#i literally deal with clients that act like this

[royal-harpy]

I think its interesting fr staff is still extremely uncommunicative with the community. I don’t want a whole Q&A session or anything but a clear road map or even little updates would work. Gene fixes are obviously something that may need a general list and such cause wow that’s a hot topic recently.

A clearer and better direction with gene fixes is when a breed is released, look at the general bugs reported and then a list is made. Internal discussion about it refines the list and then to the community, you release a general list of the bugs seen on genes that will be fixed. No need for deadlines on this list, just make it so people are aware of it.

what you should NOT do is make a vague comment for a gene fix and also make that fix happen months after the gene/breed is out. Even if someone reported it on the bug fourms, its not exactly a good way to predict a fix being made. God there’s still issues with modern breed genes, there’s no general time frame atm.

[especdreamy]

Being Autistic and trying to eat food thata not make at home can be so uncomfortable

I have a very small variety of what i enjoy to eat, EVEN SMALLER when i'm at a restaurant. Sometimes when I feel safe enough to ask for something other than french fries, and get a more personalized order, I ALWAYS get A Look from the server and they always try to push me to eat something more "traditional".

I try order plain pizza for myself because I dislike the texture of any toppings (beside the salsa and cheese yk) and I have to repeat several times that no, I do not want extra cheese, I do not want herbs on it, just give me the plain pizza plase.

I hate the fact that IF I want to order pizza I HAVE to do it on phone because the pizza place I like has no option to ask for a plain pizza in wensite/app.

I once tried to order plain pasta, no sauce at all, when I got my dish they had put butter sauce on it - I get that it was a simple thing but at the same time it wasn't something I could eat anymore. The smell of the sauce was reminiscent of meat and it made me sick to my stomach.

It's just. It can always be so hard to ask for food thats able to accommodate for me. Sometimes I just want to give up and ask for french fries again.

[strawberrydolly333]

POV: rafe and his needy girl

18+ only, daddy kink, fingering

dating rafe had its own perks. being able to get your hands on all the makeup, clothes, shoes, and bags, literally anything you could ever ask for.

you spotted something on the display window that caught your eye? it's on your doorstep the next day. your favorite makeup brand launched a new lip product? you're wearing it the next day after rafe stopped by sephora to get it for you.

despite getting spoiled by the eldest cameron, it also meant that rafe had to work extra hard, especially if you wanted to afford the things that you asked for. even if that meant not paying attention to you when you had your moments.

"rafey!" you whined, holding onto your pink rabbit jellycat. he has been busy all day! he hardly noticed you and has practically been ignoring you.

rafe was on the phone, dealing with a client as he noticed you walking over to him. he paid no attention as he continued talking on the phone.

letting out a huff, you climbed on his lap, stroking his cheek. he swatted your hand away, pulling the phone away from his ear for a second "kid, i'm busy. i'll hang out with you when i'm finished" he said sternly before placing the phone by his ear again.

you being the impatient, needy, and impulsive person you were, you thought it was a great idea to lean up against the phone and moan into it.

in an instant, rafe pulled you back, putting the phone on mute and disabling the mic while still listening to the person on the other end "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he hissed as he gripped onto your chin tightly.

you let out a whine, pouting "been busy all day... missed you daddy" hearing the neediness laced in your voice, he let out a smirk "yeah? so you think it's okay to do this shit while i'm busy?" he asked, hands trailing inside of your skirt moving down to your underwear. "i'm trying to make some goddamn money for us. and you wanna act like this?"

you let out a moan as you felt his large hand slide past your underwear and insert two fingers inside of your wet hole "daddy... hhh i'm sticky" you whined leaning against his chest as you grabbed his bicep for support.

he laughed, finding the sight of you all needy entertaining. "yeah, take it baby. after i finish this call, m'gonna make sure i fuck you so stupid, you forget your own name" he whispered in your ear as he pumped an additional finger inside of your sopping pussy.

[risingmoonyue]

Tried my hand at redesigning Lucy from Fairy Tail! Notes and separate images under the cut.

[EDIT: I now have another post for more notes and world building!]

I wanted to give her a little more “working towards casual” vibes, because I wish it was explored a little more how being raised rich affected her behavior - or rather, how she *doesn’t* act. I HC she spent the time pre-Natsu but post running away kinda training herself to not default to rich, polite heiress. There was a lot of people watching involved. She may or may not have a notebook titled “How to people”. When she’s really tired or stressed, she’ll fall back on talking formally, though she usually catches herself fairly quickly by the time Natsu bulldozes his way into her life. She prefers talking casually, but the formal speech comes in useful when dealing with particularly picky rich clients (or royalty).

(On a completely unrelated note if anyone has fics along this vein send them my way)

Anyways I like to think my version has a very close, familial relationship with all her spirits. She’ll call one out most days, even just to hang and talk for a while. It very conveniently doubles as stamina training for her - not that she actually needs the excuse, but if she does happen to need one that’s her go-to. They are all very protective of her, especially Aquarius, who despite how it seems cares very much for Lucy and basically helped raise her after Layla passed. Lucy appreciated how Aquarius treats her like literally anyone, and Aquarius is her go to for life advice; Aquarius herself has a habit of accosting the other spirits as they come back for status updates.

[absfawn]

more lawyer!abby pleaseeeeeeee

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐘𝐄𝐑!𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 | 03.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PART ONE | PART TWO

mwah mwah, course baby. sorry it’s late, I got a little lost on what to add :( ♡

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby will always get a tie the same color as your own outfit choice if she takes you out for a meal. She either has to match you or will make a big deal out of it, refusing to leave the house until she’s found something that exactly matches.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby is thankful when you’re there to help her when she’s getting stressed out. Her job is hard, and sometimes she puts herself down when she feels like she can’t do anything to help someone, and that’s when you step in, quick to remind her that she is doing amazing and she can do it.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby owns many cars. Cheap and expensive, she doesn’t really care much about them but she is always thankful that they have tinted windows because she’s a risky woman, and no matter where she goes or what she’s up to, she can’t help herself when she slides her hand up your thigh, gripping the flesh tightly while in the middle of a phone call, enjoying the way you squirm on the seat and suck in a breath through your teeth, clenching your legs around her hand when they make their way to where you need her.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby who has fucked you in pretty much every car she owns. She simply doesn’t care about when and where. You always look so fuckin’ pretty and she can’t keep her hands off you. You could simply be eating an ice cream and that would turn her on, and end up with the both of you in the back seat of her car with her fingers so deep in your cunt that all you can do is grip tightly onto her expensive suit jacket, and bite down on her shoulder. Even though she hates it when you try hiding your pretty sounds.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby brags about you to everyone she works with or meets at a meeting. Shit, she doesn’t even care if its a new client she’s met, she will mention how it was you who helped her pick out a certain suit or it was you who picked up this new coffee she was trying. Abby brought you up in every conversation, even during the long hours she was sat setting up and helping with a new case. You were on her mind 24/7.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby spends a lot of free time looking at engagement rings. She knows she wants to marry you and spend the rest of her life with you, but sometimes she doesn’t know which ring to buy because in her mind, you deserve every single one and more.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby loves it when you cuddle her. There is something about having her face tucked in the crook of your neck after a long day, some old clothes on her body, a movie on the TV with your fingers running through her hair that has her content, comfortable, and warm. She hated being away from you for such long hours but she cherished when she could finally be home with you.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby enjoys when you cook her meals, but also adores being able to cook them for you after you’ve had a hard day at work. The woman will literally be by the door when you stumble in, hands already working on removing your coat for you and handing you a glass of wine while she waits for the food she prepared for you, to cook in the oven. 

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby who yes, will daydream about starting a family with you. It’s not something she’s ready to bring up in conversation just yet though in case you weren’t ready for it, but she’s always imaging what it would be like to come home, find you and your child in the living room, watching a movie or even in the kitchen, baking cookies or whatever you wanted to make that day.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby acts like a literal child on Christmas day when you buy her any kind of new book. She’s a book worm and that’s actually how she first met you, so it makes you happy when her eyes light up and she’s taking the fragile book from your hands with the utmost care and examining the cover, the back, as well as the pages inside.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby has no shame in eyeing you up whenever you’re sitting on her office, neatly resting on one of the chairs opposite her desk. She doesn’t even hide the fact she wants nothing more than to either have you perched on her desk with her face between your thighs or have you bent over the wooden surface, and working her strap in your cunt.

[monzabee]

how you get the girl – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and your boyfriend Charles attend a gala for a friend and run into Harry Styles – who happens to be your ex. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a past break-up, jealousy, possessive charles, angst? (only if you squint, or maybe not I don’t know), charles being charles, google translate French, anger?

Request: “Can I request a Charles fanfic with angst? Maybe famous singer reader used to date someone really famous like Harry styles and they run into Harry and Charles is really jealous and acting up/mad?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this is my first time writing a fic, so all feedback is welcome and appreciated. i liked the idea that the anon named harry so i used him, but also i had to include taylor swift some way because she is the literal best. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” You sigh, fixing the way the neckline of your dress looks and meeting the eyes of your boyfriend through the mirror. “I know you’d rather be relaxing tonight than entertaining people.” 

Charles smiles softly as he keeps his eyes focused on yours, the green in his eyes shining just a little bit brighter due to the afternoon sun shining through the hotel room window. He abandons his place on the edge of the bed and comes closer to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Are you trying to convince me to stay back, or convince yourself, chérie?”

His question brings a mischievous smile on your lips and you shrug your shoulders with faux innocence as you lean your head back on the Monegasque’s shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, chéri.” Your use of the pet name he taught you when the two of you first went on a date makes him let out a laugh – well, you don’t know if it is because of your use or your pronunciation or your use of the word in general, but you’re hoping for the latter. 

“Well, I think you are.” He takes your hand in his and slowly moves you from your place in front of the mirror. “And it’s not going to work, because you—”

“Promised Helen we’d be there. I know, I know.” You huff, shaking out of his grasp and fixing his bowtie with a small frown on your face as you mumble, “I thought you F1 drivers would be into breaking the rules, but no, I had to find the only decent one.” 

Charles chuckles as he places his hands back onto your waist as you continue your mission with a relentless sense of seriousness. “Aw, you think I’m decent?” 

An urgency to smile snakes up onto your lips because of his question but you try to refrain yourself from doing so by twisting your lip, “Shut up, Charles.” 

“I think you’re decent as well,” he takes a moment to think with an exaggerated expression, “pretty, too.” 

You smile at your handiwork as you pat his bowtie twice and place your hands on the sides of your hips. “Is this your way of saying I look nice?”

He shakes his head and starts walking you towards the door, picking up your coat and bag, and ignoring your protests along the way. “But, yes of course. However, we need to go right now if you don’t want to make Helen angry at you for being late.” 

“At me?” You ask, confused. 

Charles laughs. “Well, yes, chérie. She loves me too much to get mad at me. You’ll have fun once we go inside.” 

By the time the two of you arrive at the gala, Charles has managed to uplift your mood (mostly by promising you pizza and sweets after the two of your leave the event). When you get to Royal Albert Hall, Helen welcomes you with a big smile and open arms. The three of you decide to grab drinks together at the bar and talk about the event, your latest recording deal, Charles’ upcoming season, and Helen’s new client who is a “twat-waffle in skinny jeans, but don’t worry about me, honey, I’ve seen worse.” She leaves the two of you to welcome newcomers, who are probably looking at her to congratulate her on the event. You place your glass on the bar and turn to face Charles, who is looking at you with a small smirk on his face. 

You sigh exaggeratedly and tilt your head to the side. “Fine, you were right, this is fun.” 

He matches your sigh, although with a lighter tone to it. “I know, I love being right.” He quickly finishes the rest of his drink and gets up from his place to offer you his hand. “Now, chérie, allons-nous danser?” Shall we dance? You nod your head, giggling as you take his hand and allow him to pull you onto the dance floor. With the alcohol coursing through your veins, you think this might be the perfect night. 

You and Charles dance through what feels like a hundred songs, but in reality, you lose the count after the third slow-paced song because the DJ decides he’s had enough of the slow songs for the evening and moves onto the fast-paced ones. Both of you jump up and down to the rhythm of the music as best as you can in your choice of heels for the evening, and Charles is there with you to do the same. He nudges your shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows when the DJ decides to play one of your recent songs, not shy to let the people around you know that it is your song. “That’s my girlfriend’s song!” he says, “Yes! It’s the new one!” 

After the previous song finishes, the two of you decide to retire for a bit, walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. You turn to Charles when you hear him chuckling and find him shaking his head. “Hey, what are you laughing at?” 

“You look like a tomato, mon amour.” He’s quick to add, “A very cute one at that.” 

You let out a shocked gasp, swatting lightly at his chest to cease his laughs. “It’s not funny! I never make fun of you after your races, even if you do look like a tomato.” 

“That is not true, and you know it.” His laughter continues, making you join him and soon after both of you are laughing uncontrollably; with you leaning against the railing of the balcony and him with his arms placed on either side of you to cage you in. After your laughter dies down, leaving you both in heaving breaths in to calm yourselves, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places it onto your shoulders. 

You gaze up at him, softly smiling through your lashes. “Thank you, my love.”  

You press your lips against the corner of his mouth, but he is quick to capture your lips in his, and his eyes are the last thing before you close yours as he starts kissing you. His hands quickly start moving and he drags them up your body to cradle your face between his hands as he deepens the kiss. You let out an involuntary whimper, in which he responds by gently tugging at your lower lip. In an attempt to bring him closer, you slip your fingers through the belt loops of his dress pants, which thankfully is not occupied by a belt. Charles’ response is to bring your face even closer as he keeps kissing you. The two of you don’t realise the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. 

“Oh, God, sorry.” A voice interrupts, and you quickly separate from each other, albeit a little bit unwillingly. You inhale deeply to regulate your irregular breathing, and let out a gasp as your eyes fall onto the intruder. Just as you are about to open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I can’t believe it, hi Y/N, it’s been ages!” 

Although Charles’ eyebrows furrow, he keeps his gaze focused on you only to turn around to face the intruder once you say, “Hi, Harry, it’s been a while!” He gives him a once over, keeping his hands on your waist as the two of you talk about the lost time. And yes, while Charles can be a jealous man – just like any other guy in a relationship who is as besotted with their partner as he is with you – he never considers himself to be possessive. He even likes Harry’s music, he mostly encounters the songs at the paddock before a race or after while doing media stuff, but he doesn’t have any issues regarding his music or him in general just because he is dating you because he is secure in your relationship to know just how much you love and respect him and the same goes for you. But standing there with you leaning against him while talking to your ex-boyfriend, yes he know he is your ex-boyfriend like the rest of the world thanks to your very public break-up, he just wants to take you away from there any to anywhere where the two of you can be alone. 

You leap off the railing you were leaning against when you feel Charles’ hands tightening on your waist and move one of your hands to cover his as you give him a slight squeeze. “This is Charles, my boyfriend.” 

He watches as you give him a polite smile and attempts to do the same, but it reality his probably comes-off as a strained one. Harry offers him a handshake as he smiles at him, “Hello, nice to meet you.” And then, he watches as the Brit turns his attention once against to you. 

“We missed you at the awards this season, you didn’t attend any of them!” Harry chuckles, shaking his head a little. 

You shrug and answer him with the same polite smile on your face. “Well, you know me, never been fan of the award shows in the first place.” 

Charles knows this, of course he does, because whenever someone starts to ask you about award season in the first place, you let them know that the awards are not the reason you write songs in the first place – the fans are. He tunes most of your conversation out as his insecurities take over his thoughts, he thinks it is funny in a way because your relationship might be the only one where he has felt like he could be himself without worrying about what you might think. Just as he is about the calm his fears by the logical side of his brain reasoning and telling him that he should probably stop acting like a fool, he hears Harry asking you about a song on your album which makes him throw all the rationality he has out the metaphorical window. 

“I-uh, I listened to your new album, it was very good.” Harry says. 

A wide smile finds a place on your face. “Oh, thank you, Harry! It’s nice to hear that.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I liked that one song the most, what’s it called, How You Get the Girl?” He thinks quietly for a split second. “Oh whatever – it was very good. But tell me the truth, was it or was it not about me?” 

“Sorry, can’t tell you that, it’s a secret.” You laugh. And he laughs. And Charles only watches the scene before him without being able to say anything because he is swarmed by all the thoughts he tried so hard pushing out of his head coming back. You must’ve notice his drastic change in mood because you excuse the two of you saying that you’re feeling a little bit cold.

“Oh sure, it was nice seeing you again.” Harry smiles at you, and then addresses Charles, “It was also nice meeting you, Charles. Take care of my girl, eh?” 

“You too, Henry.” Charles replies, without filtering his response in his head and hangs his head low to avoid any awkwardness. 

You wait until the Brit leaves the balcony and then focus on the man in front of you, “Charles–” you start, but he cuts you off with a low voice. 

“Can we just go home?” He inhales deeply. “Please.”  

Needless to say, the car ride home is quiet and tense. Charles acts like he doesn’t care, but you know deep inside that he is bothered by what happened and is probably overthinking the entire situation. The one thing you are grateful for is the fact that you didn’t drive to the venue but instead opted for a car service, thinking that you’d both be drunk by the time event ended. However in reality, neither of you are drunk and you are fairly sure Helen is going to send you a very angry text the next morning because you left early. When the driver announces that you’ve arrived at the hotel, Charles thanks him before exiting the car and you do the same before you lean over to open your door, but Charles is quicker than you and he does it for you. 

He is quiet the entire way up to your hotel room, but he has an arm around you and you place your hand right on top of his in an attempt to sooth whatever negative emotions he is feeling at the moment. He is also quiet when you get to your room, and he helps you pull off your coat and his jacket underneath the coat. He smiles for a split second, seeing his oversized jacket on your frame, but the seriousness returns as he helps you out of it. 

“Charles,” you say his name, “please talk to me.” 

“I’m okay, chérie.” He sighs and places a small kiss to you forehead. “I’m going to take a shower before bed, okay?” He leaves before giving you an opportunity to speak, and you are left behind, thinking about the last time he called you that pet name a few hours ago, and how he was smiling.

Instead of pushing him to talk about his feelings you decide to let him cool down, hoping that he would be more open to having a conversation about what happened after his shower. So, you take of your shoes and your dress – although you struggle to find the zipper for a while – and you take of your make up on the small vanity the hotel provided for you after you put on your pyjamas for the night. By the time Charles is out of his shower, you are waiting for him sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your fingers. 

“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” He mumbles, weaving his hands through his wet hair. 

You can’t help the small frown etching on your face. “We never go to bed angry at each other.” 

You can see the change in his eyes, but even though his eyes soften at the sight of you, his tone is firm when he tells you, “I’m not angry at you, Y/N.” 

“See, I find it hard to believe that right about now.” You mumble, your eyes falling on your lap for a second. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Just go to sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“What? Why?” You ask, your voice wavering at the last syllable. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m just going to go over some statistics in the living room.” He doesn’t look at you, or let you protest. He picks up his computer from the abandoned backpack in the corner of the room and presses another light kiss to your forehead before going into the living room to try to get rid of the anger by working it off. 

And thus, you try to go to sleep – mainly because you know just how stubborn Charles is. His mother always tells you stories about when he was a kid and refused to go to bed in his pyjamas because he didn’t want to take off his karting suit. But you see how much he’s stubborn every single day, when he makes you get out of bed in crack-dawn of the day because you told him you wanted to start exercising with a “no, mon amour, you said you wanted to start running!”, or when he makes you eat your vegetables because “you can’t live off of chicken nuggets for the rest of your life, you’re in your twenties!”. But most importantly, you see how stubborn he is every time he pushes himself to be better; a better man, a better son, a better driver and even a better boyfriend. So, it breaks your heart to think that he is outside the doors of the bedroom, alone and contemplating things he shouldn’t have to because he knows just how much you love him. So, you get out of the bed, which isn’t very hard in the first place because it feels too empty and cold without Charles in it, and you march your way through the bedroom doors and into the living room where a certain green-eyed Monegasque driver is hunched over his computer in the low light. 

He looks up and his eyes go wide when he spots you, sleep evident in your eyes and there is a permanent pout on your lips. There is a silent communication between the two of you as he pushes his chair slight off the table for you to place yourself on his lap and consequently wrapping yourself around his sitting figure. 

“Chérie, you should be sleeping, it’s late.” He speaks in a low voice, encouraging you to go to sleep, but you know him well enough to read between the lines. 

Your voice comes of muffled because you cuddle against the side of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep because someone refuses to talk about his feelings and made me become accustomed to his cuddles over the past year and a half.” 

“Mon amour,” he sighs, “I am fine, you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?” 

There isn’t any emotional strain in his voice, unlike before, but you still don’t like the fact that he refuses to acknowledge his feelings. So instead of pushing, you pick your head up again and focus on his green eyes, “You called me by my name, and you never call me by my name unless I’ve done something wrong.” 

“That’s not true.” His voice comes off as a whisper this time. 

“It is and you know it.” You untangle one of your arms from around his neck to cradle his jaw and let your finger wander around. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong so that I can fix it.” You think for a moment. “S'il vous plait.” Please. 

Charles lets out a frustrated breath and tightens his arms around your frame – involuntarily, or maybe not, but who cares, really? “It’s mine,” He grumbles. 

“What is?” You ask, tilting your head with genuine curiosity. 

“The song.” Now it is Charles’ turn to pout. “It’s my song, you wrote it for me. I was there when you recorded it and you told me so.” 

“Oh, Charles.” You coo, bringing your other hand up to his face and gently caressing his face as you straighten yourself up on his lap. “It is about you, my love, he was just joking.” 

You let out a chuckle as you hear him mumble, “Well, it wasn’t funny to me.” 

“Is this about more than the song?” You ask, continuing the movement of your hands. You smile as he lets out a dissenting mumble, “Good, because I would hate it if you thought I have eyes for anyone other than you.” 

“You would?” He mumbles, leaning into your touch. 

“Oh yes, I would be very upset.” You nod, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And Charles?” You ask. 

“Yes, chérie?” He asks right back, his eyes not leaving yours even for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

“It’s not your fault,” His eyes become serious for a second again, but they soften at the sight of you quickly. “Don’t blame yourself, chérie.” He mumbles as he kisses you softly on your lips. “Okay?”

“But still,” You mumble, “I’m sorry for making you feel that way.” 

He sighs, but it is not a sad sigh like before. Which makes you think it is an improvement. “I’m sorry I can’t write songs about you.”

“What?” You ask, voice shaky. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not– I can’t put my feelings into words that way.” His hands occupy themselves with the string of your pyjama pants. 

“I don’t need you to write me songs, Charles, and I don’t want you to change.” You press soft kisses around his face, making him smile involuntarily. “I love you just the way you are, you stubborn stubborn man.” You thing he’s about to say something, but can’t finish your train of thought because suddenly you’re being lifted off the chair and you’re in the air. You let out a shriek, “What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to bed,” Charles replies, and rolls his eyes as your expression changes. “To sleep,” he emphasises the second word, “méchante fille” naughty girl. You laugh as he puts you back on your side of the and tucks you in before turning off the lights and getting into the bed himself. He is quick to pull you towards his arms and cuddle you under his weight, which you’ve become accustomed to and helps you sleep better. “Go to sleep, mon amour.” He kisses you on your forehead again. 

“Charles?” You ask into the night, and continue once he lets out an affirmative hum. “Je t'aime.” I love you.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” I love you too, my love. You hear him say as you’re falling to sleep. “Tu es l'amour de ma vie.” You’re the love of my life.

[arreuyas]

HOW MUCH? | Toji X Male! Reader

*⁠.⁠✧ In which he was paid to kill you but you offer him to get fucked instead.

warnings: sub!toji, degradation, edging, spanking/slapping, choking, bratty toji, cursing, toji is a bit out of character tbh, zenin bc he doesn't have megumi and his wife here.

wordcount: 1.8k

—

TOJI ZENIN, the sorcerer killer, doesn't do any extra work for free. But it's not against his rules to accept a request from a client who is a sorcerer. He doesn't question his client's motives or what they are after all, what matters it the good ol' money.

That's why, when he had a gun aimed at your head and you smirked instead of trying to doge or counter-attack like most sorcerers would do, he raised an eyebrow until the words left your lips: “How much for getting laid by me? I'll pay double of what you're going to get.”

Of course, betraying his clients is one thing that he doesn't do. So yes, he did shoot you, pissed off that those were your last words— or were supposed to be, since the bullet didn't get through your head at all. His eyes widened when you appeared in front of him, hands in your pockets and eyes of someone who wasn't planning to fight him.

“C'mon, don't be like that~” you smiled, your sneaky hand going to his waist and bringing him closer. At this point Toji was so dumbfounded that he took some time to understand what was happening. It was the first time his target flirted with him so blatantly, after all. “How about three times the price, then? Three times the amount and you let me fuck you once.”

Three times the price of your head... it was big money, and it certainly catched his interest. It's not like Toji minded sleeping with men after all, the problem was betraying his client. “And an extra so you can kill whoever it was who asked for my head.”

Alright, that was enough to convince a money-hungry like Toji. He lowered his gun, still a but uncertain about the deal but fuck it, he would think about the consequences later. You smirked with that reaction from the non-sorcerer.

That's how you two ended up in a hotel room, Toji sitting down on your lap, straddling with that big ass of his. You already had a prominent bulge on your pants as the Zenin rubbing his covered rear and dick against your thigh, letting out some grunts between his heavy breaths from time to time.

Fucking humiliating. It was what Toji thought. He was literally acting like a whore— moving himself on top of you for some money. Well, at least the money was way higher than what a whore would get, but still...

“Damnit, stop fucking teasing me.” He protested when you started pinching his exposed nipples, another grunt coming from him as his body trembled. That bulky man wasn't used to having anyone touching him like that, he usually was the one who held the reins in bed.

“What, can't handle a bit of teasing, sorcerer killer?” You chuckled, rubbing the wet spot on his boxers, the pre-cum leaking out his tip already.

“Can't you just fuck me already–” You stopped his words with a rough spank on his ass, making him shut up with a groan. One of his hands instinctively moving to hold your shoulder.

“Shut up, slut.” You hissed, taking him off your lap and throwing him in bed. Then you unbuckled your belt, glaring down at him. “Take off your pants and spread your legs for me.”

Toji was about to complain but instead he rolled his eyes and obliged the command, getting himself naked. Yet, he didn't spread his legs, receiving a sigh from you. You got on top of the bed, your hand moving to his neck before he could react and gripping tightly on it, chocking him just slightly.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?” You gripped tighter on his neck but Toji kept glaring at you, a hand on your wrist threatening to break your arm. “Unless you want to forget about the money and fight me instead. And believe me when I tell you I'm going to make you fight while being naked.”

He let go with a groan, and you let his neck free again— a reddish mark of your digits on the skin of his neck and you liked it. When you looked down, Toji's dick was twitching and more precum was leaking from it, then you chuckled with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Someone likes getting choked and degraded? Such a whore.”

You grabbed a lube from the bedside table, pouring the liquid on your fingers and some on Toji's rear, then watching it go down to the entrance of his ass, his naughty hole blinking. You didn't wait much though, there was no reason to be gentle with him— and you knew that Toji would prefer that way, too. So you immediately inserted two fingers inside, already moving them to loosen him up. Toji grunted, biting his lower lip with his eyebrows furrowed before you added a third finger.

The Zenin had such a nice body, it almost looked like a sin— as if he was begging to be fucked. After all, what's the use of having such thick thighs and such a sexy ass if not for fucking them? You glanced down at him while playing with his hole, fingering him and teasing his prostate, your other hand stroking your cock slowly.

“Enough of foreplay. Spread your hole for me.” You said, watching him click his tongue in annoyance but still doing as you told. You held one of his legs on top of your shoulder. “And stop rolling your eyes or clicking your tongue every time I tell you to do something, it's getting me soft.”

Toji scoffed.

“Ha. Then maybe you're not a real man if a roll of eyes is enough to—” He couldn't finish his sentence as you thrusted your cock inside, invading his hole in one swift move. He gasped, his hands letting go from his ass to grab a handful of the sheets as he glared at you like he wanted to kill you.

You smirked down at him with a mocking gaze. “What were you saying about real man again? I don't think I heard you.” You teased, pulling your cock halfway out before slamming it back inside, the Zenin letting out a grunt. You moved your free hand to pinch his nipple, pulling on it.

“You bastard...” He muttered as you stopped your hips for a moment, leaning down to his chest. Your tongue licked and sucked his right nipple then your teeth sunk down for a bite, Toji flinched and groaned from pain mixed with pleasure. “The hell are you doing–”

“Taming you.” You cut him off with a sadistic smile. Toji wanted to make that smile of yours disappear because he was starting to like it more than he should. “From now on, every single time you complain or call me anything that isn't master you're going to be punished.”

You chuckled, pulling your cock out almost completely and slamming it back in, moving in slow thrusts. “Understand?”

You spanked his ass again, a silent warning for him to answer. The non-sorcerer groaned, biting his lip in both annoyance and pleasure. “Yes...” He took a second to continue: “...Master.”

“See? It's not that hard to stop being such a brat.” You said, starting to fasten the pace of your thrusts. Who the hell are you calling a brat? Toji wanted to shout, but didn't. Your veiny, fat cock was filling his insides and the tip pressing against his prostate was making Toji flinch every time you aimed at that spot. He was starting to actually moan too, instead of only letting out those grunts and heavy breaths of his.

The moment you grabbed his dick and starting stroking it he whimpered, one of his hands grabbing the sheets as the other was behind him, grasping the pillow. He felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge as you moved back and forth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Faster— Ugh, I'm close...”

But then you stopped moving your hips, pressing your thumb against the tip of his cock. The Zenin's eyes immediately moved to you, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance and confusion. “What are you doing? I said I'm close to cumming.”

“I heard what you said,” you chuckled, slamming your cock inside one more time then stopping. “You're going to beg for if you want to cum. Or else we're staying like this for the rest of the evening.”

“Beg? Me? Ha. In your dreams–” Slap! Toji's eyes widened when he felt the hit against his cheek, his teeth gritting in anger as he glared at you, his mouth already opening to protest when you raised your hand again, now spanking his ass instead. “Fuck, cut it out!”

“Beg.” You repeated, your thumb making small circles on the tip of his hard cock, smearing the precum as his body squirmed under your touch. Toji knew he was at his breaking point and being unable to orgasm didn't hurt yet, but it was certainly uncomfortable.

“Damnit... Please, let me cum.” He muttered, glancing away with a frown. You raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, shaking your head in response. Another spank on his ass, Toji letting out a low moan.

“Beg like you mean it, non-sorcerer.” You said in a seductive whisper, your tongue sticking out from your lips to lick his neck up to his jaw.

“Please!” He said, thrusting his hips up against your touch, searching for his high only to be stopped by your hands keeping him still. The Zenin was physically stronger than you, and he knew that. But maybe because he was too horny he couldn't react very well or even think about fighting back and dominate you instead.

“Not enough.” You said, threatening to pull your dick out from him but his legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you back inside. You hummed in amusement, not expecting that from him. “So?”

“Please...” he repeated, then added: “Master. Keep fucking my guts until I cum.” You noticed how Toji couldn't keep glaring at you. He was embarrassed, and you found that cute. It was so unlike Toji to act so submissive like that from the little bit of time you talked with him.

“You still have a lot to learn... but for now I'll let it pass.” It was weird how you talked as if this wouldn't be the first and last time you two slept together. But Toji didn't have much time to react, as you finally started moving again, your cock inside him and your hand moving tightly and fast around his shaft.

“Fuck! Yes– Harder!” He moaned out loud and it only took a few more thrusts and strokes for him to shoot his cum, his back arching and his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his legs trembled around you. His seed dirtied his abdomen and his hole clenched against your cock tightly, almost not letting you move.

It was such a sexy sight. You also didn't endure much after that, cumming right after him. Your load being pumped deep inside the Zenin as you let out a grunt, biting your lower lip with a smirk.

After some seconds and when the ecstasy broke down, Toji switched back to his cold mode almost immediately, looking at you. “About the money– What–” His eyes widened when you thrusted against him again, a involuntary whimper leaving his lips. You were still hard.

“Oh? I don't remember saying we were done. How much for a round two?”

—

©2023 hanfobia do not repost, modify, dist. or translate.

[strwberri-milk]

hey so how do you think Kaveh would deal with having a bad client and then he ends up meeting a good ditzy client reader after. This reader walks into the room and catches the bad client and Kaveh arguing stressed cuz the clients being too demanding and reader just stands off to the side awkwardly not sure what they should do with themselves. They’re like “Should I come back another time?” They end up being quite agreeable with his ideas except they like big windows. They are very innocently intrigued by it and do admit they’re unsure about it all, but they gonna trust him with this? Maybe they become lunch or drinking buddies with time? Reader sometimes is staring at Kaveh and They seem freaked out and act like they weren’t just staring. Reader just thinks he is handsome and they keep getting lost in that thought whenever they look at him? If he asks what’s up? reader admits it, but then realise, “oh crap. I just said that outloud”?

typically i dont do overdetailed requests but i found some leeway w this one but i hope you dont mind that i dont touch on. literally everything bc that would def overcomplicate this a bit

Kaveh's a little mortified at what you just witnessed. He tries to apologise for it and tell you that it's no big deal and if you're uncomfortable he has no idea rescheduling your appointment for another time. You end up sticking with the appointment anyway and thankfully your ideas are all ones that he can see himself working with. He also appreciates the idea of larger windows because he loves working with natural light, sketching out his ideas idly as you talk to him.

The two of you end up needing to meet several times, slowly growing into a friendship. Kaveh likes being able to leave the house for reasons other than just for work and it's always nice to make new friends. He did notice you staring at him all the time, face flushing brightly when you mutter something about how attractive you find him.

He's very flattered but up until this moment he hasn't really thought of being anything more than just friends with you. It's not until now that he'll find himself entertaining the thought, deciding that he wouldn't be opposed to the notion at all.

Regardless of the direction the two of you take you're glad to have met him. Kaveh is very kind and also very talented at his job. You know that nobody would have done as great a job as he did with your project, taking him out to dinner to thank you for completing your project perfectly.

[statementlou]

i feel like i can talk to you about this because you have rational opinions. so louis bought a starbucks coffee at the airport and the fandom on twitter are eating him alive, calling him evil and wishing he goes to hell. i’m disappointed since starbucks is on the list of brands to boycott but i feel like this reaction is too much? someone even said jay would be disappointed in him, but people said that was taking it too far. i don’t know, i love louis and i’ll keep supporting him and his music but the fact he can be a careless millionaire is disappointing

1. thank you sweetie I would boop if I could 2. oh my god it's a fucking cup of coffee and if people think that's the worst thing Louis, a multi millionaire, has ever done financially they need a reality check! His money will be handled by bankers who are putting it into all kinds of evil fucking shit that he won't even know about, it's actually very hard to know or control that and there is no way trying is even on his radar. That's a passive thing and not on purpose; but the fact that people don't bother to know about that or care really speaks to how performative this kind of online approach to activism is, that they only care about image rather than effect (the effect of his investments would be easily thousands of times more than any number of coffees or even of the promotion Starbucks might get from him holding it.) But furthermore buckle in cause you hit a nerve: Starbucks isn't even an actual organized boycott target as concerns Palestine because THEY HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ISRAELI GOVERNMENT financially! The official BDS movement calls for boycott of very specific and pointed targets of which Starbucks IS NOT ONE it's literally just an online trend which is not the same as an actual boycott to materially impact a target! Losing them money is always great, they are a crappy union busting small business killing corporation, but it has zero direct effect to help Palestinians unlike supporting the meaningful boycotts called for by BDS. I don't think Louis has decided to buy starbucks because he has this analysis, but to me it's a pretty important point. Him crossing an actual picket line (playing Israel, playing Eurovision [lmaoooo that thought tho], waving an Israeli flag god forbid) would be a very different situation and something that would trouble me so the distinction matters to me. But I get that to people on twitter, that's what they feel like he has done. To which I would say...

There are so many fewer ways to help Palestine than we would wish, and it's SO hard to deal with feeling so powerless right now in the face of such horror, so I love that people feel so strongly about doing whatever they possibly can. But worrying about consumer spending, even on BDS targets, is perhaps the least effective of the things a person can do. Note that BDS boycotts do not mostly focus on asking people not to buy things; they list the products that are especially complicit, but the main work of the movement is to get large investors (corporations, public institutions, whole governments) to divest from the companies targeted because that actually hurts them enough that it becomes less profitable to continue to collude with Israel than to drop them as clients. Consumer spending is not enough to do this. It's easy and doesn't require doing actual work but it's basically virtue signaling, not organizing. Just NOT doing something (yes including voting) is not enough! I personally choose not to give my money to certain corporations because it feels bad to me and I can't stomach doing it, even if they never notice me doing it. But if I was running out of fuel and the only nearby station was a Chevron, I would spend a few bucks there and not beat myself up about it because it will have zero impact on their overall profit reports but a LOT of impact on my life. And if I was in the airport for the second time in mere days after circumnavigating the globe and playing a massive show and doing press and fan service before even having time to adjust time zones and about to get on another flight to another country I might buy a fucking coffee from whatever coffee shop was in there too! But Louis isn't me and I'm gonna be real honest I would be real surprised if he KNEW there was a boycott or gave a shit- he is not a political activist! It's reasonable to be disappointed if someone behaves not how you want them to, but just in general responding to being disappointed in people by lashing out at them is... not it. Not useful, not rational, and not actually an okay way to act to other people. Louis is an awesome sweet caring person who I believe tries hard not to have a negative impact on anyone directly and who cares very much about others; if that's not enough for someone to be a fan of him, okay then they should not be a fan of him! But warning: they're not going to be able to be a fan of anyone else either. No one is pure and perfect... maybe that energy would be better spent trying to make a meaningful difference in the world, and a great first step in that IMO is to recognize and challenge your inner cop. The better world I want to live in doesn't include policing other people, not on twitter and not anywhere.

[alwaysshallow]

— gorgeous, part 5

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

You attend a military gala with Simon - and you learn new things about him, as well about yourself. (5k)

READ ON AO3

previous part

You would never, ever, ever see yourself looking for a fancy dress with an intention of wearing it for someone; specifically, for Simon. Person who quite literally was nothing but your client, with his adorable cat that you already loved with your whole heart. Seemed like a joke, right? The thought of going somewhere with him. You didn't have much in common, gestures with walking you home and that mechanic situation were just being nice , you thought.

Well, it still seemed like a joke when you tried on multiple dresses, muttering under your breath comments about each one of them; trying not to go spiraling because the job was tough . You wanted to look pretty, you even needed to, considering the circumstances and the place where the gala was originally taking place in – and that's at the casino.

Pretty military choice, honestly. Odd, maybe, but military.

You glanced once again at chat with Simon, sighing to yourself; his way of asking was also odd, but when he wasn't like that? The invitation was over a text, a quick message if you want to go to a gala with him because he "needs company" and you seemed like a good one. As hesitant you were, trying to find a catch in this, you eventually agreed – and that was it. Deal done, no other words whatsoever, just a simple reaction to your message (thumbs up, obviously).

With anyone else, you'd think it's a joke – with him though, it seemed like something he'd really do, so you weren't even questioning it like you normally would, no overthinking.

All you needed was a pretty dress, heels and makeup that wouldn't scream "I don't know what I'm doing here".

You had an idea for everything but a dress.

Maybe it was your picky taste, but it was really hard to find something good enough for something like a military gala happening in the casino . You had to be representative enough to match the vibe of your partner and the others – which, to be completely honest, could be a tough job, considering you were just a civilian. Not someone important, but someone that other people will definitely look at the moment you walk into a room full of generals and such.

All in all – a room full of people that you've only heard of on the TV, when they talked about military action in a press conference. What was even more weird for you, Simon probably knew them, and they knew him, probably even worked with him at some point since he had a medal for his action in the field. That's pretty much all you knew about the whole thing and if it seemed like little information (because it was little information about it) for that skull-masked guy it was already much though.

What you learned from that one bar interaction with him, learning about him was a process no one could skip, something inevitable, no matter how he liked you, respected or something else. Many people would probably give up, but that mystery behind him was too endearing for you, too challenging and you loved challenges.

Especially when someone had a sharp tongue like him, especially when someone wasn't so clear about how he feels. A little over a month after knowing Simon, it became a bit more obvious that he's more into acts of service, quality time than words.

And it became more obvious in that bar, after Soap's slurring when he had a couple of beers and drinks, confessing his love to everyone around, but it was your observation too.

"It's a good dress." A woman behind you said, smiling a bit; you saw that in the mirror, when you looked at your image so carefully, like your life depended on choosing the right dress for the night. It wasn't even your night, night about you, but you wanted to look the best. In your head, he should appreciate it.

You cleared your throat. "Isn't red a bit... too much?" you turned your head to a nice lady. For some reason, your comment made her laugh.

"For what you've told me, red is exactly what you need."

Draped red dress, where the one arm was completely bare, and another clothed with material. Knee-length; so not too short, but not too uncomfortably long so you wouldn't freely walk around.

Seemed like a good idea, but it was still stressing the shit out of you while you drove back to your vet clinic, listening to some random pop station, trying to calm your nerves. You couldn't understand why you were so stressed about something like this, but the answer was pretty simple – Simon's opinion . After all, he was your partner, the main person you were supposed to go to that gala, a plus one for a man that won something. You wanted him to like the dress, and you didn't even know his favorite color.

A ball of stress, you were. A bit too much, but it was always a problem of yours: a weird want of approval in situations where you weren't so sure about what you are doing, and you needed someone to bring you back down to the earth. Simon seemed like a good person for doing that with demeanor of his, but you decided to not call him.

Decision changed the moment you ended your shift in the clinic, and automatically dialed his number with prepared questions in your head, such as who would drive, what should you know about people here, and how long he wanted to stay.

If it was the right decision to pick the red dress too, but you decided that's gonna be the question you would ask last. You've already felt embarrassed about it, there was no need of making it worse, feeling like a child anyway.

You've felt worse though, when he didn't pick up – so, you texted him to call later because you wanted to talk about the gala.

Ten minutes later, he was the one to call you, with a weird tone of voice. "What gala?" had you confused enough to forget all the questions. There was a possibility he wanted to joke a bit, but when he repeated the question...

"You asked me." Your voice became a bit raspy, as you massaged your temples. "To go with you, I mean. To that military gala of yours, where you're supposed to receive a medal."

"I asked you?" His tone was a bit too shocked for your liking; a cold shiver went down your spine, while you nervously gnawed on the pencil.

"Yeah. Pretty much, over the text."

The silence on the other side was defeating; you'd like more if he'd admit that he simply changed his mind about you being his plus one. Instead, he seemed to be completely clueless about you being here in the first place, which got you more than confused: you had evidence he texted you. It wasn't your imagination, nor a dream – you even checked in the meantime.

It took him ten minutes to find out what happened. Ten minutes where you were just on the line, waiting for him to say something, while he was trying to recollect what could happen. Ten minutes, where you pretty much destroyed your pencil, to find another one to torture with your teeth. Nervously because you hated this situation, and started to regret that you said "yes" in the first place.

"Soap texted you." Seemed like a nail to your coffin when Simon started speaking. "He thought it's gonna be a funny joke. I don't know what got into him, he wanted to..." the man stopped, sighing once again. It seemed like he was exhausted by this topic already, and honestly? Honestly, you were pretty exhausted too. "I don't use my phone, so I didn't even check texts before."

You didn't really know what was appropriate to say; you felt like the stupidest person alive, to be put in the position where Johnny asked you to be plus one for Simon, not the man you were interested in going with. "Mm."

"Sorry for that. Should'a keep my phone from that bast-"

"-No, no, really. It's okay. Seriously," you laughed awkwardly, interrupting him; it probably sounded to Simon like you were forcing it. He'd be right – you never felt more embarrassed and eager to end the call. "Anyway. Night, I have to close clinic."

"Addison, wait-"

Maybe it was a bad idea to end the call when he clearly wanted to say something, but the damage was done, even if you wanted to ask him what he had in mind. You were too embarrassed and too prideful to call him again, so you started cleaning your office with the intention of closing everything under ten minutes to get the hell out of here.

Hell, even that dress in your apartment you picked so carefully had no purpose other than returning it, and you really thought it was going to be her time.

Your phone rang again, and you couldn't resist answering it. "You're really a tough one to catch." Hearing that low voice had you shivering slightly, when you walked out of the clinic. "When I say wait , I mean it."

You can't help but chuckle at this authoritative tone, coming out in probably the stupidest situation ever. "I thought there's nothing else to add."

"See, if you'd only listen..." he sighed. "You wanna go?"

"What?"

"Told you before, don't ask stupid questions."

"I'm just..."

"Do you want to go with me?"

"I don't know shit about the military, Simon. I might embarrass you, maybe it's not a good idea," you mumbled out. "And I don't want it because you feel bad for me or something."

"Oh, I feel everything but bad right now," he murmured. "You don't know, and it's even better. You don't have to talk, just be here, observe, after two hours we will head back. No after parties and shit like this."

"I like talking."

He snorted. "Oh, believe me. I know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'. You up or no? I can go alone."

You had nothing to lose, right? Absolutely nothing. No one would know you in a party full of rich fuckers in military with one purpose – to eat and get drunk after the official part. And there were also a lot of advantages for you; food, alcohol, company of Simon that you really wanted.

A chance to get to know him better, around different people this time. People full of authority, people that know him from battlefield and special actions, not privately. Another persona, you could say.

"Alright."

"Be ready at six tomorrow," he said after a few seconds of silence.

"Okay." You cleared your throat. "...Simon?"

"Yes?"

Question lingered on your tongue; you had to ask. "Do you have a red tie?"

"Mmm... not sure. Why?"

You took a deep breath. "We should match."

"And it's supposed to mean what, that red? Can't it be black?"

"I have a red dress."

You met with another silence. It seemed like your partner had to think. "I'll buy a red tie, then."

"Right."

Just like that, the call ended – and you just had to process it on your way home, so you couldn't help but choose a number to Rosalie. When she picked up, you added Celia to the conversation and told them the whole story. Laswell was less shocked, considering that the whole operation really sounded like Soap's mischief; she laughed more too, asking if you're really ready for that "date" with Ghost.

"He's gonna be different," Celia murmured.

"He's different in general." You shrugged to yourself, as you parked your car in the underground parking. "Besides, Rosa knows him, right? She knows the deal with him."

"Oh, I wish I knew the deal with him," she interrupted you, at which you all collectively laughed. "Yet, I think it will be interesting. You're gonna be the one person he wants to see in this gala, he hates fancy things."

So, with this attitude, you were getting ready the next day; you even practiced walking in heels a little in the morning since it had been a long time since you wore them. Make-up tutorial helped you in choosing something classy, yet, not complicated on the occasion. Hair? The most easy of them all, you just curled it a bit, so it would look slightly better and fancier.

You were pretty satisfied with the outcome; you couldn't recall when you looked at least half as attractive as you looked before the gala.

The only problem you had? You were nervous as hell. Not even slightly nervous, but nervous, where you couldn't really eat something without feeling that you're gonna vomit it in the next second. The mystery, what were you so stressed about? Being at the gala with a lot of people you don't even know about, the importance of it for Simon, or...

Simon itself? His presence? Not the first time you were supposed to be with him around people, nor the first time alone at some point . Nonetheless, you couldn't brush off the uneasy feeling, and nervous tick of playing with your fingers while you waited for six o'clock to go outside of your apartment.

He was quicker than you, though – texted you that you can go outside, so you did, just to meet with Soap as a driver, with "Ghost" in the back. Nickname suited him at that moment, considering he had a mask, similar to the first time you've met him; you could only see his brown eyes popping out.

"Going undercover?" you joked, as you took a seat beside him. What you noticed immediately, his perfumes were just perfect , just like the suit he picked. Black, classic one with a red tie – you wished you could see his face, though.

In your opinion, it would look better, but who were you to judge?

"Kind of. They don't have to see my face,” he murmured, shrugging. "Gonna take my medal and that's it."

You nodded, like you got it – and in some way, you did. The person behind the mask wasn't allowed to see by anyone else, but the people that he trusted. Man with a mask? Completely different story, you'd say – especially that he wore it out on the battlefield with his enemies and comrades, where everything happened. There was no place for a man behind the mask to come out; a man possibly so much more human and fragile. You wanted to know him this way, if he'd let you.

You said nothing in response to his statement; you thought it was a mistake a few minutes later, when he still hasn't said anything. The one person who talked was Soap, and he was pretty much talking to himself, considering that no one really answered him, and he indicated his irritation on that fact, but did nothing with it besides a few comments.

Road to the casino looked beautiful – with trees losing their leaves, everything around was just screaming with perfect, early fall. It was your favorite season; not only did it meant Halloween was coming up, but also everything was becoming... easier to romanticize? You were that person, who romanticized life to get through it sometimes, and it happened fall was the easiest for you. Baking things, trying new recipes, watching horror movies or romcoms under the blanket when it was dark outside.

Just a perfect scenario for you.

You thought for a second that it's going to be also a slow season in your clinic; besides a few pets that could catch cold or be vaccinated, nothing really was happening around that time.

So, it was supposed to be more of a time for you and helping others. Animal shelters, for example, which you've supported for a long time. They always needed help, and if you just had time and money, you tried to do the best thing you could.

Sudden braking brought you back to the moment; with you almost hitting the front seat with your head, which resulted in you feeling embarrassed as hell. Maybe if you wouldn't be so caught up in your thoughts, you'd see this coming.

"The fuck , Johnny?" Simon snarled, looking at his friend with question in his eyes; Scot nervously glanced back at you two.

"Fuckin' gooses are driving right in front of me, 's what. Sorry."

"Hopin' you're not the fucking goose," he murmured, glancing at you. "You okay?"

"Nothing damaged. Besides my dignity," you replied, giving him a thumbs up.

Simon snorted, shaking his head. "Happens to the best of us."

You raised an eyebrow, smiling under your nose. "So, to you too? I'd absolutely love to hear it someday."

"Glad that you think 'm the best, Addison," he hummed, tilting his head, while you just were absolutely bamboozled. "But it doesn't happen to me, no."

He got you, somehow. Normally, you'd just roll your eyes at this comment, normally it wouldn't make such an impact on you, but it was Simon . With his low voice, British accent and deep, brown eyes. Something definitely was in those eyes – eyes that could literally melt your heart, if he tried hard enough. You were pretty sure he also was able to convince you to do anything he wanted, and it was a scary thought.

A crush? More of an appreciation of his beauty, you liked to think.

"I didn't say that."

"Uh-huh," he snorted, shaking his head with amusement. "Apparently red looks good on your cheeks, too."

Apparently red looks good on your cheeks too.

If you could get more red at that compliment, you probably would. Maybe it wasn't a straight-up compliment though, but something hidden behind that comment; you were red as a tomato, after all. Too,  was a keyword that had you choking on his words, that got you smiling under your nose, that got you even more red so you had to look at the world outside.

It made you more confident; you rested your hands comfortably on your thighs, instead of nervously clamping at the material of your dress. Simon's opinion was more important than anyone else's – you were here for him, not for generals, not for people that don't know you, not for the people that wouldn't see you after this little military gala.

Your partner on the other hand... could see you on various occasions. In theory, in your clinic, at the visit with his cat, but you were pretty convinced he's gonna see you earlier. Maybe it was a bold statement, but you thought you've got a bond with him; silent understatement, where the two of you, even with differences, could easily get each other.

Was it because of those walks with you, where he basically protected you from getting possibly kidnapped or murdered? Maybe, maybe it was his chuckle every time you cracked a joke with him, maybe it was something about his head tilting every time he heard you talking about something that he didn't quite understand.

Either way, you liked him. Really. Maybe too much, considering that he was more mysterious than the Vatican secret archives. Your friendship with him could end up in multiple ways, you were aware of it, but it didn't really change the way you looked at him when he was on his phone, deep into scrolling through it.

His face, covered by a mask... hell, you were thankful that you've seen his face without it.

Ten minutes after this, you arrived and left Soap's car, just for him to yell after you to not make a mess and be good citizens. His friend, and your partner in one, flipped him off, and continued to walk with you towards the entrance of the casino.

Which was just beautiful.

Long, crystal chandeliers – you were pretty sure you'd be dead if one of them would fall – got your attention first, when they sparkled like finest diamonds in the world. After a while though, you were pretty convinced that the painted ceilings were the most beautiful thing, like those in St. Peter's Basilica, but less holy ; equally beautiful, though.

Gold and white were definitely the theme of this party, when you looked at the tables and chairs everywhere, including all the games that the casino offered. There was something weird about how many men were there with way younger women by their side, treating them like a trophy. Nothing positive about their possessive touch, only the want to keep them, so they wouldn't run; but you weren't the one to talk, so your gaze was on the surroundings more than people. For a moment, though.

"Nice to see you, Simon." Seven minutes after your arrival, a stranger's voice brought you out of your awestruck back to earth. You didn't know him, but the posture and his attitude just screamed that he's someone important.

Simon's hand landed on the small of your back, like on instinct; fingers curling a bit, like he wanted to create comfort, not to cross a boundary with his sudden touch. You weren't that close with him, after all. "Likewise."

Your partner's tone spoke volumes about how much he wanted to talk with that person – officer, general or whatever ; you just saw that he had many medals on his chest, proudly, like it was something he had to accentuate for everyone. It wouldn't surprise someone like you, a citizen since you believed that military people most certainly have to be proud about their accomplishments.

The way Simon looked at him, though... It was enough for you to cling to his side more, listening to the old man rambling about various things that you had no idea about. You've only recognised that he's pratting about tanks being useless these days because the military has no funds to make them a bit "trickier" for the enemy. Only that, the other parts were like a black magic to you, why is he so frightened with it.

Especially when your partner looked quite bored in the conversation, replying briefly to him that's probably the way of the world and some things don't need to change. Wasn't a quite satisfying answer for the other guy, definitely not making him quit the conversation, he only put it in the other direction.

"So, who's your little lady, then?"

It seemed like the point Simon decided that this conversation is no longer interesting for him; as he gave him a polite look, introducing you without giving the details. He only mentioned something about you being his friend, meeting with your mutual friend, and that was it – he already snatched you away from him, grumbling something under his nose.

"Not really a nice dude?" you asked, tilting your head, as you sipped champagne, previously taken from the waiter who offered you the alcohol.

Simon shook his head. "No. He's an arse, thinkin' he's better than everyone."

Quick question, quick answer. You nodded in understatement. "Noted."

"Less you're 'round 'em, the better. Military men, in general."

Somehow, this made you smile; the thought that he doesn't want you around people like that because he knew they weren't only a good fit, but they would just make your life more troublesome. Pure truth, as you remembered Rosalie's words about military people being complicated , as well as relationships here, and Simon only added another puzzle to the picture.

Maybe it was the career and images that they saw, or just people that went to the military in general were like that, you didn't want to judge, but for some reason, you could easily spot who was a plus one, and who was just supposed to be here.

Even multiple cocktails didn't blur your vision. At least, that metaphorical one, when you mindlessly waited for Simon to come out on the stage after his disappearance. He told you he's gonna be back in five , but five went to five drinks (thanks to your new best friend, bartender). Time was just slipping through your fingers.

You could easily blame your sudden love of alcohol not only on the bartender (that was really nice and she sold you a gossip or two), but on being quite lonely . It's not like you had anyone to talk to long-term, Simon was away, and remembering you promising him to not talk to most of the people here, you didn't even try to find someone normal. Spending time on alcohol seemed like a only normal option, which was ironic, but oh well .

Sixth drink in, he finally arrived, and you automatically got up from your seat, not wanting to be disrespectful towards him receiving a medal. It was a big thing, not to mention that it was something that you've firstly come here for. For him, to show support, the most honest one because even if you didn't know him as much as the others, as his comrades at least, you wanted him to see the real happiness.

Because he deserved that. Because he deserved something more than just a pat in the back, he deserved more than a simple "good job". Medal was a big thing, especially if it was the first of bigger ones in his career.

At least, you thought it was somehow a bigger one. You didn't get a chance to ask him, but he seemed to be nervous like he was getting it for the first time.

"That's your man?" the bartender asked, as you practically bounced in one place, just to see him more clear. As you gave her a weird look, the woman laughed. "You're jumping like you're at a One Direction concert."

"I just want to see the whole thing! He's... not my man. A friend. So maybe my man. But partially. Definitely not romantically," you slurred with a drink in your hand; a shameful reminder why you were slurring, so your attention automatically went to Simon again.

It wasn't a long ceremony. A few soldiers, every one introduced separately for their action in the field, including Simon Riley (that was where you learned he lied with his surname) were given a medal. Different ones, some of them even put out a show with tearing up and all, but your partner was... just standing there. Gracefully, looking at the general, just to shake his hand and nod with such a gentleness to it.

What had a bigger meaning to you, was the fact that he pretty much looked at you the entire time; his expression practically unreadable, but his eyes spoke volumes about how he was feeling, how he wanted to step down from that stage. And at the same time, how proud he was of himself also.

Like a proud... friend , you took a photo of him. Maybe blurry, maybe against the rules (since there was a "no photos" policy on every door around), but it was something that you wanted to send him, so the memory of this night would live forever in him.

Seventh drink you ordered in toast to his accomplishment – for you and for him, when you saw that he made a bee-line to you without even looking at anyone else. He probably muttered a few thanks , and your heart skipped a beat at the thought.

"Simon Riley, huh?" you raised your eyebrow playfully, as you gave him the glass. You just had to allude to it.

"Thought I wouldn't see you anymore. The less you'd know about me, the better." He shrugged, accepting the alcohol; after taking a sip, he frowned. "Bloody hell, what is this?"

"So, now you want to see me?" You tilted your head with a little smile; alcohol was getting to you, you could tell. "Piña Colada."

"Horrendous. Whisky, please. Double, if that's possible." He turned to the bartender, who quickly nodded at his request; then, his gaze was on you again. "You'd like that? For me to see you?"

At this point of being drunk, maybe a little wasted even, you could tell him anything. You could nod at his question and tell him all about how much you want to see him in private. Not in your clinic, but as friends , or something more – you saw everything happening in your imagination, but... well, it wasn't the way.

"Maybe. If you'd want to see me," you answered, shrugging so casually. "If you wouldn't be like that all the time."

"Like what?"

You squint your eyes a little. "Stern. Professional." "Why are you makin' this face?" "Answer me. It's rude to answer a question with another."

He sighed, deeply, as he looked at you once again.

"I'm not that stern, dove. And professionalism comes in handy."

Somehow, the way he spoke made you laugh, the way he said that word of endearment; dove . He sent you a look of shock, even if his face didn't change at all. It's just his brown eyes speaking right now, and by now, you've learned perfectly how to read them, even if it's tough at times. "You find it funny?"

"Your words? No, I find it pretty sweet." you shook your head. "But your accent? I find it funny. As fuck,  honestly."

He raised his eyebrow.

"Somethin' wrong with my accent?" "There's nothing wrong with it!" you clarified, almost like you were afraid that he's gonna get this whole conversation wrong; you even started gesturing with your hands. "Like... don't get it wrong. I'm American." "'Course you are," he scoffed, taking a sip of his whisky.

You gasped with theatrical manner; you punched him in the arm for the effect. Simon didn't even flinch, he just looked at you like he'd want to question your doings.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'."

"No, no. You had something in mind, you tell me."

He hummed, like he was in thought, while you patiently played with the glass of your almost empty drink, as the ice melted in it slowly.

"What's wrong with Americans?" you asked, tilting your head, when he didn't reply after a few minutes. "What isn't, though?" he barked a laugh, seeing how offended you were with that simple comment. "What? Truth hurts?"

"At least we don't have this unhealthy obsession with tea," you pointed out, leaning against the bar a bit more, to get a better view of his covered face. You could see how the whole situation amused him, and his eyes were the prettiest back then. So warm, so rich , just like the color of his whisky.

"You're so American with this comment."

You chuckled. "Is that an offense?"

"I don't know, is it?" he asked, at which you barely kept yourself from rolling your eyes again. He had to see that, considering you could see the smirk under his mask, as he took a sip from his glass.

"Seems like an offense," you answered, trying so hard to hide that smile on your face.

"Guess it is an offense, then."

"Americans are better anyway," you said after a minute, as you took his drink – boldly – and drank all of it. You frowned at the bitter taste of double whisky. "Now, this is horrendous."

"You're just not old enough to appreciate it," he pointed at you. "You like your fancy drinks, dove. I like classics ."

"Whatever, dove ," you emphasized the last word, clicking with your tongue. "Let's take another, shall we?"

"You look like you had enough, though. S'all." He put his hand on the small of your back – his enormous hand and you just felt how your cheeks are burning. "We go, now. Alright?"

And what other choice did you have, instead of agreeing?

[mrsnancywheeler]

More Finnick brainrot because that one line I wrote about how Finnick and his sweet girl would be wanted at the same time got me thinking.

Imagine Finnick who has to sit on some leather chair, watching as his sweet girl is taken by some capital man. He knew how rough the capital men were, he’s seen it, he’s experienced it, he’s felt the pain. And yet…seeing his sweet girl, the girl who should only ever be treated gently, be treated with such violence. A rock sat in his stomach as he was forced to watch the man defile her, pull her hair till it stung, slap her, choke her, laugh and moan as she cried.

And he couldn’t do anything. He failed her. He failed her again. He couldn’t stop this. He as forced to watch, if he looked away she’d be treated rougher, that’s what the client said.

He guessed it was some sort of sick pleasure the man took. Two victors at once. A way to prove his masculinity. He would be able to fuck the beautiful girl as her lover, the embodiment of masculine beauty was forced to watch.

Finnick never knew what he hated more, watching his sweet girl be taken in such a way or be forced to act that way to her as people lined up to watch…

heart breaking rn

triggers for nsfw talks, trafficking, violence

but like in chapter 6 of the lakes when there's that smut scene, finnick is literally always asking if she's okay, always making sure he's not crossing boundaries, always ready to stop at any point because she's his sweet girl, he only wants what you want

so to have to watch someone treat you like an object for abuse makes his soul wilt away. because he's so close and so helpless, when your cry, when your hurt, he can't do a thing until the client is gone. maybe that's the blessing, you're not stuck up here alone in the Capitol trying to deal with it yourself, when it's all over he can take care of you. but it's so hard to not look away, to have to watch his sweet girl like that.

and he blames himself because this is the sacrifice he made by getting you so many sponsors, they expected you both to pay them back for their 'generosity' in the arena. if he tried to do anything snow would probably make things worse somehow, so you'd both decide to take it without a complaint. when you were in the Capitol there was makeup artists so you could keep up appearances if there was something off, bruises, a split lip, a hickey, nobody but the elite and other victors had to privy to it.

maybe the worst nights were when he had to do what they did to you. how was he supposed to hurt his sweet girl? even if you said it was okay, that you didn't blame him, that you weren't upset, that it wasn't his fault it would weigh on him constantly. it's not like he dissociate either when they wanted him to spew the most hateful things to you. it was better if they wanted him to take you from behind, so he wouldn't have to look into your eyes, watch you wince, and cry, and dissociate when you could.

and he hated how he felt like you were being so strong about it, finnick ached to protect you, and you tried to hide the hurt most of the time. his sweet girl putting on such a brave face for him.

"you're gonna have to hit me harder this time, they weren't buying it last time." you were putting in more mascara, it was better if it ran down your face and people could see the evidence of tears.

"angel, I can't do that."

"finn, we don't have a choice." you'd cradle his face, so comforting when your fingertips played with his hair. "I'm not gonna be upset with you, promise. I'll be okay, I can handle it."

his sweet girl loved to try and act like she was okay so she could focus on him, but he needed her to know how much she was valued so much and couldn't. so when you flinched away from his touch after and apologized each time or didn't want to be touched at all for a few days he was drowned in guilt. you'd take care of him and try to close off, it broke him

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 3

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav and Raphael are both sexually frustrated. Raphael notices Tav's interest and they find a solution for it together. Tav gets a bit more than she bargained for.

(AN: 'Give the devil your little finger and he'll take your whole arm' is a popular saying in my native language. I've never really heard it in English, so we are just going to act like it's also a saying in Faerûn. It literally just means what it sounds like it means. I believe it's the same as 'Give them an inch and they'll take a mile'. Also: they finally fuck in this chapter. ~Enjoy~)

TW: There is consent but there is depiction of painful or uncomfortable sex. Tav essentially gets hatefucked.

Warning: NSFW

Tav had been staying at the House of Hope for a couple of days. She was slowly but surely going insane. Not from any of the obvious things that one might go insane from when surrounded by the sound of damned souls and tortured debtors walking the halls, oh no: Tav was going insane from boredom and the lack of privacy.

There were plenty of interesting books in Raphael’s collection and normally this would have cured her boredom, but the fact that someone was constantly watching her every move annoyed and distracted her to no end.

Even worse: she could not use her usual cure for boredom due to the same reason. Tav had always had a healthy appetite when it came to sexual pleasures. If she was bored, stressed, sad, angry, or just generally overwhelmed, she masturbated to get that pent-up energy out. It was her beloved coping mechanism for everything life threw at her, and she was currently unable to use it.

It also did not help with her frustration that she had to deal with Raphael’s morning horniness either. She would wake up with his hard cock nestled against her ass every morning. He would press it up against her in his sleep, but he never did anything further as soon as he woke up. He did keep his word that he would not force her to do anything.

Tav would not give in and reciprocate her captor’s advances, even though her body screamed at her to do it. She would not give him the satisfaction. At the same time, she was climbing the walls and wanted nothing more than a moment of peace and privacy to let out that pent-up frustration.

She was simply studying her captor to learn more about him. That is what she told herself, as she looked Raphael up and down from across the room. She was sitting with an open book in her lap that she was not even reading. He was sitting in a blue silk robe as he looked through the newspapers and gazettes from various cities, most likely to gauge the market for desperate souls and potential clients.

Tav had always found him attractive, she was not blind, but her growing sexual frustration made her attraction to him even worse. She was also enjoying now seeing more of his devil form than she had during her adventure.

She was looking at his veiny clawed hands, as they turned the page of the paper he was reading. He had big hands…He was big in general, and it made her breath hitch how much bigger he was than her in that form.

It was almost unfair how good he looked in that robe. A part of his chest was exposed under it. She was looking at his dark chest hair when she noticed him smirking slightly before looking up at her. She had been caught. She cleared her throat and quickly looked down at the book she was "reading".

“Did your parents never teach you that it is impolite to stare?” he asked with that infuriatingly smooth voice of his.

“Wasn’t staring,” she mumbled. “I was just…pondering about this…enlightening read.”

“Mm,” Raphael hummed. “And what are you reading, dear?”

Her brain actually read the words on the open page of the book she was looking at. She had just taken it off a shelf to make it look like she was doing something productive. She noticed immediately that it was not in written the common tongue. She cursed internally and lifted it up to let him look at the cover. He squinted at it and then chuckled.

“It certainly is an enlightening read…if one speaks High Infernal, that is,” Raphael purred with an amused expression.

“Hm, well, yes…It’s never too late to learn something new, is it?” she said and quickly changed the subject. “Is it Korrilla’s turn to watch me today?”

“No, you will have the pleasure of my company today as I am taking a day away from work,” he said and folded the paper he was reading to put it aside. “Unless something comes up, then yes, it will be Korrilla.”

That no doubt meant that Tav would be glued to his side for the rest of the day. She could not walk around freely as she usually would, because Raphael would not be following her around like his warlocks did.

“What does a devil do on his day off?” Tav asked, hoping the answer would not include killing or torturing.

“Relax,” He answered with a shrug and got up from his chair. “Come.”

He moved towards the boudoir. Tav followed.

When they passed the barrier, Raphael casually untied his robe and threw it over a chair. Tav got a full view of his ass before her brain started working again and made her look away. She turned her back to him, which made Raphael chuckle.

“No need to be such a prude, dear,” he said. She could hear him stepping into the water of the restoration pool.

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s common decency to warn people before flashing them…” Tav said. “I’m not the one acting odd here.”

“Please turn around,” Raphael said from the pool. She could practically hear the smug grin. “I can’t keep a proper eye on you if your back is turned to me, now can I?”

Her eyes narrowed and she did not move.

“Of course, I can simply make you if you refuse...” Raphael said.

She sighed and turned to him without looking at him.

“That’s better…” Raphael said. “Now please, come and join me.”

She huffed and narrowed her eyes. She knew that he was playing with her and trying to get her even more flustered now that he had seen caught her staring at him. She would not give him the satisfaction. She started removing her clothes.

As she was removing her clothing, the realization hit her that even though they had slept beside each other, they had never really seen each other completely naked. She had felt Raphael’s nakedness every night, but she had never really looked. She herself had been wearing nightclothes each night and Raphael was usually out of the bed and on with his day before she had gotten changed.

She was careful not to look directly at him as she got into the pool, though Raphael did not grant her the same privacy. She could feel his eyes on her, shamelessly devouring every inch of her naked skin.

She sat down in the pool opposite from him. She made a point to only look him in the eyes although what she saw in her peripheral vision was begging her to look other places.

She was resting her elbows on the edge and holding her hands in the air, to keep the Orphic chains around her wrists above the water. Raphael glanced at the weird position of her arms and then at her eyes.

“Are they bothering you?” Raphael asked and gestured to the chains.

“The moisture makes the skin under them itch,” Tav answered. “Other than that, no. I’ve gotten used to them pretty quickly.”

“Hm,” Raphael hummed. “It seems to be a theme with you. You have been infuriatingly calm about this whole matter. I have to say, your spirits still seem remarkably high for a woman who has been given a dead sentence.”

“Would screaming and crying about it fix anything?” Tav asked.

“I suppose not...but it would satisfy your captor greatly to see you at least a little rattled about this whole ordeal,” Raphael said with a sigh. “Although…I’m sure there is time to break you yet.”

“I’ll make sure to cry a little in my sleep tonight, just for you,” she joked.

“It really is the least you could do,” Raphael said with a smile.

“The constant supervision is annoying though,” Tav admitted. “Especially when it’s your new little pet.”

“A cheap price for you to pay when it means that you are able to walk where you please instead of rotting in a cell,” Raphael said. “As for Cassius, yes. That boy has been disappointing. There is not a single independent thought in that pretty little head of his.”

Tav bit her cheek to not smile at Raphael calling him pretty. Her theory was that Raphael only hired him because he was the spitting image of a younger version of himself. Raphael seemed to catch her look of amusement.

“Why did you hire him then?” Tav asked, trying not to smile.

“I would much rather like to hear your theory as to why I hired him,” Raphael challenged with a smile and narrowed eyes.

“Mm, I’d rather not say…” Tav said.

“Come now,” Raphael said. “It’s clear that you have some thoughts on the matter.”

Tav sighed and tried to think of a way to say what she was thinking without being too offensive.

“I think…That you might have been a little lonely after Haarlep died, and that your new warlock, coincidentally of course, looks a bit like you.”

“Clever…” Raphael said. “And is there anything wrong with that?”

“No no,” Tav said with a shrug and treaded carefully with her next comment. “That’s entirely your business. I am simply saying that you might have been blinded by this…pretty face and because of this you might have chosen someone who is less suited for actually becoming a good warlock.”

Raphael chuckled.

“That is rather rich coming from you, no? Let us not forget that you got yourself into this mess because you wanted to sleep with the same man whose face, coincidentally of course, looks a bit like mine…” Raphael said with a dramatic hand-gesture.

Tav stuttered and had a hard time finding an appropriate reply to that for a moment. He did have a point.

“Well, to be fair I was very drunk, and I did not catch the resemblance at that point,” she countered. “But alright, I get what you are saying. Neither of us are above the temptations of the flesh or whatever.”

“Indeed,” Raphael purred and let his gaze fall over her naked body again.

Tav swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling of arousal that shot through her stomach. She cleared her throat and immediately tried to break the tension.

“So…do you miss them?”

“Who?” Raphael asked while still admiring her shape.

“Haarlep.”

Raphael’s eyes lingered on her body for a moment longer before returning to her eyes.

“Not in the way that you most likely are suggesting, no,” Raphael answered. “You accidentally did me a favor by killing them. They were spying on me, but because of complicated circumstances, I was unable to rid myself of them. They did however have their uses, despite their clear ulterior motives…That I do ‘miss’…”

Raphael got up from the pool without warning. Tav did not react quickly enough to avert her eyes before her eyes fell on his half-hard member. His length was impressive, but it was nothing compared to the intimidating girth of it. Her eyes quickly shot back up to his face. There was a slight smile on his face as he dried himself off that told her he had caught her little glance.

She awkwardly looked away and got up from the pool to dry herself off.

His little looks and half-suggestive comments throughout the day told her one thing about Raphael: he was just as sexually frustrated as she was. It made perfect sense, in a way. He had been used to having an incubus at his disposal for whenever he pleased and now, he did not.

Now that he had caught that Tav seemed to show a bit of interest, he put on the pressure and Tav was fighting her inner demons. Her body was saying yes, but her mind was warning her not to do anything stupid. Something her mother had always said to her when she was a child echoed in her mind: ‘Give the devil your little finger and he’ll take your whole arm.’

Usually when they got into bed, Raphael would put his arms and legs around her so she could not move around, grumble and tell her to sleep if she said anything or moved, and finally fall asleep himself. This night was different. He was holding her as usual, but his nose was buried in the back of her hair and his hand was lazily caressing her hip.

Tav’s body was on fire from more than his high body temperature. Her mind kept going back to the bath they took together in the morning. It seemed that Raphael was thinking similar thoughts because she could feel that familiar hardness pressing into her backside.

It was a tantalizing thought that all she probably had to do was reciprocate his advances and she could finally release that pent-up sexual frustration that had grown inside her for the last four days.

On the other hand, she had not had sex with anyone since that short fling she had with Astarion at the beginning of their adventure, and that had been so long ago. She was out of practice.

What was she even thinking? She should not even be seriously considering this…And yet her body won over her mind in the end.

She gently pressed her ass up against his already hard cock. She felt him freeze completely for a moment. She did it again, this time with slightly more pressure, which earned her a groan. The hand on her hip that had been caressing her, now firmly held onto her hip and pushed her closer to him. His breathing was getting heavier.

He hiked up her nightgown to snake his arm down between her legs. She was already so aroused that it made sinfully wet noises when he gently put two fingers over her clit and rubbed her in teasingly slow circles. She gasped and moaned softly.

“Such a pretty sound,” Raphael whispered in her ear, followed by a growl.

The thought that there were very sharp claws close to her sensitive bits did pass her mind, but he was being careful and oddly it only made it more arousing. He rubbed her clit a bit faster, making her gasp again and grab onto his arm. He pushed his cock up against her now exposed ass.

“And you are certain that you want this?” he whispered and applied more pressure to her clit as he kept touching her.

Her mother’s words echoed faintly in the back of her mind again: Give the devil your little finger…

At this point he could have both her arms, shoulder, torso, legs….as long as he did not stop what he was doing.

She nodded.

“I do wonder if you are truly aware of what you are agreeing to, little mouse,” Raphael whispered and chuckled in her ear.

In one swift movement she was suddenly on her stomach, pinned to the bed with him on top of her. She felt a claw run down her back and the sound of fabric being ripped. He pulled what was once her nightgown away from under her and leaned down over her back. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

He teased her entrance with the head of his cock, coating it in her wetness.

“This might hurt,” he warned and slowly started sliding his cock into her.

Even though she was soaking wet, she was not ready for it. It was a combination of his girth and the fact that the head of his cock was oddly sharp. He wasn’t even half-way in when she started slightly yelping and grasping the sheets.

“Raphael, please,” she pleaded.

He stopped his movements.

“Please what, dear?”

“I can’t…” she pleaded. There were almost tears in her eyes from the feeling of being too full. He looked down on her and caressed her cheek with his clawed hand.

“Oh, my sweet,” he cooed with feigned concern. “You can, and you will.”

Without warning he kept going until he was fully inside her, she felt his sharp exhale of pleasure on the back of her neck. Tav resorted to biting into the pillow to silence the scream that was threatening to escape her throat.

Tav, in her eagerness, had not considered that this might be a revenge-fuck for robbing his house and killing his incubus, but that was certainly what it felt like it was shaping up to be.

He was only granting her the small mercy of going easy on her for the first couple of thrusts. It quickly turned into a more brutal pace. It hurt like hell and the sounds she was making were something between a moan and a whine. She did find pleasure in it despite also involuntarily tearing up from the pain.

“Are you crying?” Raphael asked with no short amount of amusement in his voice, not slowing his pace in the least. His cock twitched inside her as his thumb went over the tears that were falling down her cheeks.

He yanked her head back by her hair.

“Then again, you did promise me that you would cry tonight, didn’t you? ‘Just for me’,” he growled into her ear, referring back to the joke she had made earlier while they were in the bath.

“How delightful it is to see you honoring your promises for once,” he said and punctuated it with a deep thrust that made her gasp and wince.

Right when she had finally gotten used to the pain and her walls had somewhat adjusted to his size, he came inside her with a low growl. She squirmed under him, thinking it was over. In response, his tail wrapped around her legs to keep her in place. He did not pull out of her. Not long after he was hard again and continued to fuck her. This same process continued for what felt like hours.

At some point she had been flipped to her back and was facing him. Desperate for release, she tried to sneak her hand down to her clit. She could see his glowing orange eyes narrow in the darkness before he caught both her hands and held them above her head.

“Please…” she pleaded between moans.

“You will have to be more specific, my dear. Please what?”

“Please let me come, Raphael” she begged. She sounded pathetic, but she was so over-stimulated.

“Oh, you must be confused,” he cooed in a condescending voice. “This is not about you or what you want. It never was.”

After fucking her over and over again with only the small breaks between him climaxing and getting hard again giving her a chance to breathe, he eventually he did find some small amount of mercy for her. He finally reached down to rub her clit. Tav held onto him and made a prayer to all the gods that would not hear her from the Hells anyway, that this was not some cruel joke.

“Please don’t stop,” she pleaded, almost crying again. She dug her nails into his back, which made him groan and quicken the pace of his thrusts.

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled as he muffled her loud and desperate moans with his free hand.

She was writhing and on the verge of screaming as she finally came. Raphael's climax followed shortly after. He finally pulled out of her and collapsed on the bed beside her. Her legs were shaking from the intensity of it all.

She was completely ruined. Everything hurt, but at the same time her whole body was buzzing with the delicious feeling of finally having found release.

He was lying on his back, catching his breath when he pulled her closer. For a short moment Tav feared that it was not over. To her great surprise he simply gestured for her to lie her head on his chest. It felt like an oddly intimate gesture considering the rough treatment he had just given her.

She hesitated for a moment but laid her head on his chest and got comfortable. Tav was too tired to question any of it and just made peace with the fact that she would never understand the weird nature of this man. She felt his hand brush over her hair right before sleep took her.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

I want to ask why you chose Aaron Warner, Christian Harper, and Rhys Larsen as a good comparison to Sylus? I want an essay!! I LOVE Aaron Warner but honestly haven't yet read the twisted series. Also, I don't mind spoilers so... excited to see what you come up with!

You want an essay??? Please 🙄 ….. No problem lets get it 😘

bear with me I read the twisted series over a year ago

‼️SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼️

Aaron Warner [Shatter Me Series ~ Tahereh Mafi] - This 5'9" golden haired military assassin with a heart of STONE. Yea you thought I was gonna say heart of gold huh? Nah this boy was trained to be a killer from birth. However when it comes to Juliette/Ella she is quite literally the only thing he cares about and is also the only girl he's ever loved.

He will quite literally sacrifice the world if it means she will be okay. His memory was erased multiple times, but he fell in love with her every. single. time. If it's for Juliette/Ella he's a goner because she is his only weakness in the world. He wants to love her and be loved by her and only her unconditionally.

“The reason why he had to keep wiping their memories was because it didn’t matter how many times he reset the story or remade the introductions— Aaron always fell in love with her. Every time.”

Christian Harper [Twisted Lies ~ Ana Huang] - Now this man stalked his girl for I think 5 years before making himself known. He's a billionaire who runs a security/tech company and he can hack into anything. He's a modern day genius obsessed with this girl Stella. They finally met in person when she moved into one of his apartment buildings with her friend Jules. He really slipped into her life though when Jules moved out and she couldn't afford the rent. He made a deal with her by letting her stay for a lower price and these were high end apartments (At least like 80% off the listing price). He also happened to live just one floor above her. The deal was she would take care of his plants in exchange for the low cost. He claims he isn't a jealous man yet he's jealous of every person she smiles at, every laugh that he didn't cause, etc he's completely and utterly obsessed with her from page one.

He will do literally anything for her including pretending the be her man for her social media platforms oh yea she's an influencer/model. Stella also likes being tied up and Christian happily obliged to tying her up ON A YACHT and was a real pussy pleaser. He supported her in her fashion designer endeavor and married her ass and IMMEDIATELY put a baby in her.

Oh one more thing Stella got kidnapped while her and Christian were fighting (this man was SICK) he sent a Code Black Out to all his agents in the area to find her and code black out if for extreme emergencies. Let’s just say her kidnapper is having a nice nap. A permanent nap. (Reminds you of a certain someone who turned MCs kidnapper into fucking black and red mist huh?)

Rhys Larsen [Twisted Games ~ Ana Huang] - Forget Prince Charming give me Mr. Scarred Knight Rhys Larsen 😮‍💨. He's ex-military and works as a bodyguard now (He works for none other than Christian Harper & they're in a sense friends) This man and his girl Princess Bridget who is a literal Princess. He was her bodyguard and she was forced to step up and become Queen because her brother married a commoner so he couldn't become king and Eldorra (their country) needed a ruler.

She basically starts acting up and Rhys is like girl wtf is going on?! She ends up wanting to do everything on her bucket list before becoming Queen so Rhys takes her to Costa Rica to do it. They fall for each other but it's a forbidden love so they can't really be together because she's royalty and he's a commoner. He fell in love despite him telling her he doesn't get involved with his clients. Him and Bridget were blackmailed by someone close to her which caused him to be terminated as her bodyguard. This man never drank in his life, but the minute he had to let Bridget go he drank himself stupid.

He was down bad for her (and so was she). They went through hell trying to get a centuries old law overturned so he could marry her. He didn't care about the fame or the royal title he just wanted to be with her. This man broke every single one of his rules that he'd set for himself for her. He never really opened up about his scars to anyone, but her (and I think Christian).

He's rough around the edges and can be a dom daddy made her stir down to her heels and said "Crawl to me" (SCREAMING WHINING AND RUNNING AROUND THE ROOM) He's also VERY possessive I quote...

"From this point on you're mine. No other man touches you. If they do I know seventy-nine ways to kill a man and I can make seventy of the look like and accident. Understand?"

I hope after reading all that you can see the similarities that I see. He's not dark romance he's just romance sunshine x grumpy basically.

I say all that to say this....

Sylus is morally gray like these characters above and he has a soft spot for MC (& the twins) he'll do anything for her and protect her at all costs. He's been through hell and may be a high functioning sociopath due to that trauma, but he still has a heart and is selective with who he's vulnerable with. He's not out here murdering people because they looked at MC. He knows his girl fine as hell, but he gets to touch while they hopelessly gaze.

[wolf-tail]

General Frustration With Helluva Boss

Sometimes, dealing with Vivziepop media is exhausting. One one hand, you have the violent irrational hateboner for anything and everything she's ever touched that a lot of people, especially on tumblr, have. It feels less born out of actual criticism and that weird flavor of "ouroboros snake eating it's own tail" cringe culture that a lot of people (mainly tumblr users) feel for anything that reminds them too much of their middle school selves. Like, ya'll picked Hazbin over South Park in the "worst cartoon ever" pole. South Park, the show that made antisemetism cool to hundreds of white tweens. That South Park. Yeah, that flavor of criticism is about as helpful or productive as bullying the kids in your local dead mall's Hot Topic.

On the other hand, you have the people who act like Viv and her team are incapable of wrongdoing and that any direction their projects going is the direct word of god and criticism of any aspect of either of her shows is a literal war crime.

I belong to neither camp because I enjoy my ability to critically think.

They're a long, LONG shot from perfect but there are things to like about both shows. Unfortunately, there's even more to criticize.

The Hazbin/Helluva fandom has a reputation for being childish, (often because a lot of them are actual children who have no business watching either show), whiny, and media illiterate. A creator can rarely if ever be blamed for the stupidity of certain members of their fanbase, though. Given the inane and frankly ridiculous misinterpretation of the character of Stolas by fans who are dead-set on viewing him through the most red-tinted "Ron the Death Eater" headass lenses, if I were a writer for Helluva I'd be tearing my damn hair out. But, sometimes, I wonder if Helluva's writing encourages the kind of dumbassery it's fans are prone to, mainly, with the latest short.

As soon as I saw the thumbnail, I knew what was coming. I tried to stay hopeful, I tried to think that Viv and her team wouldn't do this, but my expectations for this show are probably wayyyy higher than they should be.

The Helluva Shorts are Viv's little way of having her cake and eating it, too. With the plot of the full episodes being almost completely dedicated to more drawn-out character driven emotional beats, the shorts are allowed to maintain the monster-of-the-week mercenary assassination type plots, where I.M.P. has a target to kill and a specific goal to overcome for the episode. (Short 1 is an exception, and strangely the best out of all of them. It helps develop Millie's almost completely flat character and prioritizes her over the male characters she typically gets shafted for.) Short 3, Weeaboo-boo, is the weakest short by far, something even hardcore fans of the show would agree on.

To spare everyone the misfortune of having to watch it, let me summarize:

I.M.P.'s latest target is Emberlynn Pinkle, a twenty-something college student living at home with her parents. Her case file actually gave me some hope for this short, as the reason I.M.P.'s client wants her dead is over bullshit and inane shipping drama, something I sadly have experience with. I thought this short was going to critique the kind of nonsense the worst types of fans (like the ones outlined above) get up to, but instead, it just took one big look at fandom culture as a whole, and like a woman-hating redditor obsessed with powerscaling, decided to spit in it's face and call it a whore.

Emberlynn is portrayed as a sickeningly cliche charicature of female fandom, a horny loser burdening her parents, obsessed with sex, who writes dumb and lame fanfics about her dumb and lame self-insert oc. She feels like she was an attempt at a tounge-in-cheek little self-depreciating humor bit about fandom, but feels stale and mean-spirited.

She's a loser weirdo for being a monsterfucker, despite half the jokes in the show being about weird kinky sex. She's a horned-up creep for getting exited about being hunted by a demon and thinking he's here to have sex with her, despite that being THE LITERAL FIRST THING STOLAS DOES WHEN BLITZ BREAKS INTO HIS HOUSE, the only difference between him and Emberlynn being that Stolas has a tragic backstory, and is a man. Blitz kills her and sends her to hell, where she gets a sickass demon form I might add,

and is nothing more than a stalky, obsessive fangirl.

...

Do you ever wonder why creators hate their female fans?

We've already done this same song and dance with Supernatural, but I expected Vivzie, a woman herself who's made jokes about the kind of misogyny women in her field of work experience, to not treat female fandom with the same "icky girls ruin everything with their stupid horny bullshit" sentiment that the Japanese incels on 2chan who came up with the word fujoshi. But I expected too much from her I guess. How the fuck did The Amazing World of Gumball handle fanfic culture in a genuinely funnier and kinder way than she did!?

Viv is just doing what she does best, creating a female character with interesting potential and the teeniest weeniest bit of something resembling body diversity in her cast of stick figures, making her annoying, and letting her rabidly misogynistic fanbase trample all over her. She did it to Mimzy, and funnily enough, Emberlynn kinda looks like her.

This short sucked complete ass, and is just more proof that Viv sucks at writing female characters. I'm disappointed, she did Emberlynn and Mimzy so damn dirty.

[mochinomnoms]

okay... so I'm watching the little mermaid 2 for the first time quite literally as I type this when i remembered a certain short merman named Tony. Is it possible he's based on Undertow? I just noticed the tiny shark guy and spotted some similarities!

if this is dumb you can just ignore it lol

-🦷

Yes! He is!!! I wanted to reference that Undertow was originally a shark before being turned into a piranha, so Tony is very very small but broad and very strong like a shark! For correctly guessing Tony's inspiration, here's some fun facts!

Tony Lombardi

“An unconventional man with a detached sense of humor but a soft heart. He is laid-back and easy going, making him an excellent mediator. He is surprisingly detached from others despite being friendly. Is often referred to as Aspen’s ‘keeper’.”

Quick Facts

Birthday February 15th (Aquarius)

Grade Freshman

Hobbies Stargazing

Age 18

Class C (No. 30)

Pet Peeves Cold weather

Height 155 cm

Club Spelldrive Club 

Favorite Food Stingray machaca

Dominant Hand Right

Best Subject P.E.

Least Favorite Food None

Homeland Coral Sea

Talent DIY-ing

Family Unnamed father and mother

Other Names(s) Jaws (himself)

Appearance

Tony is a young looking man with tanned skin and is a considerably shorter height than his peers. His hair is black, often slicked back and sporting a gray undercut. Despite his short stature, he is rather muscular. His eyes are dark brown and narrow, and he is often seen sporting a sharp-toothed grin. 

Personality

Tony is a relaxed, sociable, and surprisingly flirty man. He is often seen as someone unbefitting of his dorm’s traits, as he is less intellectually inclined and capricious than his peers, rather being “coquettish and foolish”. He makes for an exceptional mediator however, and often defuses situations on behalf of his friends. Tony is also called on often by Azul to mediate between himself and discontent clients because of this. He has a rather detached sense of humor, is often sarcastic, witty, and ironic; he enjoys suggestive humor, but isn’t very tactful when sharing it with others. He tends to act unconventional, doing what he feels is best for himself and his friends, and would rather deal with the consequences of his actions afterwards. 

He does find his Ramshackle peers' antics humorous and is happy to go with the flow of their activities, though won’t take the fallback for them unless Aspen is also involved. Much to many students’ horror, Tony interacts with Jade and Floyd in an incredibly friendly, occasionally coy way, which they return tenfold. 

Tony is insistent on being referred to as “Jaws” by everyone he meets, referring to his predator traits as a tiger shark. However, no one refers to him as such, much to his disappointment. 

Trivia

Tony is inspired by Undertow from The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea

Tony’s name is pronounced Tow-ny, as a reference to the ‘tow’ in Undertow (this is a stretch, let the author have this they just wanted to make him an Italian mafia-esque character).

Tony likes to be called “Jaws” by others in reference to his many rows of sharp teeth.

No one calls him Jaws besides himself

Tony’s family and the Leech family are well-known in the Coral Sea, and often work together.

Tony grew up with Aspen, Azul, and the Leech twins

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is a break up artist

For a livable wage, Hob will stage a scene to help a person get out of a relationship. The more elaborate the scene the higher the price; Hob will even be a dick at family events. It's a business -- Hob has a price list.

He prefers to work with the person who hired him to stage the scene, but (for an even higher price) he will seduce someone so that the person who hires him has (grounds for divorce; upper hand; shaming rights -- this isn't a nice person's job 🙄).

Hob is hired by Alexander (because he wants to be with Paul)/Nada because Dream won't leave her be/the horrible man "in love" with Calliope because he doesn't like the relationship she has with her ex-husband to seduce and ruin Dream ~ 👋🏼

Hob is not really a nice man at this point in his life. The money is too good to pass up.

Ooo, yes!!! This is great!!

It also made me think of Hob in Edwardian/early 1900s times being the guy who you can hire to pretend that you're committing adultery and get "caught" with, so that you can get a divorce. I can imagine him having a whole package deal where he rents the hotel room for you, organises dinner, even arranges for the witness to walk in on the "adultery".

But back to the modern day. Hob isn't fussy about what his clients want from him. From honey trap situations to acting like a crazy ex in front of the gross blind date you really didn't want to be on, he'll do it all. And surprisingly, he's run into Dream several times now. Apparently Dream has a really bad taste in partners because Hob has been hired by multiple people to sabotage Dream’s relationships. He's starting to feel slightly bad for the guy.

After the latest breakup (Thessaly - she apparently just lost feelings for Dream but couldn't be bothered to break up with him herself, so she hired Hob to literally just do it for her) Dream look so sad, Hob is just like. Fucking hell. I'm taking you for a drink.

And Dream naturally gets completely hammered. When Hob escorts him home and puts him to bed he gets this look in his eyes. Hob’s never seen it before and its enough to make him pause.

"I'm going to date you!" Dream hiccups. "Because you can't hire yourself to break up with me. You'll have to stay."

Drunk logic, sure. Hob assumes that Dream will forget in the morning and they'll (hopefully, for Dream’s sake) never see each other again.

But the next morning, there's an email on his business account. It's Dream, asking for a date. He says he'll even pay Hob for his time. And while Hob doesn't consider himself to be an escort, it's far from the worst thing that he's done. Money is money, right? A few dates, and Dream will probably get tired of the scheme.

...or not.