. A promise. A future.

Korrilla kept an eyes on Tav while they searched the river for his prize. She let him know immediately when Tav found is and Raphael was ready. He checked his new outfit in the mirror a last time. Black and red – a true prince of the hells. Soon to be king. All that was missing in his perfect future was the crown and companion.

Both walked through his door mere moments later. Raphael's prefect vision dissolved, pooling at Tav's feet with the water dripping from their clothes and hair. They hadn't even stopped to dry themself. As undignified as Tav looked, the fact they could not wait to present him his prize filled Raphael with pride.

"Come in," he gestured with half a bow.

Tav looked around, acutely aware of the dirty river water they trailed behind. They avoided the rose petals as if the water would hurt them. Raphael smiled to himself. Such consideration. Soon to be all his.

With an apologetic smile, Tav raised the crown in his direction. "Sorry for being late. The river…" The sentence trailed off.

"No need for apologies. You are true to your words as I knew you would be." He smiled, a reassuring sight on his human form. "And I appreciate your efforts and – eagerness to present their success. Your success and mine." He lowered his voice.

The effect on Tav was unmistakable. They tensed and shrunk back a little. Not what he had hoped for, but he'd work with it. "Maybe you want to clean and warm up before we continue?" He gestured at the pool behind him, heating the water with a wave of his hand.

Tav froze on the spot and fire rushed into their cheeks.

"Ah, human shame." Raphael shook his head slightly. "What an interesting, if useless, concept. I can leave you to it. No need to be uncomfortable."

Surprisingly, Tav did not jump at the opportunity. After a few moments watching the mortal stutter and writhe Raphael had mercy. "Have it your way. Come," he beckoned them, "let us fulfil the deal."

Slowly Tav crossed the room. Raphael smelled the filth of the river on them. This was a lot less glamorous than his plans, Still, when his mouse stopped before him, Raphael bent his knee and offer his head. This, at least, he would have.

After a short hesitation, Tav raised the crown and placed it gently on his head. The weight settled reassuringly on his head and Raphael felt the power coursing through it. Half his perfect future secured. He opened his eyes and met Tav's gaze – thoughtful and soft. A hint of sadness hanging back, almost obscured by their smile.

"Join me." Raphael took Tav's hand as he rose. "Join me and my victorious rule over the nine hells."

Tav blinked but didn't pull their hand away. "You – want me to stick around?"

The uncertainty in their voice wounded Raphael. He had been open about his appreciation, had he not? Generous with praise and lavish in his offers. "You have proven yourself invaluable, have you not? And I would hate to lose my favourite client."

"Oh." Something changed in the way Tav held themself.

Raphael pressed on, unwilling to lose the momentum and, with it, his little mouse. "There is no need for us to part ways. I have need of capable hands like yours. Loyalty like yours," he added quickly to stop the sagging of their shoulders. "There is none to be had in the hells, but you, little mouse," Raphael took their chin between his fingers, "you I trust."

Colour returned to Tav's cheeks as they cast down their eyes. "A bodyguard? A counsellor?"

"All that and more." He nudged Tav's face to make them look at him. "Immortality in my service for the price of your soul."

Tav didn't answer, didn't move.

Raphael conjured the contract. "You cannot die in my service, but only if you do, your soul is mine. We work together. Forever."

Finally, Tav retracted their hand from his grip. Their eyes searched his face but didn't seem to find what they were looking for. With a sigh, they sank to their knees, taking his hand as he had done before. "I don't need a contract, Raphael. I am yours to command, to fight or defend, with all my prowess and needs be with my life."

Taken aback, Raphael stared down at the mortal. This was unexpected and he didn't deal in the unexpected. He was a devil of the most cunning kind. He held all the cards. He pulled out the rug under his counterparts.

But Tav looked up, eyes deep and dark. A gentle resignation swimming under the intense gaze. "I am bound to you already, Raphael. No contract required." Tav smiled sadly. "No contract desired."

"What is it your desire?" Raphael's heart skipped when Tav gazed down at his hand shortly. But only their eyes alighted on it. Regrettably. And now, that his little mortal looked up at him again, he recognised the resignation for what it was. The stumbling, the hesitation, the stuttering faced with him.

Not fear, not even reluctance. Tav didn't even struggle with their feelings for him but the knowledge that their one-sided affection would doom them. And that they wouldn't mind. Tav's answer needed no words, so intense was their gaze. Raphael smiled, more than victory burning in his veins.

He pulled Tav upright, cradling their hand in his and pressing a soft kiss onto its back. "Say no more." The contract vanished in a flash of hellfire. His. Without a contract. Bound by forces the hells could never combat. Ready to be devoured, if only they were not covered in filthy river water.

Raphael took a step back and looked his mouse over. Still dripping. Still smelly. But now lit from within by fires hotter than Avernus. His. He growled another kiss over Tav's hand before letting go.

"Still, I will not have you die in my service." He placed his hand over Tav's heart and head, anchoring the magic in their body. The mortal shivered under his touch, a temptation and a promise. Raphael smiled. His. It was a good day to start his future as archdevil supreme.

"I – I think I'll have that bath now," Tav sighed, exhaustion overpowering them.

"As you wish." With a snap of his fingers Raphael heated the water again and floated wine and food to the side of the pool. "Let me know when you are done."

"Oh, I think you will now when I'm done." Tav grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the steaming water.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #sleazy second-hand car dealer #mel writes fanfic #writing prompt #anon answered

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jegonriver · 1 year

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Part 2 of my Raphael notes and observations from combing over the House of Hope, be warned these may be spoiler-ish:

There's a copy of the DnD-verse K*ma S*tra in his boudoir, I cant remember what its called tho its like quarta serto or something.

There is an eternal debtor that worships Raphael's used chamberpot. There's an action to 'use' it but tbh I was not interested in trying it out.

There is a voyeur eternal debtor that Raphael instructed to always stand outside the boudoir and watch what goes on inside but never to join. She seems pretty into it.

Most of the plaques, scrolls, books etc suggest he has a strong sense of justice and a love of rules and laws which makes sense.

As a child, Gortash was sold by his parents to Raphael to pay a debt and he was kept in the prison and regularly beaten until he escaped.

Signs letters and instructions with 'R'

Has a 100 chapter book he's written of what is essentially fanfiction-esque imaginings he has of different in which he is coronated Archdevil Supreme, one of which is of course the scenario in which you give him the crown. The book describes some different chapters as being written as though they are historical fact, others as imagined futures.

One book describes how he himself created the Orphic Hammer to be able to break any infernally created chains.

Korilla has transcribed two scrolls of conversations Raphael has had with Hope. The first of which he askes Hope to sing him a nursery rhyme. The example he gives her when Hope is confused is a suggestive rhyme.

"Little Miss Teffle, sat on her kettle, steam blowing between her lips. Along came her oven, in need of some loving, and soon she had scalded hips."

Hope sings for him a nursery rhyme from her childhood and when the song ends Raphael sighs contentedly. He's so pleased he offers her the opportunity to be master of her own fate as a reward. She calls him "Sweet Raphael" and then tells him to eat shit. He responds with what sounds like genuine shock/disappointment "But..." and Korilla describes him as looking at Hope with immense "longing and hate", then implies she'll be punished.

In the 2nd transcription Raphael torments Hope with a jar filled with nightmares. Before doing so he says "Serve me then! Damn your pride and serve me with your whole heart!" She still says no, and he is disappointed and calls her naughty.

Oh also, he calls Hope by the pet name Sweetling, describes her as "my tenacious petal clinging to the flower despite winter, nature, and all common sense", and he also calls her 'dear one'

If you talk to Korilla she says Hope is Raphael's 'favourite toy', Raphael offered Hope "the world, but she didnt want it. He sweetened the deal; she said no. No matter how many times he upped the ante, she just laughed in his face. He didn't like that."

Korilla goes on to say "Eventually, he took her by force. Trapped her and swore he wouldn't let her go 'til she gave him what he wanted."

#bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #bg3 raphael #bg3 hope #bg3 Korilla #house of hope #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 raphael #bg3

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ghostchems · 6 months

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Raphael teasing a naughty little mouse 🐭 (if you feel up to it!)

a/n: here we aaaare. a lil suggestive but nothing too spicy i think :) raphael is just... a stinker. but ya know what maybe mouse also is kinda stinky. so uhhhhh... about 700 words of stinky.

There’s not much stopping you from lunging across his desk and grabbing him by the chin to force him to look you in the eye — to finally give you the attention you’ve been so desperately craving. He hasn’t looked up at you once or acknowledged your presence in any way since you strolled into The Archive. Which is cruel in itself because of the big todo that was made to announce he was coming Home. The organs rang out through the House of Hope, the lights dimming in every single room and the debtors working themselves into a tizzy over it. And then he appeared without fanfare, sequestered in a nook to review paperwork from the looks of it.

Raphael has been gone for sometime and as one of his pets you haven’t been played with in a while. Most of his toys wait for him to come to them, but not you. You’re special to him. Or at least, you think you are. The two of you have a past that spans several world-ending threats, battles with a deranged cult and other side quests, some of which Raphael came to you himself to deliver. He always enjoyed the fire in your blood, the way you spoke your mind and didn’t give in so easily to him. Now, you’re enjoying your retirement with him in a twisted turn of events.

But you don’t mind. Your past lets you get away with things most of his pets don’t.

You find yourself sitting at one of his many organs, perfectly in view from his desk. Fingers tap on the fine, smooth wood, eyes fixed on him. Lips twitch into a sly smile before putting both forearms onto the keys.

BWWWAAAAAAAMMMMMM!!!!

Rage filled eyes fixate on you and you’re practically able to see the smoke coming from his ears. Makes you smile even wider.

“Here. Now.” His voice booms through the Archive, echoing from every corner. You obediently get up from the organ but take your time striding over to him. Raphael’s glares at you, eyes never leaving you and while you should be worried by his anger you can’t help but feel exhilarated. Finally — you have his attention.

“Took you long enough to — ah!” A strong hand grabs you by your waist and pulls you into his lap while his other hand snatches the back of your neck. You will never not be rendered speechless by his mere strength. Thumb presses just beneath your ear, his golden gaze staring into where you soul should be.

“Missed me, did you, pet?” Nimble fingers stroke your upper thigh, leaning in so his nose brushes along yours. “Business comes first. You should know this better than anyone.” Warm breath on your lips, Raphael’s voice no more than a deep rumble. You’re on fire for him and lean in to get a taste. He tilts his head back, just out of reach, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Come on, Raphael.” You whine and try to press in closer. He grumbles, fingers inching ever so close to your inner thigh but he stops short.

“Whine all you want, mouse. I have work to do.” One last smoldering glance before his attention turns back to the papers in front of him, removing his hands from you. No, no, this won’t do. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded. You need him badly, so much that your immediate action is to snatch him by the collar of his doublet and wrench those caramel eyes back to you.

An animalistic growl rips from his throat, his nose scrunching in annoyance. You blink and he has your hands pinned behind you back and his forehead pressed into yours, so hard that it makes your ears ring.

“Behave.” Sharp and angry against your ear, his fangs scratching the sensitive skin. “Perhaps I’ll be generous enough to offer you some relief.” Another nip and he leans back, expression back to cool and calm but you see the slight blush in his cheeks. You squirm in his grasp but it’s futile to try to break free… so you give a deep, defeated sigh as Raphael’s attention turns back to his work.

Still, you find yourself smiling. You are most certainly still special to him.

#raphael x tav #bg3 raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael request

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punderdome · 2 months

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The Fine Print: Chapter 7

Summary: Raphael and Tav share a honeymoon, and Haarlep provides her critical information to help her survive it.

[AO3]

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Chapter 7: The Honeymoon

Tav awoke groggy and naked in Raphael’s bed. Everything ached. She felt the aftereffects of Raphael’s passions between her legs, and her inner thighs were coated with a layer of dried Infernal seed. Her neck and shoulder felt raw, as she reached to lightly brush over the bite marks her husband left on her skin. Her chest felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart with a dagger before healing her poorly, leaving behind acute sensations of pain and the throb of phantom inflammation. She touched the scales on her chest where the Orb fragment used to reside.

She sat up. Raphael wasn’t present. He must be out playing with his new toys. She rose from the bed and looked down at the sheets, half expecting to see bloodstains everywhere from bites and passions and Karsite relics.

Her silk robe had been neatly left on a table by the window. She retrieved it on unsteady legs. As she donned her robe, the depth of her new reality started to dawn. How many mornings just like this was she going to have? Waking sore and alone, left to stumble back to her bedchamber. For how much of an absolute bastard Raphael could be, a piece of her missed the way Raphael held her the morning after their wedding feast.

She left his bedchamber to seek a bath in her room. She was silently praying to the entire Faerunian pantheon that she would not run into the incubus. None of them, apparently, were allowed any involvement in the Hells.

“Little Wife,” Haarlep addressed her. Tav sighed and turned around. Haarlep sauntered over to her. “I can smell the scent of the Master’s seed all over you. You walk as though you’ve been thoroughly ridden.” Their gaze burned through her. There was definitely no point in hiding it.

“My Lord Husband and I consummated our marriage contract,” she confirmed. Haarlep grinned with absolute delight.

“Come with me, Little Wife, and tell me all of the details,” they purred.

“I thought the Master specified that you weren’t allowed to play with me. Besides, I’m not in the mood. It feels like the Master of the House has repeatedly fucked me with a warhammer.”

“I never claimed to desire a playdate, Little Wife. I am only offering you a healing bath.” She weighed the options in her mind. Healing bath with Haarlep. Bath alone. Bath with a demon that could potentially offer any amount of insight into taming Raphael’s passions into something pleasurable. Bath that would be blissfully silent.

“Alright, show me the way. First, I need to find a servant to bring me some kind of breakfast.” Tav turned to locate someone, but Haarlep grabbed her wrist. They led her towards the door of the Boudoir.

“I forget sometimes that mortals lack the ability to make requests of the staff with any real efficiency,” they mused. Haarlep bowed with Raphael’s characteristic flair, and opened the door to the Boudoir for her. She was completely unsure exactly what to expect.

The Boudoir was grand with a dim, romantic lighting at the entrance. There was some sort of large in-ground bath at the center of the room, surrounded by candles and rose petals. The columns framing the bath were dark marble with gold trim. Everywhere around the room were comfortable looking carpets and pillows. A screen hid most of the back of the room and the windows from view, but Tav anticipated that was where most of the debauchery in the House truly occurred.

“Come, relax and enjoy your bath. Do not mind the voyeur debtor.” Haarlep made an absentminded gesture to a debtor who had immediately found a corner and was lying prostrate, covering their eyes. Tav gave a small sigh of relief that the prohibition towards addressing her or even looking at her was still in effect for the debtors.

Haarlep was in the Archduke’s form and quickly shed the harness they were wearing. They walked straight into the warmth of the bathing pool and relaxed at one side.

Tav hesitated before starting to untie the silk robe. “You should not worry, Little Wife, I have seen, tasted, and fucked the flesh of thousands of mortal forms. I don’t think it’s likely that there’s anything truly surprising under your robe, though Raphael clearly thinks that there is.” She shed her clothing and descended into the bath.

It was the most incredible warmth she had ever felt. The aches and pains plaguing her body immediately seemed to dissipate. She no longer felt the sting of the Orb fragment’s absence or the ache of Raphael’s machinations. She touched her neck and found that her husband’s love gnawings had healed themselves.

“Thank you,” Tav offered slowly. “This was what I needed.”

“Now, give me some of the details. Was the Master pleased?”

“I believe he enjoyed himself,” Tav was reluctant to answer too much more. She grabbed a sponge by the side of the pool and started to wash herself, starting between her legs.

“I’m sure he did,” Haarlep grinned. A maid brought in a small tray of sliced bread, fruit, and cheeses, setting it by Tav’s shoulder. She nodded quickly to Tav before exiting the room as fast as she possibly could. Tav paused her bathing to eat the plate set before her.

“Were you pleased?” Haarlep asked her directly. This had to be a trap. Raphael had mentioned that Haarlep was a gift from Mephistopheles.

“The Master of the House has kept me safe,” she offered instead of answering the question.

Haarlep laughed. “He truly did. I was forbidden from mentioning anything about you while the attachment from Cania was here. In return, Raphael offered all of them to take turns with me in the Boudoir so I could feed from their lusts. I got to play some of my favorite forms. I was an Elven maiden being defiled, a gruff and well-bearded Dwarven warrior pounding his subordinates with his giant hammer, and a Drow dominatrix who was exceedingly Drow. It was such a delightful evening. It gave me a wonderful reprieve from being you.”

The incubus grabbed a sponge and started to wash themselves, starting with their wingtips. “He loved it, when I would read to him.” Tav paused scrubbing herself clean to watch them. Haarlep slowly ran the sponge over the ridges on their chest. “The book didn’t matter, as long as it was written in Infernal.” Haarlep promptly thrust the sponge deep underwater, cleaning their nether regions in long, drawn out motions as a pleased sigh escaped their lips.

Tav rose from the bath and grabbed a towel to dry herself off. “Thank you for the bath,” she quickly offered Haarlep.

“Little Wife, you have a permanent invitation from me to bathe as often as you wish. Something tells me that you will need it.”

Tav dressed in her robe and quickly returned to her room. She summoned a maid to ask for a cup of kaeth with milk. When the hot drink was brought to her, she seated herself by the table where the ‘Histories of the Conquerings of Asmodeus’ sat only slightly read on her table. She stared at the Infernal copy laid open before her. It was going to take a long time for her to be skilled enough to read this text.

The bitterness of the kaeth failed to soothe her, and Tav immediately wished that she had ordered tea. Tea. She desperately needed tea. She went to summon the maid again.

“What can I do for you, my Lady,” her maid asked.

“I need you to bring me nara root tea,” Tav insisted quickly.

The maid looked away with a nervous glance. “I’m afraid we do not have that for you, my Lady. Is there something else I can bring you?”

“Any tea then. Thank you,” Tav responded curtly, her stomach lurching. She was going to need to have a very long talk with her dear husband.

Later in the afternoon, Tav heard a knock at her door. “My Lady, the Master of the House would like you to join him in his study.” She realized she hadn’t even dressed for the day.

“Very well,” Tav responded through the door.

She went to her wardrobe to select a dress, and her eyes went to the red one that Haarlep had commented on during their conversation on her wedding night. There was something she desperately needed from Raphael, and flirting with him might make him more inclined to deal with her.

She laced up the dress and looked at herself in the mirror. The neckline plunged too low, and the slit up the side was too high for her to wear a corset or chemise. She made a tactical decision not to wear smallclothes underneath. She applied some kohl to her eyes and didn’t bother with styling hair or applying pigment to her lips, as both were likely to be messed up again almost immediately.

Knowing where things were likely to go with what she had planned, she laid down on her bed and started to pleasure herself through the slit in her skirt.. At least this way, she would be wet enough. When she signed a contract to receive the Orphic Hammer, she didn’t think that part of the agreement would be teaching Raphael what foreplay was.

Tav made her way to the study and knocked on the door. She didn’t wait for a response before heading inside. Raphael was sitting at his desk, reading over some documents. He looked up at her and his eyes widened. His gaze roamed up and down her form several times, hungrily lingering on the plunging neckline that slightly revealed the scales down by her navel and the slit up her thigh.

“Good afternoon, dear husband,” Tav greeted. “You wished to see me?”

“Come. Sit.” Raphael purred. Tav obediently wandered over to him and sat in his lap, uncaring whether he actually meant for her to sit across from him, so they could engage in an actual discussion. Raphael’s hands immediately attached themselves to both sides of her waist, and Tav heard a long, deep inhale as he smelled her hair.

“Hells, you look stunning,” he growled in her ear before placing gentle kisses on the back of her neck, sending a shudder trailing down her back. She couldn’t let either of them get too carried away before she completed her mission.

Tav placed a chaste kiss on his jawline before rising and moving to take the chair opposite him. She crossed her legs, so the slit on her dress showed more of her upper thigh.

“So, you wanted to see me?” Tav started again, seeing tense frustration in Raphael’s jaw. She smiled innocently.

“I succeeded in removing the fragment of the Orb of Karsus from your chest. You didn’t seem to wake, so I trust you slept through its removal.”

“I was quite sore when I woke, but Haarlep treated me to a bath in the Boudoir.” The tension immediately built on Raphael’s face..

“Oh, so you met Haarlep this morning?” he inquired.

“I made my acquaintance with the incubus on our wedding night. They stopped by to welcome me to the master’s bed.” Raphael tried to keep a stony face, but hints of displeasure started to seep through the mask. “I did feel much better after the bath this morning.” Tav had thought that Raphael knew about all her conversations with his incubus and realized that the conversation was slipping into a direction that would not end in her favor.

She quickly changed the subject. “Have you repaired the Orb of Karsus?”

Raphael settled down slightly. “It’s a long and difficult process, but it should be mended within a tenday.”

“I am quite curious to see the Regalia of Karsus completed. How do you keep the Orb? Is it internal for you?” She hoped this line of questioning would relax him. Her secondary plan involved letting a breast conveniently fall out of her dress.

“I will be able to contain or remove it at will.” Tav flashed a smile.

The conversation slowed rapidly to a halt. Tav swallowed. It was now or never. She needed it as soon as possible.

“Raphael, can you get something for me?” she asked plainly. He raised an eyebrow.

“Go on,” he gestured with a sweep of his hand.

“I want some nara root for brewing into tea.” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You did sign into the contract that you would provide me with heirs,” he reminded her, his voice low.

“I know-” Tav started, her fingers lightly fidgeting with the skirt of her dress.

“The tea you request is quite at cross-purposes with that obligation. Don’t you agree?”

“I want some time to settle into life here. In the House of Hope. With you.” Tav took a long pause before continuing. “Being with child makes that process a bit more complicated for me. We can revisit the issue in a few months.”

Raphael sat back in his chair. One of his hands took a position firmly on his hip, while the other claw tapped lightly on the wood of his desk. “Well then, what do I get out of this deal?”

Despite her red dress and lack of undergarments, Tav was trapped in the weaker bargaining position now and was unlikely to reclaim a stronger position.

“What is it that you want?”

“I would propose we have a honeymoon together, seeing as you want to settle into a life with me. You will relocate into my bedchamber, and I will provide you with the nara root that you seek.” He leaned back and rested both of his hands behind his head.

Duration. More defined terms. “How long of a honeymoon, and how long will you provide me with nara root?”

“A month seems appropriate, it is the traditional length of a honeymoon.” That was definitely not enough time for Tav.

“A month for the honeymoon and a year for the nara root,” she countered quickly.

“A year? What are you to give me for that?” Raphael asked smugly. Tav immediately pulled open the neckline of her dress to expose both breasts. Raphael gave out a genuine laugh. “A very clumsy argument, my love, but effective. Very well, I agree to your terms, but I do hope you understand that our honeymoon starts now.”

Raphael quickly rose from his chair and went to meet her. Tav stood up slowly. Raphael wordlessly tranced his hands up through the slit in her skirts, expecting to find something that wasn’t there.

“You really are so naughty, my Little Mouse,” Raphael breathed as he realized she neglected smallclothes. Her breath hitched as he tested how wet she was. “My my,” his voice became a deep growl. “Someone is eager. I think I may just indulge you.”

“Don’t move,” he ordered gently. Tav wrapped her arms around Raphael’s neck. Raphael gently parted her folds and pressed one of his fingers deep into her. She was incredibly wary due to the nature of Raphael’s claws, but he was careful not to scratch. Tav let out a deep, gasping moan of pleasure that Raphael consumed greedily. He moved his finger very slowly, drawing a series of whines from his beloved wife. The second finger that he inserted drew a deep gasp. Yes, please. More of this. Her breathing became heavy, and Tav clung to the front of Raphael’s doublet for dear life.

He withdrew from her and licked her arousal from his fingers, grinning at the state he left her in.

“Shall we return to the bedchamber?” he proposed greedily. No! Put your fingers back!

“Yes,” Tav gasped out before taking the elbow Raphael offered her. Raphael’s pace was again brisk as they walked towards his bedchamber. He stole glances down her neckline to see the sides of her breasts. His breathing became significantly heavier.

They passed a doorway leading to a balcony overlooking the horizon of Avernus, and Raphael pulled her quickly outside onto the balcony. He pushed her up against the back side of the wall, and his mouth immediately claimed hers. Tav reached a hand down to feel how much he was straining his trousers, and his chest seemed to growl. Raphael’s hands went quickly down to unlace his trousers and pull them down. She did say she wasn’t going to fuck him in a hallway, but at least the balcony gave slightly more privacy, though Tav was confident all of the debtors were eagerly listening to them fuck.

Tav only had a few seconds to pull up her skirts before Raphael sheathed himself between her legs. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tightly as he fucked her into the wall. His hands tightly gripped her ass.

Raphael had lost all control over himself. Each thrust was hard and unrelenting, and the moans he made were loud and throaty. He grinded against her clit each time he thrust, and Tav leaned into the pleasurable pressure of having him inside her. More.

“This feels so good,” Tav moaned, not caring about the uneven surface of the brickwork digging into the small of her back. Raphael growled in response.

His thrusts grew harder and sharper. After a few more thrusts, Raphael moaned deeply into her ear as he came. Tav could feel his hot seed dripping out of her. So close. She unwrapped her legs from his waist and he set her down gently. Raphael kissed her again, and when he broke the kiss, he stared deeply into her eyes.

His gaze was filled with adoration and freshly-satiated lust. He cupped her cheek. “My wife,” was all he said before dressing again, and they departed for his bedchamber. His seed was dripping warmly down the inside of her thighs.

Raphael opened the doors to his chambers and bowed grandly, allowing Tav to enter first. There was a snap and the dozens of candles around the room instantly went aglow.

Raphael closed the door behind them, before roughly scooping her into his arms and depositing her roughly on the bed. His hands worked deftly on the laces to her dress, removing it as quickly as he could. He snapped his fingers and his clothes disappeared, leaving them both naked with one of them eagerly planning another round.

Raphael climbed on top of her and didn’t even bother kissing her before entering her again. He was rough and hard with each thrust. While Tav was still slick with arousal and seed, the depth and angle led to some discomfort as he hit her cervix. He was clearly still excited from their round of lovemaking on the balcony, and it didn’t take long before he was spilling himself inside her again.

Raphael rolled off of her onto his back. Tav was sore and sticky and definitely not wanting to go again. He pulled her over to him, so that her head rested on his warm chest. His wing hugged her tightly and his tail wrapped gently around her ankle. He gave a long deep hum of approval. “Such a pleasurable deal we made, my dearest. Should you wish to extend the duration of our honeymoon, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Tav mumbled absently.

“I am, my love.” His response was low and smooth.

His breathing started to slow, and Tav saw that he was falling asleep. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but Raphael’s tail and arm held her tightly against him. With a sigh of exasperation, Tav closed her eyes and tried to rest. She could feel his deep, slow breaths in his chest below her. Sleep not coming, she gently traced the Infernal ridges on his chest.

A bath in the Boudoir sounded heavenly right now. She wanted to wash off the seed and sweat. Laying next to him like this, Tav just felt used. A bath and a meal would make her feel like a person again.

With great effort, she managed to disentangle herself from Raphael’s grasp and unwound his tail from her leg. She crawled off of the bed and found her discarded dress. She slipped it back on and made her way to the Boudoir.

“Little Wife!” Haarlep exclaimed with glee. “I am so glad to see you. Are you here for another bath?”

“Yes,” Tav stripped off the dress and unabashedly climbed into the pool. She floated in the water for a while, trying to relax. She closed her eyes and let the healing water do its work to restore her to pristine condition.

When she opened her eyes, Haarlep was standing over her with a wide grin on their face.

“He does so enjoy playing with you, doesn’t he, Little Wife?”

“He doesn’t seem to like you talking to me, though,” Tav noted. She began to wash her hair using some of the oils at the edge of the bath.

“The Master prefers to keep his toys separate and orderly.” Haarlep dangled their legs in the water.

“He’s already forbidden you from touching me, so what exactly is he afraid of?” Tav rinsed out her hair and grabbed a sponge to wash her body.

“Haven’t you already guessed that, Little Wife? We both exist for his pleasure. We don’t exist for ourselves. We are contracts and that is all we will ever be.”

Tav nodded quietly before getting out of the bath to dry off. She dressed and went back to her room without another word. She found a comfortable silk nightdress that was at least slightly modest that she could change into. She covered it with the red robe.

Tav went to her mirror and took a solid look at herself. She was a far cry from what she was before. She missed her blue sorceress robes and her companions and camping out in the wilderness. She missed the university and spending tendays reading in the library from dawn until dusk. She missed her small rented apartment that was entirely filled with books and an herb garden.

Now here she was: no longer Tavara Aureum but instead the Archduke of Avernus’s wife.

She looked over at her nightstand where the ring box sat unopened. She sighed and lifted the lid. Inside was a silver and sapphire ring with imprints of dragon scales embedded into the metal. She slipped it on her ring finger.

Tav returned back to Raphael’s chambers, hoping he was still asleep. His eyes opened when she shut the door behind her. He sat up and saw her standing in the doorway, significantly more dressed than when fell asleep.

“Dearest Mouse, where did you scurry off to?” Raphael questioned playfully.

“I went to clean myself up a little, so I returned to my room,” Tav carefully left out the part about the Boudoir.

Raphael climbed out of bed and snapped to dress again in his doublet, looking pristine and refreshed. “Come, my dear,” he motioned to the settee. She settled next to him.

“Do you want to take our evening meal in the dining hall or eat here in your chambers?” Tav asked him.

“It would be nice to seclude ourselves here for an evening.” Tav smiled and nodded at him. Raphael snapped. “I informed the staff to serve us here.”

“That sounds nice.”

Raphael noticed her left hand and quickly grabbed it to get a better look. “You’re wearing your ring,” he started to muse. “I hope you find the design to your tastes.”

“Thank you, it suits me very well,” Tav complimented his choice.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. Raphael waved his hand and the door opened on its own. Several valets entered and quickly set two table placings at a dining table on the other side of his chambers. Another brought wine and goblets. Several small plates of various dishes quickly followed before all of them scurried out of the room. One final maid entered and left a stoppered brown bottle in the center of the table before leaving.

Tav took his elbow quickly as they went to eat, and Raphael gave an affectionate chuckle. They seated themselves at the table. The meal was much simpler than the previous two evenings, but that suited Tav just fine. Raphael poured them goblets of wine. Tav took portions of the sliced beef roast, rich buttery potatoes, and braised greens. Raphael continued his carnivorous streak.

Tav raised a goblet. “A toast?”

“To?” Raphael waited for her to continue.

“Our honeymoon,” she suggested. He grinned.

“To our honeymoon,” he agreed and they clinked their glasses and drank.

The dinner conversation was pleasant enough. When they were finished eating, Raphael motioned to the brown bottle. “The tea you requested, my dear.” Tav picked up the bottle and removed the stopper. Sure enough, she recognized the nara root tea to prevent conception. The earthy scent and taste of dirt were unmistakable. Gale had spent many tendays brewing different batches and trying to make it more palatable for her. He tried other herb mixtures, honey, and milk. Mint improved the taste slightly as did brandy, but neither could completely remove the taste of soil. The tea had gone tepid, but she drank it down without complaint.

There was a snap and all the dishes and excess food disappeared. “Shall we play a game of Lanceboard?” Raphael offered.

“I suspect I will be learning some new openings,” Tav joked.

“I will not, as I am already quite familiar with your openings,” Raphael quipped back. As much as she tried to hold back, a laugh escaped from her lips.

Raphael kept a Lanceboard set on a shelf and they set up the board together.

“White or black?” Tav offered, holding out two pawns of the different colors.

“I believe your scales indicate the color you should play,” Raphael countered.

Tav was by no means an expert at Lanceboard, and she knew she was likely to lose as soon as they sat down. She was competent enough to have beaten Gale a few times, but Raphael had millennia of practice and had probably seen every possible combination of gameplay. His moves were calculated and precise as they played.

“Checkmate in three,” Raphael offered slyly.

Tav studied the board, considering the different options. “Son of a bitch!” she exclaimed before resigning and giving a big sigh. “Well played, husband.”

“I would like my spoils,” he said smoothly.

“What spoils, aren’t we playing for fun?”

“Your robe, dearest. Take it off.” Tav removed the silk robe, leaving her down to her nightdress. The fact that Raphael was fully dressed put her at an extreme disadvantage. She was certain Raphael saw no disadvantages to this situation.

He reset the board with a snap. “Again?”

Tav grumbled, she was going to beat that smarmy asshole husband of hers and get just his doublet. Fuck.

She performed better the second game, having seen how Raphael played in their first match. She took more of his pieces and tried to set up a gambit, but he clearly recognized immediately what she was doing. He moved his Razor’s Edge diagonally and gave a grin.

“Checkmate in two.”

“Fuck!” Tav exclaimed, realizing the trap he had set for her. The trap he had set for her. She needed a trap she could set for him.

Haarlep had told her that he liked it when she read to him in Infernal. Perhaps it was time to experiment.

Tav switched into Infernal with the best translation into Devilish that she could manage. “Well played, my dear husband.”

It was like a switch flipped in Raphael’s mind. His mouth went slightly slack. “I suppose I need to remove this,” she continued to flirt in the language of the Hells. Her nightdress came off over her head.

Raphael immediately picked her up and carried her to the bed. He could barely snap his fingers to disrobe, he was so excited. He kissed and caressed quickly and eagerly. Tav tried to bring his fingers down to stroke her clit, but he was surprisingly resistant to her instruction on how to please her. Foreplay was short, as was his number of thrusts before he came. He kissed her deeply and curled his body around her as they prepared to sleep.

Haarlep wasn’t lying about the Master's preferences. A plan formed in Tav’s mind.

Tomorrow, she was going to visit the Archivist.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #bg3 the fine print

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